#anyways um i love making sharp lines and i also love queen

[linterteatime]

Queen you're my queen 💙 please don't quick me out of the mansion oh god-

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

��Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #9: Forget-Me-Not

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: Cannon AU shortly after Frozen II (Anna and Kristoff are just friends :P) Lemon: No CW: None

-o-o-o-o-o-

The soft autumn breeze gently brushed against her skin with the delicacy of the finest silk krones could buy. A sudden shiver from the cool air brought a delightful tingle up Anna’s spine and she found herself tightening her grip against her sister’s hand. 

The recently-named Queen of Arendelle glanced towards her side, captivated at the sight of her older sister’s flowing blonde hair and glittering white dress. The fabric behaved in a manner perfectly fitting for the fifth spirit; flowing through the air as if Elsa truly had no definite form to be categorized by other than her shimmering beauty. 

“Need something?” Anna watched the words slip past her sister’s lip while quirking her eyebrow upwards. 

The blood couldn’t rush faster to Anna’s freckled cheeks. She nearly jumped at being caught admiring the only person within miles of the two. Her light blue eyes darted ahead. 

“J-just wondering if you know where you’re going?” She coughed and tried to recover some of her embarrassment.

The excuse seemed appropriate. It had only been a few weeks since the Enchanted Forest had been revealed to the rest of the world. Even if Elsa had been living with the Northuldra for a period of time, it was still a vast, mysterious new environment. It wasn’t exactly clear if Elsa knew how to give a proper tour of the area.

“Hm, are you worried that I’ll lead us down the wrong path your majesty?” Elsa smirked in jest. 

It was practically involuntary for Anna to respond with rolled eyes. Elsa took to calling her “Majesty” quite quickly it seemed.

“Gale?” Elsa asked aloud. 

In that moment Anna felt a gentle push from behind and a flurry of autumn leaves slipping through her hair as they directed the two women forward. Of course the spirits of these magical woods would come at her sister’s beck and call. The former Queen beside her…being the fifth spirit of this world. The mere idea was still so ethereal. 

“So you don’t know where you’re going. You need Gale to lead the way?” She bit her lip to keep the laughter inside. 

“Oh hush. We’re practically here anyway.” 

True to her words, Anna’s eyes widened as the trees of the forest became more sparse with each step. Streaks of sunlight took advantage of the increasing gaps in the leaves, lighting the dirt path ahead. If Anna squinted her eyes she could barely make out the clearing up ahead. 

Unable to contain the energy building in her legs and chest, Anna let go of Elsa’s hand to rush ahead. Her long, auburn hair bounced behind her as she raced towards their destination. A splattering of bright colors grew more vibrant as she neared the meadow up ahead. As her eyes adjusted to the color, her focus became sharp and defined. 

Sunflowers, chrysanthemums, daisies. Anna counted all the distinct flowers that came into view and found herself in the center of it all. She spun, letting her dress twirl along with the flowers as Gale merrily danced around her. The fragrance of the meadow weaved through the air and melted the stress of their journey from her muscles. 

Anna turned, a brilliant smile on her face as she glanced back towards Elsa. The shadows of the trees slipped away from the blonde as she entered the clearing. 

“Elsa, it’s beautiful!”

A reserved, yet meaningful smile spread across Elsa’s lips, “A worthy spot for the Queen’s retreat?”

“Well, just about anywhere with you is a worthy place to be.” Anna smiled while reaching out with her hands and grasping Elsa’s. “But this place is amazing!” 

Elsa’s pale cheeks suddenly turned bright red and her eyesight drifted downwards. Anna struggled hard to keep her laughter inside at the sight of her flustered companion. However, she was in too high of spirits to attempt to tease. 

With a lethargic sigh, Anna released Elsa from her grip and tilted her heels to send herself backwards onto the soft grass beneath. A short grunt escaped her lips as her back hit the ground but a great sigh of contentment followed as her body sprawled outwards. 

With closed eyes, her thoughts drifted to the blissful feeling of being away from Arendelle. Of course, she loved her homeland with all her heart and even took an oath to protect Arendelle just as the ruler’s before her. Yes, Arendelle was her home, but so was Elsa and those two things weren’t exactly mutually exclusive anymore.

The sound of Elsa crawling beside her form and laying by her side, caused Anna’s eyes to slightly open. Elsa’s elbow supported her chin as she positioned her body sideways. It was nearly impossible for Anna to avoid traveling down her sister’s outline, reveling in the delicate curves of her bosom, waist and hips. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Elsa’s whispered words pleasantly tickled her ears. 

“Mmmm.” Anna hummed in approval. “Are we camping here tonight?” 

Her sister nodded. “I told Honeymarron and Ryder to meet us here with supplies later tonight.”

“Good…That’s good.” Anna mumbled. 

She could feel herself growing increasingly tired with each passing second. But that wouldn’t do. This was her time with Elsa. A luxury that very few had, and something even more precious to her than the entirety of the royal reserves. 

She reached her hand to pluck a little flower within reach. A tiny stem rolled in her fingers and her eyes scanned the light blue petals with a bit of confusion. Her brow twisted as she noted the distinct yellow center. 

“Forget-me-not?” 

“Hm?” Elsa questioned beside her. 

“This is a forget-me-not. They aren’t supposed to be around in late November.” Anna spun the flower within her digits, “I wonder why it’s still here.”

Elsa shrugged beside her, “I wouldn’t know. It is the Enchanted Forest so maybe it can flourish here regardless of the season.” 

“True…” 

Suddenly, a thought sparked through Anna’s head and she twisted her body to face her sister. The space between them shrunk and Anna found her nose mere inches from Elsa’s. The slightest hesitancy flashed through Anna’s mind before disregarding the feeling. They were truly alone in this clearing. 

Blue eyes glanced towards the lips before her, and when she glanced towards Elsa’s deep blue iris’ she could see a similar line of sight reflected. 

“You know, “ Anna started in a whisper while bringing the flower in her hand closer to Elsa. “Forget-me-nots have plenty of meanings. One being a promise to not forget someone.” 

“You don’t say.” Elsa giggled and Anna joined in before slipping the stem through blonde lockes, just above her sister’s ear. The blue petal perfectly matched her eyes.

“But it can also represent a connection that endures all challenges and measure of time.” 

“I like that one.” The words passed through lips in a sound so faint, Anna found herself straining to hear them. 

The air around them shifted. The lively forest surrounding the two women faded into the background and all Anna could feel was the pulse racing through her veins, pushing her towards something beautiful.

“And they represent true and beautiful memories.” 

Anna noticed Elsa give the slightest frown at her words but couldn’t help her eyelids fluttering shut in the moment. She reached out to place her palm along Elsa’s waist. They were alone, Anna reminded herself with her thoughts. They were safe. 

Anna leaned her head towards Elsa, finding their foreheads connecting in a moment of bliss and with the slightest tilt of her chin, Anna seeked out the lips she desperately wanted against her own. 

A jolt from Elsa had the younger sister’s eyes opening abruptly. She watched Elsa roll her body up into a sitting position, her eyes staring forward, but entirely unfocused. Anna mimicked the blonde’s position and sat upright beside her. 

“Is something wrong?” Anna asked hesitantly while watching Elsa pull the flower from her hair and stare at the petals. 

It seemed as if Elsa was in a deep trance, far off in thought. With an outreached arm, she placed her palm on her sister’s far shoulder.

“Elsa?” 

“I-” Her ears perked at the sound her voice was shaking with a peculiar emotion…Not exactly fear, but something similar. Apprehension? 

“Did I do something wrong?” Anna asked carefully. 

They had spent plenty of time together. Plenty of nights together. Not once had she seen Elsa react so…peculiarly. Did her breath stink?

When Elsa’s eyes refocused she turned her head and took a moment to process Anna’s question before leaning into her younger sister. 

“Anna, you could never do anything wrong. Forgive me. I just…I want to- No I need to take you somewhere.I know this is sudden and unplanned but-”

“Where?” 

“It’s um…” Elsa bit her lip before speaking, “…Ahtohallan.” 

Anna’s eyes widened at the name. The mythical location that her sister had crossed a literal sea of danger to find. She wanted to take her there? 

Fear was the first emotion that Anna felt rising in her chest, followed by confusion and hesitancy. This was all so sudden. Their plans were to camp in the enchanted forest for a few days as a much needed retreat not…No. That didn’t matter, Anna decided. She trusted Elsa and if this was something her sister wanted. She would oblige no matter what. 

“Okay.” She nodded. 

“Okay?”

Elsa’s eyes observed her face, scanning for what Anna presumed was objection but she was sure her features had been set in nothing but honest determination and trust. 

A pleasant rest in a vibrant meadow turned into a whirling adventure. She watched in silent fascination as Elsa called Nokk, the water spirit, from a nearby pond and with a touch of her magic, the horse became shrouded in a gem-like exterior of ice. 

While her sister didn’t seem as concerned as she had before, there was an unmistakable tightness that Anna could spot in her stance and poise. When Elsa mounted the spirit she reached her arm outwards towards her younger sister. Anna took the hand confidently and the two were suddenly racing towards what Anna could only presume as the shore. 

The rush of wind through her hair would have been a wonderful sensation if not for the strange circumstance of the quest. What had gotten into her sister? Elsa certainly wasn’t the spontaneous type, especially not like herself, and yet it seemed that this journey called to her in a way that was unavoidable. 

Anna wrapped her arms under her sister’s arms and took hold around her slender waist. With a tightened embrace, she hoped to ease some of Elsa’s worry that seemed to ooze off her form like a faint fog. Feeling the coolness of the fifth spirit’s garb was soothing in it’s own right as well. 

The sun was starting to lower along the horizon and Anna peeked from behind Elsa to see the dazzling sea they were racing towards. The Nokk galloped, unfaltering when the transition from land to ocean began. Anna fixed her eyes below, watching and hearing the hooves of the spirit slam into the surface of the water below, only to turn the shifting liquid into ice on impact. 

“Is Attohallen far?” She shouted over the sound of rushing wind. The dimming sunlight was only a slight concern in her mind. 

“Not as far as you’d think.” Elsa spoke in a manner akin to light hearted laughter. 

Anna smiled, knowing that the feeling of riding the Nokk was the freeing sensation that Elsa craved. It was unmistakable to think her sister wasn’t enjoying journey towards this magical glacier she had only been told about while Elsa had recounted her own perilous adventure a few weeks ago. It made her happy that her sister’s previous concern and anxiety was losing its hold on the woman once more.

Anna closed her eyes and tightened her hold. She cherished the feeling of Elsa in her arms, leaping forth into an unknown adventure. It reminded her of the earlier days in their childhood, when Elsa was far more mischievous, and far less reserved. 

Time passed, how quickly, Anna could not say. She merely focused on the clattering sound of Nokk’s steps against the ice below. The next time Anna opened her cerulean eyes, she could see the golden hue of the sunset lowering behind an icy mountain ahead. The sea around the two women was completely covered in pure ice. 

“Ahtohallan.” Anna whispered as she guessed their destination was ahead. She leaned to the side to catch the determined look of her sister staring straight ahead.

Shortly after noticing the glacier, Anna realized they were much closer than she thought. Solid ice became packed, dense snow and the Nokk’s movement slowed to a trot. 

“Not much further.” Elsa assured and Anna nodded against her back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you out here all of a sudden.” 

“What’s so important here?”

Elsa turned to look her in the eyes, the confident smirk on her pale visage did plenty to ease Anna’s hidden concern. 

“It’s something you have to see for yourself.” 

“That something doesn’t…bite….right?”

The beautiful chime of Elsa’s laughter sent a giddy pressure into Anna’s chest. 

“No, you’ll be safe. I promise.” 

The rush of emotions that rose within herself had Anna blushing profusely. The confidence and grace that her sister spoke those words with were almost too much to handle. She definitely liked this side of Elsa. 

Soon, Nokk arrived at a triangular entrance of crystal clear sculpted ice and Anna slid off the spirit and watched it return to the sea after bowing to the women. 

“Okay.” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “What do you want to show me?” 

Elsa smirked before grasping one of her hands and leading her into the cavern. It was dark, surprisingly so. Anna squinted in an attempt to see anything in front of herself but found it incredibly frustrating. That is, until she could barely make out Elsa placing her palm against the icy wall. 

Lights nearly blinded Anna as the cavern lit up in a glittering beauty that resembled the stars. Anna could feel her jaw go slack, watching all the pretty lights dazzle around her. 

“C’mon.” Elsa tugged forward and Anna found herself following down a tighter section of the cavern. 

The entirety of the cavern felt like a maze, paths splintering off in nearly every direction and yet Elsa stayed true in her steps. The lively lights embedded in the walls rushed ahead, and lit the path, as if they were guiding them to where they wanted to be. 

“W-Woah hang on a second-.” Anna exclaimed as the floor beneath her boots gradually became stepper and stepper. The frictionless ice sliding her into an uncontrollable momentum. 

Her eyes focused on Elsa, watching her knees bend and lean into the slope and Anna shakily copied the movements. The speed of their descent into the unknown cavern had her stomach dropping and a wild energy pulsing through her. 

The smile that spread across freckled cheeks was involuntary. 

When they neared a ramp that would surely send them flying into the depths of a larger space ahead, Anna didn’t close her eyes or scream in fear. No. Her hand tightened within Elsa’s grip and they flew into the air together, laughing as if it were a wonderful memory from their childhood. 

The slightest flick of Elsa’s unoccupied wrist had beams of ice rising from the dark depths below to give them footing. Watching her sister’s magic come so naturally, so gracefully, had Anna feeling just how proud she was to be with Elsa. How far had they both come?

The transition from the air back towards the cool, slippery surface was met with little resistance and eventually the slope they traversed leveled out and their speed eased until they were no longer bound by the steepness of the ice. Watching ahead, Anna followed her sister into the next room. 

Blue eyes widened at the sight of crystal clear pillars in the room. It was almost as if the very structure of this place was a throne room, brilliant and beautiful in every sense. 

“We’re here.” Elsa spoke, her words echoing through the hall. 

At the sound of her sister’s voice, the lights that followed them here split into individual colors. The colors swam through the ice below, passing under her feet and towards a darkened room ahead. 

“Are those…?” Anna asked, unable to voice her full thoughts as she was mesmerized by the lights.

“The other spirits.” Elsa confirmed while nodding her head, “Yes.”

“Amazing.” She breathed. 

It took a few steps before Anna found herself side by side with Elsa, facing a room that seemed to contain the deepest, unknown black she’d ever seen. A magical presence seemed to waft through the air, leaking from the space before her. This place was special, she could feel it in her bones. 

“Anna.” Her head turned towards the voice of her sister, “I…”

She watched Elsa’s lips open and shut, her brow wrinkled in all the ways that would indicate frustration. She could tell the blonde was trying to think of the words she could use to explain what lies ahead, although Anna was already sure it was the type of mythical magic that was near impossible to truly explain through mere words. 

“It’s okay Elsa,” Anna spoke while reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder, “Show me.” 

An affirmative nod followed by interweaved hands had the two sisters stepping into the darkness. At first, Anna relied on Elsa and her senses to lead the way, but everything changed once she saw the spirits. 

Crystals of colored light, last seen in Arendelle’s darkest moments, were free and floating in this�� vast space. She watched in fascination as the colors swirled through the air, a flurry of blue’s formed a single autumn leaf and Anna then realized what she was witnessing. 

“Hi Gale.” She giggled, still enthralled by the sight of the spirit which had no form. 

A swirl of pink crystals came rushing towards them, whirling around Elsa in the shape of the fire-breathing salamander that Anna had come to adore. The flashes of varying brightness had perfectly reminded Anna of the fiery spirit they met on their travels. On her left, with the beauty and grace she had always felt from the creature, Nokk was trotting alongside them. Lastly, On Elsa’s side, Anna watched as the crystals formed the gigantic outline of the giants she’d nearly been crushed by. A hesitant wave of her hand was all she knew how to give, but the frim nod from the giant filled Anna’s chest with comfort. 

These were not the rage-filled, uncontrollable spirits they’d initially found in their journey into the Enchanted Forest. No, they were legendary creatures of myths but capable of emotions similar to her own kind. Blue eyes trailed to her sister, enjoying the way the gems of her dress glowed in the presence of the spirits. She truly was the fifth spirit.

They stopped in the center of the room. The four spirits delving below to shape large, magnificent crystals that Elsa could control. Pale arms lifted upwards. Anna’s jaw was surely hanging as she watched, yet Elsa took one last glance towards her. 

“In that meadow, you said forget-me-nots resembled true and beautiful memories.” Anna found herself merely nodding, unsure of what Elsa was planning, “I want to show you everything Anna.”

“What do you m-” Anna started only to watch Elsa thrust the crystals towards the ceiling in blinding light. 

The crystals collided overhead and the dark room that surrounded them was transformed into a dome of ice. In that moment, as the world around her brightened with what seemed to be fractured mirrors, Anna’s eyes grew large and her lips parted. 

Taste, touch, sound, smells, even her sight seemed inadequate to truly describe the feeling within herself. Memories. She realized with astonishment. Her memories flooded the walls, playing as if she was watching them within her mind, yet the clarity was unfathomably real. 

“Elsa…” Anna breathed, unable to form words. 

“Do you want to build a snowman?” 

Wide blue eyes flashed towards the sound of her own voice, watching a memory of their childhood. What was once a memory of a traditional Arendelle winter shifted across the ice to reveal a younger version of Elsa swirling her magical power into what appeared to be an earlier version of Olaf. 

“Weeeeeee!” 

Anna turned once more to see her younger self squealing as rode a sled through the thick of the Arendelle woods. Elsa, pushing her from behind. The image faded and revealed something similar, only the trees in the background morphed into the walls of the castle and the sled was nowhere to be found. 

“My memories…” Anna choked, feeling a sudden ache catch in her throat. 

All around her, this magical place revealed the memories of her childhood that had been altered. Ice skating in a pond turned into skating within the castle walls. Snowball fights in the summer garden. Everything was revealing itself to her.

The sting of tears pricked at the corner of her eyes yet she knew them to be tears of happiness. With each streak that slid down her cheeks, a piece of herself had been returned. These were more than simple memories being displayed before her, she could feel them unlocking themselves within. 

“Catch me! Catch me!” 

Anna turned once more towards the sound of her younger voice. She saw her younger self leaping from snowy hilltop to snowy hilltop, all being formed mere moments before she leapt. Elsa’s hand tightened around her own and she glanced towards her sister. 

The tears that glittered on pale cheeks had Anna squeezing back with the deepest amount of unconditional love she could offer. Her eyes returned to the memory above. 

“Wait Anna. Slow down!” 

“Woohoo!” 

She could see the younger version of Elsa struggling to keep up with her speed. The distance between each leap was getting farther and the structures her sister created were larger. A momentary slip of balance sent Elsa backwards and Anna watched herself leap into the air without a cushion below. 

A single blast of magic to her head was all it took to send the young girl into the snowy bank below. 

“A-anna!….Mama! Papa!” 

The Queen of Arendelle watched as the young Elsa struggled to hold her unresponsive self in her arms, curling around her as the magical ice began to splinter and spread into something much more coarse. 

“Elsa what have you done?”

“She’s ice cold…” 

“I recommend we remove all magic. Even memories of magic…to be safe.” 

Anna watched as the true events of the past became clear. The ache of confusion and the unknown that had always remained in her heart suddenly faded. Everything was clear now. 

“Elsa-” Anna turned, expecting to comfort her older sister, however she found something entirely different. 

Elsa was smiling and the tears and sadness Anna thought she understood was replaced by relief. Elsa reached out to take her arms in her hands and their foreheads connected in a loving touch. 

“You don’t have to worry Anna. I don’t blame myself anymore. I just wanted you to know everything.” 

“Elsa…” Anna pulled her sister closer, so that nearly every inch of their bodies were pressed together. “Thank you.” 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips into Elsa’s. The gentle connection was met with the brilliant lights of the spirits surrounding them. Anna peeked a single eye open to watch as the fractured memories of Ahtohallan spun into a single memory of their kiss. 

When the two women parted they watched as the events they’d experienced were now being played above. 

“Now we’re caught up.” Anna giggled. 

“There’s one last thing I wanted to show you.” 

"Hm?” Anna lifted her brow while Elsa took a step back. 

“When we were younger. My magic wasn’t like it is now.” Elsa frowned as she recounted the memories of her own struggles to tame the energy inside herself, “I could make ice and snow…but there was no true beauty in it. Just clumps of magical power and being afraid of that power only made it worse.” 

Anna watched as Elsa placed her palm out. Particles of light began forming within her hand and watched as a single flower, small but intricate in all the ways that would define a master artisan. 

“But it’s thanks to you that I’m able to practice my magic once again without fear.”

Anna nodded her head in reply, knowing that their love had truly unchained them both from the shackles they carried in the past. 

“So…” Elsa smiled while outstretching the flower in her fingers.

“Forget-me-not?”

-o-o-o-o-o-

[sweetness47]

The Sleeping Beauty

Pairing Sam x Reader

@spnfluffbingo square filled: fairy tale AU

Warnings: nothing really, I don’t think anyways. Implied smut at the end? Mild violent scenes. Nothing too descriptive anywhere.

Final word count: 1924

Sam brought his arm around YN, smiling as she settled into his warm embrace. They were just hanging around, channel flipping, enjoying the quiet evening. Dean was at the bar, and Cas had gone with him, it was almost like a date, but neither would admit such a thing.

YN shivered as Sam traced along her arm, the touch so feathery soft, yet spoke volumes to the thoughts going through his mind. One of the things she liked about Sam was his quiet demeanor, the way   caressed her with a mere look, undressed her with his eyes. The thoughts that danced across his beautiful hazel orbs every time he looked at her, like she was a goddess, and he worshipped the ground she walked on, they made her feel like she could do anything as long as she had him.

They gazed at each other, lost in their silent caresses, too entranced to notice the lights flicker. There was a storm outside, so it would have been shrugged off as coincidence, until the TV went wonky, the picture flitting off and on, landing briefly on the screen of death, then landing on a movie.

“Sam, weren’t we watching Food network? How did we end up on Disney?”

Sam glanced at YN, then at the tv. Frowning, he looked back at his love. “No idea, must be some weird effect from the storm. Anyways, its one of your favorites. We can watch it if you want.”

He knew her well. Sleeping Beauty was indeed one of her all time favorite Disney classics. She was a sucker for romance and brave heroes.

YN snuggled closer to Sam. “Ok. Can you turn it up a bit though? It’s really quiet.”

No sooner did Sam touch the remote, a brilliant white light lit the entire room, and when it had subsided, Sam and YN were no longer there.

**

YN woke feeling strange, but she couldn’t figure out why. She also had no clue as to why she could hear birds chirping and smell fresh forest air. It was that moment her eyes flew open, noting she wasn’t in her bed, neither was she in her house.

In fact, she was most definitely not in her realm.

She was a cartoon, and not just any cartoon, but she was in fact, Princess Aurora.

But where was Sam? How did they get there? And how on Earth were they ever going to get home?

**

Sam woke standing in a stable, beside a horse. A cartoon horse. Running over to the fresh bucket of water, he glanced at his reflection and was shocked to see he was a cartoon. He was in Sleeping Beauty. He was Prince Philip, actually.

Maybe, YN was Aurora.

But how did this happen? He remembered when he had been transported with Dean and Cas into Scooby Doo, so maybe this was the same kind of deal. As long as they played out the story, they should be returned to their world at the end.

He just had to make sure he didn’t die, and that YN was unharmed as well. He’d only seen this particular movie a couple of times, but he knew the basics. It looked like they had come into the movie about midway, where Phillip is getting ready to go riding in the forest, and meets Aurora for the first time.

He saddled Samson and easily swung up onto the horse. He paced his ride to a slow trot, enjoying the natural sounds of the forest, but also listening for the musical voice that would lead him to YN/Aurora. He had heard her sing to many of the Disney films they’d watched over the years, and knew she could carry a tune fairly well. His opinion might be somewhat bias but in his heart he knew she was more than capable of playing this role.

**

YN, having seen this movie many times, played the role of Briar Rose perfectly. She was sent by the fairies to pick berries in the woods. She strolled along the paths, feeling the grass tickle her feet as she walked. For fun, she decided to see if she could really sing like the princess in the film, so she began humming, then quietly singing lines about animals having someone to love, yet she remained single. Her heart hoped the Prince was Sam, because he was who she desired the most.

As expected, the lovebirds finally find each other. Sam practically leaps off the horse and catches YN in his arms as she meets him halfway. They dance along the grassy meadow and sing together, gazing into each other’s eyes lovingly.

They know they can’t stay there, or run away together, if they want to go back to their own world, so Sam and YN reluctantly part ways, promising to finish the story so they can live happily ever after. Together in each other’s arms, forever.

YN returns to the cottage in the glen and finds the surprise dress and birthday cake her guardians have made. They then tell her the truth of her identity, and YN feels her heart break as she pretends to be distraught over the thought of never seeing the young man she met in the forest. Dressed in the beautiful blue gown, and covered in a blue cloak, the three fairies carefully lead the princess to her home and to her parents.

Once there, they lead her to a secluded room so they can keep her safe till the sun has set, thereby foiling the prophecy Maleficent had bestowed upon Aurora when she was a baby. The three of them combined their magic to create a beautiful crown to place upon YN’s head. She looked at the golden tiara and broke down into sobs, her head resting upon her arm on her dresser as she shed tears for her beloved.

When the fairies left her alone for a few minutes, YN knew what would come next, but the trance caused by the green orb took away all her sorrows, but also took away her free will. It was like watching from outside her body. Her mind was being controlled, but she still had her own consciousness. Ever so slowly, she climbed the steps to the top tower, where her fate awaited.

The princess entered the room the orb had coaxed her to, and walked toward the spinning wheel that stood in the middle of the floor. She could hear a menacing voice telling her to touch the spindle of the spinning wheel, but she hesitated briefly, then as the voice in her head grew more demanding, she could no longer resist.

The last thing she remembered was pricking her finger on the sharp point, her body crumpling to the ground as a deep slumber overtook her.

**

Sam made his way to the cottage he’d been ‘invited to’ by YN, but he couldn’t exactly remember what would happen next. He knew Phillip would get captured by Maleficent, and that it would be soon, but when he knocked on the cottage and stepped in, he wasn’t prepared to be overcome so quickly. The evil hordes quickly tied him up and took him away, his anger rising as the evil witch laughed at him.

Chained to the dungeon wall in Maleficent’s home, he listened to her goad him, telling him she would release him in 100 years to rescue his love, then laughing at him as he struggled to break free and kill her.

Once she left him, the three fairies, who had found Aurora lying on the ground in the tower, snuck inside the forbidden mountain where the evil witch resided, and freed Phillip from the chains. Bestowing upon him the Shield of Faith and the Mighty Sword of Truth, they led him to freedom and, after freeing Samson, they helped him escape.

Maleficent heard the commotion and was beyond angry at the incompetence of her minions. She sent a cursed wall of thorns to stop Sam from getting to the castle, but the sword he’d been gifted with cut the magical weeds with ease. He would take on the world if it meant rescuing his beloved YN.

When the thorns failed to stop him, Maleficent appeared before Phillip and spoke these words, “Now shall you deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of hell!”

With a maniacal laugh, the witch changed, grew, and there before Sam stood a large black dragon. Sam charged at the dragon, and was met with a fiery blast. The shield easily protected him, and Phillip jumped off his horse to fight the great beast. Maleficent snapped her jaws at him, breathed fire at him, but the prince remained strong and vigilant.

When a rather powerful blast knocked Phillip’s shield away, Maleficent laughed and reveled in her almost victory. He wouldn’t survive now that he had no shield. But while she laughed, the three good fairies enchanted the Sword of truth:

O Sword of Truth, fly swift and sure,

That evil die and good endure!

When they finished the spell, Sam threw the sword at the large dragon, piercing her heart. With a great cry, the evil Maleficent fell to her death, never to darken the kingdom again.

With her death, the thorns and fire disappeared, allowing Sam to enter the castle and seek out YN. He reached the room where the fairies had laid her down on a soft bed, and bent down to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. YN woke, smiling as she gazed into her lover’s eyes.

They made their way to the grand ball room and paid respect to the king and queen, YN rushing to embrace her ‘parents’. Then the prince and princess danced and shared a kiss, and lived happily ever after.

As they kissed, lights flashed, blinding them, and they held on to each other, hoping they were going back home.

**

Sam and YN opened their eyes and found themselves back in the living room, the tv back on the Food channel and everything back to normal. They remembered everything though. Sam cleared his throat, and looked at YN.

“That was interesting.” He commented.

“It was, definitely, and kinda fun.” She replied.

“It got me thinking YN. I don’t want to waste any more time just dating you. I love you. I want to marry you, have children with you, grow old with you. Say you’ll be mine.”

YN felt her eyes sting with happy tears. “Sam, I can’t imagine any part of my future where you are not in it. You complete me, and you’ve made me the happiest woman in the world. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to marry you, grow old with you, and have children with you.” She giggled as she said the last part. “Speaking of…I was going to tell you tonight anyways, but, um, we’ve already started the having children part.”

Sam’s eyes widened as her words caught up with him. “Really?”

The biggest grin she’d ever seen adorned his face as he joyously swung her around, planting kisses all over her face and neck. Picking her up bridal style, he took her to their room where he spent most of the night showing her how much he loved her.

@legion1993 @drkcnry67 @lyarr24 @idreamofplaid​

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

meat!

well that seems like a fairly conclusive response (only one person voted for just candy). you did this to yourselves

Title: soma

Summary: What’s that thing people say about ignorance?

Notes:

This takes into account and is somewhat of a followon to the stuff established in these three remixes of melliferous, so if you’re confused, i am SO sorry. it’s not that much better from this end of things, trust me.

less of an epilogue, more of an addition or maybe a series of vignettes in the melliferous multiverse. because apparently that’s a thing now. this is dubiously canon. take it as you will.

Warnings: for the usual melliferous content – bugs and drugs, death, unreality, body horror, cannibalism. And also corpse desecration, and dismemberment! If any of these even vaguely seem like they might upset you, please turn back now.

For I was hungry, and I ate you. I was thirsty, and I drank you. [sic] – Matthew 25:35

*

i.

“You know what’s bugging me?” Thomas says, millions of cycles into all of this, and two swiftly-downed shot glasses into the last of Lady Seph’s newest round of stock.

“Haha, bugs.” Patton lowers his glass of starfire briefly to give a weak fingergun in Thomas’s direction. “Because – you know, everything’s bugs down here for some reason?”

Logan is halfway to drunk and halfway to dead already. It’s just one of those lifetimes. The fact that’s he’s mostly dust and barely able to hold up his glass does not, however, stop him from theorizing, “You know, it really is entirely possible that they aren’t actually insects, and their carapacian forms are a result of some form of convergent evolution.”

“Stop trying to apply logic to them,” Roman moans. He makes a face and raises a sleeve to his mouth to try to scrub the taste of honey off of his tongue. It lingers strangely, sweetly. “Haven’t you ever heard of willing suspension of disbelief? We’re not meant to understand this.”

Remus is dissolving. But cheerfully. “Yeah, it’s more fun this way!”

“For a certain definition of fun, sure,” is Virgil’s muttered take.

“Or maybe the evolution path was divergent in form. A potential split somewhere along the line, dividing from beings of a celestial persuasion into what we find ourselves as today into insectoid and humanoid, both created in their image...”

“It does appear that God has an inordinate fondness for beetles,” says Janus. “Holistically, that is.”

Thomas frowns. “...Guys, are we having oblique yet resonant Socratic dialogue again?”

“When are we not? Someone check for cameras, I’d hate for this one to go up online, unedited,” Janus replies, somewhat sardonically, and raises his own glass. “Refill, if you would.”

A flurry of flowers, a fluttering of wings, and good old Auntie Seph is back again with another bottle of gods-knows-what. “Y’all ain’t sticking around for long this time, huh?”

“A few more minutes, maybe,” Virgil confirms as she passes by and swishes back into the darkness of the bar to continue her evening rounds. “I think I’m really going off steak at this point, honestly.”

“What were you saying, Thomas?” Roman asks, trying to sit up straighter. “Something bugging you? Something you can’t quite, um – ”

“Bee-lieve?” Patton supplies.

“Sure. Uh. The steak,” Thomas says. “I had some this time, you know? It was...” He struggles for words.

“Delicious,” Virgil says with a grimace.

“Remarkably well-seasoned for something drenched in honey and not much else,” Roman comments, who had also partaken in the steak this time around for some unknown, unknowable reason.

“Human!” Remus crows, teeth flashing white in the dimness of the lowly-lit bar. “Soylent Green is people! Or did I make that joke already...?”

“We all knew it was human flesh, Remus,” Logan sighs, listing even further sideways. “It’s not as if there are any cows down here to harvest the steak from, let alone any other animals. And if you examine the entomology and feeding habits of the American vulture bee – ”

“The humans around here don’t look very, um. Meaty,” Thomas says. “Just saying. It’s – they’re – ”

“Hollow? They would be,” Janus points out. “In case you haven’t noticed, the bees are sucking them dry. They’re all essentially husks.”

“So where does she get the steak from?” Thomas asks again, and nobody has an answer for them, most likely because they’re all far too busy shrivelling away into the darkness.

“Oh, never mind,” Patton yawns. “We’re dead anyway. What does it matter?”

“...Good point. I’ll work it out next time.” Thomas studies the bar with bleary eyes. The faded photographs and portraits on the walls, the legions of shades drinking in their usual solemn silence. “So where do you go when you die if you’re already in hell?”

“Hell 2,” Remus suggests, slumping against the bar, “This Time With More Capitalism.”

“Not too loud, you’ll give my wife ideas,” Seph tells them from across the bar, and raises her glass to them. A farewell toast. “And don’t you think too hard about the steak thing. You’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

And then it’s dust to dust, and the wheel begins to turn again.  

*

ii.

The party’s in full swing when Virgil says to Thomas, quite frankly, “I hate parties.”

The lights are bright above them. The air is fresh with the birth of spring, and the music is loud and ringing through the air like a hailing chorus fit for the arrival of a queen.

Thomas clears his throat after a moment. “Okay, not that I don’t appreciate the commentary... but, uh, Virge-?”

“I’m here because you’re anxious,” Virgil supplies, folding his arms and resting his head on top of them. “Parties, man. Just stay home and browse Netflix for the millionth time, why don’t you?”

“It’s good for me to get out, and also, I’m pretty sure you don’t need to be here for me to be anxious. It happens anyway. That wasn’t what I was going to ask.” He rests his hand on a nearby tree and watches Logan and Patton attempting to reconcile their two extremely different ideas of ‘dancing’, on the fly, on the dance floor. “...Why are you sitting on my shoulders?”

“I like being tall,” replies Virgil.

“Hm,” says Thomas. “Okay, fair enough.”

Janus is over in the far corner chatting with the grinning man; the one with the hat and the constantly-in-motion wings and the laugh like the rattling of a lock clicking open. They’re talking about car chases and unlikely escapes and flights into the night, they’re comparing false identities and secrets they’ve never told anyone else; they’re lying wildly to each other.

On top of a table of cakes and sweetmeats piled high to the heavens, Remus perches and engages in deep, fascinated conversation with a lady whose crystal-cut eyes shine in the bright sunlight. They speak of rot, of rebirth, of blazing heat and screaming cold.  Her wings are familiar. Nothing else about her is. That’s another story, though, one to be told later.

“Well, this is new,” says Seph, sauntering over. A crooked flower crown rests in her hair with all the colors of spring, and the wine glass her long spindly fingers are curled securely around seems to be filled with actual proper honest-to-god wine. Her eyes are bright, her coat is long, her wings are radiant. “Now, what brings a scattered disaster of a man like you to a party like this?”

Thomas blinks. Virgil’s arms, looped loosely around the top of his head, tighten. “I’m... sorry, do I know you?”

“In a roundabout sort of way, maybe,” she replies, and swirls the wine before slurping it up with that long, long tongue of hers. “Lady of the spring, at your service. You here by invite, or-?”

“Hey, I can’t actually remember how we got here,” Virgil mutters into Thomas’s hair.

Thomas hovers, suddenly extremely worried. “Should I. Like. Leave?”

“Not a worry. The blooming of spring is a party for everyone,” she says wisely, and then grins wide and sharp and tosses her empty glass to one side, where it shatters into crystal shards and light. “‘Specially me. Even if I’m late. ‘Specially if I’m late. Have you tried the food? It’s to die for, and for once ya don’t even have to die to eat it!”

“...Is this a fairy ring?” Virgil says suspiciously, peering down at her from his perch on Thomas’shoulders. “You legally have to tell us if it’s a fairy ring, otherwise it’s entrapment.”

Seph laughs. “Naw. Different story, that. Don’t worry too much about the details, just have fun – it ain’t gonna last for very long.” She adjusts the flowers adorning her head, tucking chrysanthemum blooms back to stop them falling over her eyes, and extends a hand in Thomas’s direction. Her long fingers wiggle; an invitation. “Here, come on and dance, kiddo, while we’ve still got the time.”

Virgil sighs and complains but gets down from Thomas’s shoulders with a catlike tumble that leaves him crouched on the ground, and he claps Thomas on the shoulder before going to join Remus.

Seph isn’t any threat. Not here, not to them. She’s a friend, in a roundabout sort of way.

“All right,” says Thomas. “So, let’s dance.”

The music blares, rising with brass and percussion and strings struck with purpose and energy both. Out onto the dance floor with them, and into the fray. Seph dances like she drinks – careless and wild; sloppy but purposeful. She whirls them around, cackling in time with the music-from-nowhere, kicking up her heels in the dirt. She’s a different person entirely, up here, full of light and laughter and a kind of rusted-and-rough love for everything around her.

Thomas lets her lead and lets her swing and swirl him around in mad spirals, wild and free as a honeybee in a summertime frame of mind. They laugh and yell and stomp and he thinks he might have started to sing along at some point, although there’s no earthly way he should know the words.

“But what about the steak?” Thomas asks as she pulls away and he stumbles back, dizzy and high on the thrill of life.

“What about the steak?” she replies, and there’s another glass of wine in her hand already. “Don’t you know what they say about ignorance? See you when winter comes around, sugar. Let’s hope we get it right this time, hey?”

*

iii.

Virgil sits and goes at it with a fork-and-knife, breaking the steak up into bite-sized chunks. It’s tough and he has to saw a bit to cut through. Juices bubble and spill across his plate, honey pooling in concentric little patterns. The centre of it is red-rare; just like he likes. He spears a chunk with his fork, and holds it to his lips.

He doesn’t take a bite.

He says, “I don’t get why we have to do this.”

Remus says, “Sure you do, it’s what we do every time. I say ‘funny how it doesn’t feel like much of a choice at all’, and you say – ”

“This is some sort of cycle, isn’t it? Some kind of loop.”

“Uh, no?” Remus puts down his steak. (He doesn’t bother using the knife. His hands are sticky with honey and meat-juice. Although the honey is a kind of meat-juice too, if you think about it.) “You’ve never said that before. Usually it’s something sardonic to hide the fact that’s you’re extremely freaked out.”

“Remus,” says Virgil thoughtfully, still staring at his fork.

“Mm?”

“How often are you aware of the fact that we’re stuck in some kind of horrible time loop cycle?”

“Oh, only when it’s funny,” says Remus, and tears off a long, thick strip of meat from his meal with his back teeth.

“Right,” says Virgil. “Right, okay.” He pauses. “So, have we figured out where the steak comes from yet, or..?”

“Shh,” says Remus, sloppily raising a filthy-sweet finger to Virgil’s lips. “Don’t spoil the moment, Great Skittish Bake-Off. I never get invited over for family dinner, this is a novelty.”

“Gosh, I wonder why,” Virgil mutters, but shuts up and eats his damned steak like a good little cog in the machine.

*

iv.

“Okay, here’s another question,” Thomas says, tossing a stone into the Styx. It doesn’t make a sound, mainly because an infinite number maggots don’t tend to have much surface tension to break. “When you all went and decided ‘right, time to go get Thomas back from being extremely dead’...”

“Mm?” says Janus, sorting through their makeshift tacklebox with an absent look on his face.

“...Do you want to explain why your first thought was let's go to hell?”

Patton acquires an extremely shifty look on his face, and doesn’t reply. Instead, he casts his fishing line high and wide, and nods approvingly as the hook and lure and end of the line disappear into the seething mass of maggots.

“What are you even fishing for,” Virgil complains, trying to smudge excess honey off his clothes. “More maggots? It’s not like there’s any fish in that whole mess.”

“You don’t know that,” insists Patton, stubbornly optimistic. “There might be fish.”

“Dead fish, maybe,” Logan says dryly.

“Guys, no, seriously. What specifically did I do to make you think I was in hell. I mean, you weren’t wrong, but I – I really desperately need to know your reasoning, come on, don’t just – ”

Remus lies on his stomach several distance away. He’s also fishing, but he’s doing it with his bare hands. Which doesn’t seem very safe or sanitary, but stopping him would probably be more trouble than it’s worth. “Maybe he’s fishing for the steak,” he suggests.

“That’s even more unlikely than the fish,” Roman replies, snorting.

“Eh. ‘Bout as likely as anything that goes on down here.” Remus makes a wild swipe into the river and comes up with a bloody fistful of maggots. “Just saying. Maybe that’s how she gets her hands on the meat. She dredges through the river and pulls out the people that fell in and fries them all up for dinner, sweet and hot.”

“If the maggots don’t get to them first,” Virgil points out.

Remus holds up his hand obligingly, letting everyone see that his fistful of maggots are currently going absolutely to town on the meat of his hand. Bone is gleaming through the raw-hamburger mess of red and more red.

“I thought maggots only went for dead flesh,” Patton hums, and jolts as his fishing rod jerks and bends, straining against some pressure on the other end of the rod.

“Patton,” says Thomas glumly, having resigned himself to the fact that nobody at all is planning to answer his extremely pertinent and important question, “I have to break this to you, I really do, but we are all extremely dead.”

“Oh, yeah,” Patton says, reeling in his catch. “Ha! I keep forgetting about that, would you believe it? Now, I wonder what I caught...”

The catch is maggots. It’s all maggots, down there. Some are much livelier than others, but still maggots. Not that any of that’s going to stop Patton, though. What’s that thing people tend to say about hope?

*

v.

Back straight, hands clasped, chair pulled up tight as it can go to the lip of the kitchen table. His leg jitters on the underside of the table, his nervousness invisible in the darkness.

“I just want to see,” Thomas says.

Missus Hades hums lowly to herself, before raising her cigarette up and away, letting the smoke peel off towards the dark ceiling tiles. The lights buzz, or maybe that’s the bees. “You really won’t like what you find, you know.”

“Let me guess,” says Virgil, pressed up tight in the corner like he’s trying to melt into Thomas’s side. “We never do.”

“Don’t know about that,” she says. “Far as I’m aware, you’ve never asked. I just know you’re really not going to like it.”

The smoke doesn’t smell scratchy and musty in the way that Thomas expects cigarette-smoke to smell. It’s like a bonfire. Maybe a bit floral. A hint of nostalgia to it.

“We’ve been doing this for so long,” Logan says. The lighting in here does weird things to his glasses, makes them all honey-red-shiny and alien. He doesn’t come in here often, never has. “If it doesn’t impact us, surely there’s no harm in telling us. And if it does, we really would like to know.”

Missus Hades leans sideways, bends down to skritch-scratch one of her larger-than-average pets behind its ears, or where its ears would be. They seem to enjoy it, at the very least. Her smile is sideways and strange and barely genuine. “Now what’s that they say about curiosity, again?”

“There’s no cats down here,” Roman points out. “Just bees.”

“An unholy amount of bees,” Janus mutters, shifting back into the shadows. He never seems to like Hades’s house. Not that any of them do, but – well.

“Fine,” says Hades, and stubs out her cigarette, crushing it under the heel of one shining chitinous hand. “Now, follow me, and don’t you go and say I didn’t warn you.”

You’d think that the layout of Missus Hades’s house would be simple, looking at it from the outside. But two hallways down and two stairways up and three right turns (and not necessarily in that order, either) and none of them could even begin to recall how to get to where they’re going.

It’s in the middle of a hallway like any other, in fact. Just another room in a house far too vast for one person to live in alone. Looks like she and her wife haven’t quite fixed things up properly, not this time around, but oh well. There’s always time and there’s always next time.

The door is locked and the door is solid metal. Not a lot of metal down here, come to think of it, not in the buildings. It’s just for the garden gates and the deadbolts, and anything made to keep people out.

Hades fishes for keys in the deep thick pockets of her long skirts. Thomas watches, and so do everyone else. They’re all here, which is nice – it doesn’t happen all the time, but it’s better when they’re all together.

“All right,” says Hades, and the door unlocks with a click. She pushes it open, flicks on the lights, and steps back.

It’s clean; almost obsessively tidy. The knives are sharp and shiny, the equipment not new but definitely well-maintained. The butcher knows what she’s doing. It would almost be pristine if it weren’t for the bloodied countertop and the source of the meat, which is –

Thomas takes an instinctive step back.

There is a pile of him on the ground, in various states of decay and dismemberment.

He recognizes the shirts, even. Lots of flowers. He’s always liked the flower shirts. His gaze travels sideways, to the countertop where a new steak is being prepared.

Oh. All right.

Okay.

“I really don’t know what I expected,” Thomas says.

Hades shrugs; the shifting of a mountain. Her face is impassive, although she seems to be watching him closely. “Neither do I, if I’m completely honest.”

Virgil says, “I’m going to go throw up now,” and does. He at least goes to do it outside, which is kind of him. The smells’ awful enough in here as it is.  

“I’ve heard of eating your heart out, but...” Patton trails off, and winces, going pale. “...Nevermind. I’m going to go join Virgil.”

“Well, hey,” says Remus. “It kind of makes sense. You are what you eat, you know?”

“Remus,” says Logan flatly. “Please shut up.”

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Thomas asks.

Hades tilts her head; her version of a startled blink. She sounds genuinely confused when she asks, “What makes you say that?”

“You are repeatedly carving up Thomas’s lifeless remains to serve to variations on his personality as a last meal,” Logan summarizes, rather succinctly – his steady voice a neat counterpoint to the whiteness of his knuckles and the faint trembling of his lips. “Are you telling me that is how you treat people you hold any sort of affection for?”

“You were hungry,” comes the reply. “I never forced you to eat, only served you the meal. Why for the love of all things above and below would that mean I hold any sort of animosity towards you? I don’t not like you, Thomas Sanders. And trust me, if I disliked you, you’d know about it.”

Logan stares at her for a long, long moment, and then turns on his heel and walks out of the room as fast as he can.

After a moment, Roman follows, not even saying a word.

Janus takes Thomas’s arm, and steers him out of the butchery. “Next time, let’s pick something other than the steak to fixate on, hm?” he says, voice entirely too calm.

“Hm, I’ll drink to that,” Thomas agrees, letting himself be steered. “And drink. And drink. And keep on drinking. Hey, let’s go to Seph’s right now; I feel like developing a major alcohol dependency for the sake of my own mental health. Who’s with me?”

They pretty much all are, not that it matters. This time around is going to be over soon enough, just like the others, and it really is completely up to chance whether any of them will remember this, or will remember it in time, or will even care.

Hades, alone in the butcher’s room, picks up a clean knife. She weighs it from side to side, thoughtful. She doesn’t exactly understand all the fuss – meat is meat, after all, no matter where it comes from. She doesn’t regret sharing the information, only that her wife may be upset by the fallout.

She’s wearing her nice clothes, and she never likes staining the gold and white – it’s absolute hell to get out, and she of all people knows that’s not an exaggeration – so she replaces the knife and casts one last glance around the room before turning and stepping out with the shift shift shift of moving fabric and the gentle clik-clak of boots on marble floor.

The light clicks off.

The smell of meat lingers.

*

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

Anon asked: hey babe! if you feel comfortable, could you please do a blurb about peter parker finding out the reader has an ED that’s she’s been trying to hide from him? i understand if you’re uncomfortable with that but i would appreciate if you could write it. i love your work, thanks for everything :)

requests are now closed

A/N: hi love, thanks so much for the request! and also deepest apologies because it took me so long to do it but i was quite busy recently 😖😣 anyway hope you will enjoy it and please, all of you take care of yourselves 💖

‘Let me help you’

Warnings: ANGST (mention of eating disorder/anorexia and its side effects) but fluff in the end

masterlist | taglist

“MJ, have you seen (Y/N)? There is not gonna be any food left if she doesn’t hurry” notices Ned, as he digs his fork into some mashed potatoes.

Peter turns towards the girl who absently draws lots of doodles on her notebook, her food half eaten already.

“Well we have an individual project to present in class in like two weeks, so yeah she told me she will do it during lunch time in the library” MJ replies not looking at the boys, the pen she holds quickly tracing lines here and there on the paper.

Peter frowns. It is not the first time you do that. Indeed, it has been going on for a few weeks now. Skipping lunch. Refusing snacks. Not finishing your food anymore. Peter doesn’t like it, as if something is not right. Ned catches the expression on his friend’s face, before he tries to relax the atmosphere by talking about what happened during Spanish lesson earlier.

But Peter’s mind is somewhere else. He will have to wait until afternoon classes to see you again and have a talk together.

* * * *

Gym class.

Peter and Ned already started the warm-up exercises in the middle of the sports hall. Peter is easily doing some sit-ups as Ned hold his friend’s knees into position, not amazed by his strength anymore. 

“Oh, the girls are finally here” says Ned.

Peter stops his movements, torso still in mid air as he follows Ned’s look. And that is when he sees you.

You stand next to MJ while exiting the changing rooms, hair put into a ponytail, wearing the usual blue sweatshirt given by the school and a pair of legging with black trainers. But as Peter sensed it at lunch, something was completely wrong with you. 

As you approach some other girls sitting on the rows of the gym, Peter can’t help but scans your body from where he is. The sweatshirt you wear is now completely hiding you usual features like your frame is being sucked up in it. Also the legging is almost too loose around your thighs and calves. Have your cheeks always been growing hollow?

Eventually you catch Peter’s eyes but quickly avoid them, biting your bottom lips as if hiding from him.

That’s not good.

“Um, Peter- you look weird like that, keep going before Flash makes a stupid comment” whispers Ned to his friend, knowing exactly who he was looking at.

Following Ned’s advice, Peter keeps doing sit-ups a bit faster this time, his face now showing a lot of concern. 

“I’ll talk to (Y/N) before the last lesson” grumbles Peter, mouth thiner than usual.

“Yeah, you definitely have to” encourages Ned, nodding.

* * * *

After refreshing and changing into your normal clothes, you tell MJ you need to go to your locker to take some books. Your tall friend nods before saying to join her at the little outside court.

As you walk into the empty halls, the students all out to enjoy the exceptionally good spring weather in Queens during the break, you pass a corner as you fall face to face with Peter. He is actually waiting next to your locker, his eyes already on you. The eye contact makes you slightly jumps but you still keep walking towards him as usual. 

“Hi Pete, you’re not outside with the others?” you shyly ask.

“I needed to talk to you, (Y/N). It’s important.”

You gulp. Peter’s face is indeed serious, his sharp look examining every single moves and expressions you make. Trying to act as casual as possible, you put your backpack down and open your locker, Peter not looking away from you. 

Before closing the locker, Peter holds an apple out right to your face, startling you a little. Your eyes go back and forth to your friend and the apple he offers you, not really knowing what to do.

“I- Thank you Peter, but I’m not hungry right now-”

“(Y/N), do you intentionally skip lunches and other meals?”

You froze, panic rising into your body. You look down to avoid his eyes, no word making their way out your mouth. 

You can’t say it. You didn’t want to. But in the end, Peter understood by himself.

“(Y/N), please look at me.”

This voice is soothing and at the same time, there is an ounce of sadness behind it that makes you finally turn your head to him. Your eyes then fall on the apple, still in his hand and your lips start trembling, a light sob breaking through your lips. 

And right before you break in front of him, Peter embraces you in his arms, his grip strong but still delicate to keep you against him. He now feels how much you lost weight, your current undershirt and jumper doing nothing to hide it now. You can’t contain your sobbing anymore.

“Why did you not tell me about it, (Y/N)?” Peter asks softly, engulfing your head on his chest.

“I just- I- I couldn’t, I didn’t want to worry you or-”

“For God’s sake (Y/N), you know you can tell me literally anything! And seeing you right now, depraving yourself from eating and hurt makes me feel I’m the worst friend ever...”

Peter’s voice is muffled in your hair, himself not trusting his voice either as the tears slowly make their way to his waterlines.

“You can’t get back on your feet alone, you can’t fight anorexia alone. I will help you (Y/N), little by little, but I will if you allow me. I just can’t let you get any more sick. Please...”

Your sobs finally calmed down, you raise your head to meet Peter’s glance noting his own eyes glowing. Still holding you, he brings his hand up your face to wipe your tears with his thumbs. His touch is calming and soft, you feel safe in his arms, almost unstoppable. 

“Please Peter, help me...” you ask, almost plead him in a whisper.

“Of course (Y/N)” he says while caressing your rosy cheek, “I will help you and always I will.”

You let out a relieved sigh.

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[errthel]

Route Two : Model Lucien (5)

Hello, wassup, yup, I don't know what other word to use- bonjour. That's it. So um, I hope you like Model Lucien... bcs he pretty hot cute

As always, a big thanks to @tri3tri for creating such wonderful yandere stories, my heart hurts, and for letting me and many others create stories based on her stories and AUs.

Alrighty so let's get to it.

The next day was tame and relaxed for the (h/c) haired boy as he continued on with his classes. He aced the chemistry test, did well in dancing and magic history all was doing alright-

"Luciiiiieeeennnn! You look so handsome in the photos!!!" Brier said skipping into Lucien's classroom right after the bell indicating lunch rang

"Ha?"

Brier showed his screen to the clueless boy, swiping each photo where Lucien looked hot as shit very handsome. The rest of his classmates congratulated him, patting him in the back, complimenting him, encouraging him, as he teared up and pouted.

"I look better than that photo..."

~

The black haired man looked at his phone in absolute awe, his son's magicam on full display.

Splayed on his latest post, a boy, with the most beautiful (h/c) hair, expressive (e/c) eyes, smooth pale skin, fine bone structure, pink lips, his slim body hidden by fine wool pieces signifying the autumnal season.

He wore a three piece suit consisting of a suit jacket, vest, and a pair of tailored pants. The wool was in a warm brown wool with a lovely. houndstooth pattern. He casually sat on a white chair with intricate patterns on it. Casual his pose may be, but God did it fit him.

This was the first time Neige has seen the boy in the post, but he was beyond curious, who was he? Where did he come from? If he was this handsome, no doubt would he have seen him earlier as a child model.

Lucien, that was his name, nothing in the description of the post said anything about where he came from.

"Mira, reschedule my schedule. I'm visiting RSA."

~

The blonde haired man, who finished a small workout, was checking his magicam while drinking apple juice from his friend's hometown.

His search didn't go far as he dropped his phone in sheer surprise.

His hands stumbled to snatch his phone off the floor, checking again truly showed that this boy was truly, truly like the epitome of beauty.

Vil, looked again at the boy who surprised him so much and studied him like a scientist does to his specimen.

(H/c) colored hair that was as silky as the finest silk, (e/c) eyes that gleamed like gems, pink lips that curled up into a smirk as he wore a black suit that fit perfectly. Vil couldn't help but remember from years ago, a special person. The potato from Ramshackle Dorm, the messy beauty who helped him out during his third year of high school.

Was he her child? There was only one way to find out.

"Mira, reschedule my schedule. It seems I'm going to RSA." Vil said seething a bit at the end

Vil typed in some numbers and brought the phone to his ear.

"Oui?"

"Rook, we're going to RSA."

~

Lucien looked at the envelope of cash Noel gave him and his eyes almost popped out of its sockets. Counting the money, he was able to deduce that what he had received was a staggering amount of money. They were currently in the ever busy Modeling Clubroom.

"Noel-senpai! This must be a mistake!"

"Eh? Is it not enough?"

"What? No!? It's too much for a high schooler to have!"

"Oh! That's your share, you were really popular you know, say, why don't you buy a phone and make a magicam with that money. I'm sure you'll be able to get more."

"That's not the point!"

A knock disrupted the two students as they looked at the culprit, Asher stood there clearing his throat.

"Heyya Lucien-chan~ you got some guests."

"Eh?"

"My, my, you look so much more beautiful in person Lucien-san."

"Hmph! I'd say there's a clear difference between a photo and the real thing."

"You must be Monsieur Lucien! Ah such beauty! I shall call you Le Prince Inattendu!"

"Who are these???"

~

(E/c) eyes observed the seemingly neverending grey sky that blanketed the Valley of Thorns. Those eyes looked soulless as they looked out to the distance from their window.

The owner of those eyes wore a soft nightgown made with what can only be imagined as the best silk money could buy. She sat on her comfortable window seat staring off at what ever caught her eyes on the palace grounds.

A knock on her door didn't faze her ministrations as well as the creak of the opening door.

"Your Highness, His Highness was worried that you didn't eat breakfast." her most trusted maid said with a deep bow

The queen reverted her eyes towards the maid and wondered why she still served her and not Bellatrix. Honestly she could have chosen to serve Bellatrix instead and have a friendlier and cooperative mistress, like a dog itching for attention.

"I'm not in the mood to eat any time soon."

"Then I will have your lunch be delivered to your bedroom Your Highness." swiftly replying, she left the (h/c) haired woman to let her further enjoy her peace

"..."

Glancing off into the distance, she saw in one of the many palace gardens, Bellatrix holding what seems to be a tea party.

Typical of her, after all she was rather childish and longed for praise and showers of compliments and if she couldn't get it from Malleus, she would have to get it from her fellow noble ladies of the Valley of Thorns.

"My love. I had heard that you didn't want to eat."

Ah, the person she least wanted to see.

"..."

"Please don't be like that my dear, it hurts me that you aren't talking to me." Malleus walked closer and closer to her sitting figure, trying to get her to at least talk

"..."

Malleus gripped her shoulders as he tried to get her to talk, saying words of endearment, cooing at her, he tried everything.

Dejected, he walked out of the room-

"I want to talk to my children, not you..."

~

Sharp (e/c) eyes stared right into the lenses of the camera, a hint of eye liner to make it a bit more mysterious. The owner of those eyes contorted his body to accommodate the two older models who was also staring into the lenses.

Clapping and praise came from the blonde haired man who stood beside the photographer, his enthusiasm was synonymous to what the whole room was feeling as they all, in their own ways, were at awe with the three attractive creatures in front of them.

The blond model was stationed on the left of the youngest and was exceptionally beautiful, no, a better word would be gorgeous. His energy and appearance gave a mature and somewhat devilish look to to the man. He was dressed in a lavish suit in a daring deep red color, his hair was slicked back to show off his perfect skin and structured face.

The man posed the right of the youngest was in an opulent deep yellow suit that rivalled the blond's deep red suit. He had an air of regality to him as he looked at the lenses. His dark hair was tousled and gave him a youthful look. If the blond model capitalized on immortal maturity, then this black haired one focused on giving the appearance of staying forever young.

The youngest drew a fine line in the middle of the extremes the men beside him were displaying. He had the aura of a mature man, with his suit being in a traditional dark blue color, inside the body of a teenager, which was shown through the fashion forward way in which his suit was constructed. His hair was unchanged from his usual style, the fringe staying to cover up his little secret.

The photoshoot went on for another hour and they soon started to finish up. Lucien, exhausted, accepted all the praise that was given to him with a bit of embarrassment. Neige clapped as he went closer to the boy, only to be stopped by Vil, who held Lucien's wrist.

Vil gave a charming smile before leading Lucien to a secluded table, far from any prying ears.

"Lucien, that's your name isn't it?"

"Mhm, Vil-san, why did you bring here?"

Vil stared hard into those eyes that shined as bright as the eyes of that girl from two decades ago, they were shrouded in a mysterious veil, Vil spotted it the first time he saw him in person and immediately became anxious. He was impressed with how well he hid it, but Vil wasn't idiotic enough to not see through it, he was Vil Schoenheit after all.

"Just a small question, I am wondering if you know anyone going by the name of (M/c) (L/n)? I realized that you both had the same surnames, so I was curious." polite and short

"... I don't think I ever came across someone who goes by that name."

"Is that so? I see, then good job today, you weren't half bad." Vil said as he left, not before his eyes trailed to look at Lucien's eyes

I hope you liked the little MC part =), so I just wanted to bring in some characters from the Valley of Thorns and others will have their own parts in the coming chapters so we won't focus too much on Lucien, to my chagrin.

Anyways, thanks for reading♡

Edit, I edited (Y/n) to (M/c) because while Y/n means Your Name, I don't think people like using themselves in these kinds of stories so instead I changed it to (M/c) to make it less akward, I hope you don't mind.

[op-peccatori]

a helping hand (nsfw)| MLQC Victor

A/N: Alright, so. A couple things: I wasn’t sure how...heated I should make it, so I didn’t make it very explicit. Also...I don’t know a word of french. I had it for three years in middle school–about ten years ago lmaoo so...had a little too much fun with the translators

If there are any French speakers/readers reading this...please don’t cry. And if you have any corrections, please dm me! I’ll be happy to make changes XD

Anon...I hope you like it. I had a lot of fun with it. totally not cackling. 

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Victor 

Rating: 18+

Summary: In a shocking turn of events, a lesson with Victor leads to other, intimate, activities. He’s a lot more talkative than usual except–you don’t understand most of what he’s saying.

(tags under the cut)

Warnings/tags: nsfw, oral sex, nothing too explicit, my amateur English to French online translations, Victor getting the cheesiest lines in the scene

translations at the bottom for those who want ‘em

“La carte, s’il vous plaît,” you say out loud, with as much confidence as you can muster. There’s still a quiver of hesitance in your voice, but Victor lets it go. 

“Qu’est-ce que vous conseillez?” He nods, and you take it as an indication for you to continue. His living room is warm, a place you've grown to be comfortable in with time, and you’re feeling rather unhelpfully cosy as you sit next to him with your little notebook in hand.

“Um, nous...nous voudrions commander maintenant.” You try to refrain from glancing at your notes as he shifts closer, the heat emanating from his body tempting you in small rushes. His hand brushes yours as he reaches for the notebook, slipping it from your grasp with little resistance.“Je ne peux pas manger...” you trail off, unable to remember the word. “...peanuts?” 

Victor seems almost distracted as you turn to stare at him expectantly. His fingers are curling a lock of your hair around them over and over, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking at him pleadingly. “Les cacahuètes.” 

You try to ignore the shiver that crawls down your spine at the way his voice works the words, and focus on saying them. “Les cacahuètes.” 

“Hmm.” He seems completely relaxed as he reclines on the sofa, his body angled to face you with his elbow folded on top of the tight back sofa back, his head resting on the palm of his hand. You can’t quite bring yourself to face him as, despite his arguments against the fact, Victor has a very distracting face. Not to mention the fact that he’s been oddly focused on you since you stepped into his house. Even now, he looks at you as if he wants something but doesn't quite know how to say it, or doesn’t want to. You understand, but his reluctance to express himself does frustrate you at times.

With his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a missing tie and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, you also have to make a valiant effort to keep your drool in check. 

“Merci beaucoup,” you say cheerfully, taking the twitch of his mouth for what it is–his attempt at suppressing a smile. “Let’s see...oh! L’addition, s’il vous plaît.” 

“Beau travail." You think it’s unfair that he makes it sound like that, like art that hides away on his tongue and allows you small glimpses to torment you, derailing your entire thought process with sickening ease. 

'I mean...I am allowed to thirst after my own boyfriend...'

“I wish I could go with you,” you grumble, trying to imagine whole days spent listening to Victor speaking French as he feeds you little bites of cake. It would be lethal. 

A good way to go, you think. 

“We can.” He leans until his lips brush over the shell of your ear. “I want to go with you.” 

‘But this is a work-related trip,’ you protest in your head because your lips won’t move to say them. You’re travelling to France for a show, and he’s been a little off since you told him about it. He did agree to teach you a few basic phrases, and you have to admit that he’s a great teacher even when he’s sulking. Your relationship is still new, but you know him well enough to know it’s because of one of the cast members of the show. Kim, one of the singers, hasn’t exactly been shy about his interest in you. He’s backed off since you told him you’re not available, but it seems Victor’s still on edge about it. 

It must still be on his mind because he sighs and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You can’t help but run your hand through his silken strands, the urge to soothe his irrational worries away driving you to act, even if you think he's being a touch melodramatic.

Not that you’ll ever say that out loud. Victor probably knows he’s being irrational, he doesn’t need you to tell him that. You hope.

You also hope he doesn’t feel the kiss you press into his hair, light and sneaky as it is. His hair smells sharp and fresh, and you barely restrain the urge to get another sniff in.

“There are so many places I want to take you,” he mumbles, shifting until his lips settle on the side of your neck. Heat spreads through your body as he leans over you, a hand coming to rest on your other side, half-caging you between his body and the sofa. You hadn't expected him to shift gears this quickly, and the way his lips brush against the spot where your pulse feels stronger doesn't quite match up with all the pouting he's been doing. It does, however, open a door you've been hovering outside of all day.

This is your chance. 

“Victor?” You heart races as you try to remember the right words. This is, as they say, not in the syllabus and you’re not even sure if it’s correct, but you want to try it anyway. 

“Yes?” You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inhales deeply, and his tongue flicks against your warm skin. You’re wearing a scent he’s expressed partiality to in the past, and if the way he hums with contentment is any indication, he still quite likes it. 

“Victor, je peux t’embrasser?” you ask, your cheeks flushing and breath quickening when he pauses. You fight down the embarrassment and focus on his reaction.

Can I kiss you? 

The curl of his lips is obvious as he meets your eyes, and even as he kisses you, you can feel it on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach explode into a tizzy It’s too warm all of a sudden, and your lungs work extra hard as the space between you both lessens. Victor is nearly on top of you as you both sink into each other, deepening the meeting of your mouths as his hands begin to wander along your sides, firm in the way they glide along your clothed skin.

It's not the first time you've kissed, but it feels different. The sweetness of it has solidified into a foundation for the hot desire that slowly spills out of you. There is something needy in the way he clings to you and then pulls away, as if he's unsure of how you'll take it. You pull him closer in response, overwhelmed by your own sudden yearning. 

His thumb rubs slow circles over your knee as his lips glide across your jaw, down the slender slope of your neck. He grows more fervent with each breathless sound that leaves your mouth, and you want to lose yourself in his arms. It is the one place you wouldn’t mind being lost in for the rest of your days, and the thought should terrify you more than it does.

And as his lips slide over to press sweet kisses under your ear, he begins to speak words that seem to have been crafted with the sole purpose of stealing your breath away. “Je sais que je ne trouve pas toujours les mots, et je ne ressens pas toujours les bons sentiments...” His voice is pitched low yet so roughened with emotions you can’t even begin to pick them out; you’re torn between hissing with outrage and moaning with pleasure. “...mais je t’aime fort, et il faut que tu le saches.”

As he teeth scrape against tender skin, as you moan softly, your mind struggles to work through what little you caught of his words. 

‘Je t’aime.’ Your heart pounds as he pushes you down onto your back, and you get a glimpse of the liquid want swimming in his eyes. Your legs part so he can rest between them, and your mind nearly collapses when your shirt is pushed up and his lips travel south through the valley of your breasts, roaming over the soft planes of your stomach. 

“Victor,” you breathe, twisting under the maddening explorations of his mouth. 

“Tu es si belle,” he groans into your waist, as he if can't help it. His hand plays with the hem of your skirt, and you think you might lose your mind if it stays there. A part of you hopes dearly that you can at least retain some of what he’s saying; Victor has a terrible habit of whispering soft things in your ear, and you would appreciate it a lot more if you could actually understand what he says. The way he says them hints at sweet romance, and you can’t help but melt at the dulcet tones of his voice every single time–but you had initially thought he could be making fun of you.

You don’t think he’s making fun of you right now. 

“Victor, please,” you whimper. You cycle between cursing and pleading at the unfairness of this man, at the way his hand dips beneath your skirt but doesn’t go too far, his curious fingers stroking your tender skin gently.

“Mon cœur bat pour toi seul."  With a pounding heart, you watch as he tilts his head up to study you, his eyes ablaze with a hunger that threatens to burn if you stare too long. The slight smirk that twists along his lips can only be called sinful, giving away his intentions before he even ducks under your skirt. 

As his mouth latches on to you through damp cotton, you can’t help the squeak that escapes you when you hear him inhale, a low groan at its heels that borders on obscene. You strain your ears when you realise he’s saying something, but you’re not sure what it is, and he doesn't give you a chance to find out. He wields his tongue like an unholy weapon and slowly works you through a slow descent into madness. What’s left of your sanity decides it–you must devote yourself to learning this language. 

“Je suis...fou amoureux de toi,” he whispers into your skin, so softly you think you might have imagined it. He climbs back up your body, and an eager kiss awaits him at the top.

“I’m not going to give up until I know what every single word means,” you mumble, the dazed vow amusing your boyfriend immensely as he curls around you. The quiet breath of laughter sounds faint but you feel it against your skin.

“You’ll have to be a good student and attend every lesson.” 

“With a professor so handsome? I couldn’t miss a single one.” You turn to press your mouth to the skin above his heart, smiling when he squeezes you tighter.

“Oh, handsome?” He clearly tries to aim for cockiness, but sounds a little too pleased to be convincing in any way. His heart throbs powerfully under your lips, and you slide them over to his clavicle, deeming it your turn to do the tasting. But before you start, you have one final card to play.

“Mhm. Je te trouve très beau,” you say teasingly, with the most charming smile in your arsenal and a saucy wink–before being driven to helpless giggles as he pounces yet again.  

Translations:

Qu’est-ce que vous conseillez?: What do you recommend?

nous voudrions commander maintenant: I want to order

Je ne peux pas manger: I can’t eat

Les cacahuètes: peanuts

Merci beaucoup: thank you very much

L’addition, s’il vous plaît: the bill/check, please

Beau travail: good work

je peux t’embrasser?: can I kiss you?

Je sais que je ne trouve pas toujours les mots, et je ne ressens pas toujours les bons sentiments: I know I don’t always find the words, and I don’t always feel the right feelings

mais je t’aime fort, et il faut que tu le saches: but I love you very much, and you need to know 

Tu es si belle: you’re so beautiful

Mon cœur bat pour toi seul: my heart beats for you alone

Je suis...fou amoureux de toi: I’m madly in love with you

Je te trouve très beau: I think you’re very beautiful/handsome

[paradise-creator]

OwO when u have time,, can I have a haven box for BNHA?? But just when you’re free and not working on prior works!! >:( I’m watching u bish

You can use my name in the result if you want to lol I already know it anyway!!

She/her, Taurus, INTJ, slytherin (pretty freakin’ queer but I usually lean towards boys/enbies more)

Personality: the first thing people notice about me is that I am less of a feeler and more of a thinker. I do have an IQ of 125, but my emotional intelligence is quite low, so I have trouble sympathizing with others. But I learned through experience, so I don’t SEEM emotionless. I can (and will) help my friends through tough times if they need me. I’m pragmatic, so I always go for the facts instead of the feelings during decision making or tough situations. I hold a lot of perfectionist traits that make it really hard for me to be satisfied with my results if they aren’t higher than the norm. I also have a slight issue with saying no, so sometimes I’ll offer my help or enrol myself in long-term projects while knowing I legit do not have time for more stuff on my schedule. Being a bit smarter than average, I sometimes feel like I’m obligated to help others so that they can do good too (however, I do like helping people with their hw to a certain extent). I’m working on those issues though!! I’m also an introvert, and I can get rlly tired if I have to be interacting for more than four hours straight with people, especially if their persona isn’t rlly compatible with mine.

However, when I’m surrounded by friends (or generally people who aren’t my superiors), I’m very energetic, loud, silly and I have a sharp tongue. I’m also insanely competitive, like someone please stop me?? My sense of humour goes from absolute nonsense to almost mean spirited sarcasm, but it all depends on who I’m talking to. I’m a MAJOR memer, I have a bunch of files filled with them, and I couldn’t bear be with people who didn’t understand my meme references. When I start liking something, I can get easily obsessed. I’m stubborn, therefore very passionate about the things I care about. I also have a slight case of the Endorphin Junkie, meaning that I really, really like the high you get after sports so I do crossfit training like five to six times a week. I’m unapologetically myself, and I will not ever change who I am to fit within the norm. I’m sometimes told that (that I’m odd, I mean), but I usually thank the people who tell me. I have a really, really big love for music and I have a tendency to break into song sometimes when people say a line from a song I know. I also cry sometimes when music gets really good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whoops

Appearance: I’m around 5’6”, with hazel eyes and brown hair that goes around to my shoulders. It gets curly out of nowhere. I can either wake up with straight hair or wake up with a freakin perm, it’s funny. My body isn’t exactly the lean type, I’m somewhere around the buff area of the scale instead, but as long as I seem visibly strong, I’m satisfied. When I’m not going anywhere significant, I usually just wear sport shirts and sweats, but I have a penchant for Dark Academia so I like /looking/ like I’m smart sometimes. And I have glasses bc apparently my eyes are assholes and they work too hard and it hurts my brain all the time

Likes: music (DavidBowieDavidBowieDavidBow-); I have a really wide range of music that goes from early 2000’s pop to 1700’s requiems(my faves are Bowie, Queen and Pink Floyd). I enjoy studying theoretical fields, reading, and I like talking about Absurd Theories About Reality That Make Little To No Sense. I like sports, and I love joking around with friends in the most exaggerated ways. I also love the colour green and I’m more of a cat person

Dislikes: dogs (they’re cute but keep them away pls), ignorant people, irresponsible people, spiders, things I’m not good at from the beginning, having to deal with strangers being upset, crying (me. I don’t like crying; I mean me, I’m fine if my friends cry)

Other fun facts!!

- my goals for the future are all over the place; I want to work for Disney, I want to get a musical composition degree, I want a biomedical engineering bachelors degree, I want an astrophysics doctorate, I want to study languages, I want to be a foreign English teacher... I can’t ever decide.

- I have a long history with getting crushes on guys who turned out to be gay. It happens so often and I HATE IT, it makes me feel terrible.

- I!!love!!70’s!!music!!so!!much!! I was raised on that stuff, my dad wouldn’t let us listen to anything else

- Lol my favourite playlist name is Drugs Playlist But I Don’t Even Do Drugs it’s just a bunch of Pink Floyd and David Bowie songs

- My favourite movies are 80’s or 90’s comedy classics!! Like Wayne’s World, or Airplane!, or Night at the Roxbury. I keep quoting Wayne’s World and no one understands :(

↬ ──:.⃗➹ +.*༉‧ᵕ̈°`*↷. ೃ₊✎⸙͎˚- ̗̀✧: ──↫

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ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Flashes of memory

- Truth or dare gone wrong

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sero Hanata, Cellophane

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

The reasons I paired you

- It me awhile to think about who to match you up with

- I was thinking of either Bakugou or Denki

- BUT THEN I REMEMBERED SERO

- Sero is such an underrated character smh

- BUT THIS DYNAMIC IS WHAT I LIVE FOR

-At first, you might be annoyed at his lack of knowledge but you over past that

- His EQ can help you grow as a person as well

- You have the IQ he has the EQ, BALANCE!

- You two would often have laughing sessions at class

- No cap tho, you two would be the most interesting couple

- You guys would have a matching necklace or a Keychain (IDK why but I feel like it-)

- You get along well with Denki, (IT TOOK A LONG TIME)

- But you would rather hang out with Bakugou (He tolerates you more than the others).

- BRO, please give him love. He craves your attention

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Flashes of memories

Sero: Hello there hot stuff!

Eve: Hello there Soy sauce

Sero: NOT YOU TOO

Eve: Just kidding, Hello babe

Sero: ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?

Eve: Yes, killing you with love

Sero: Dang that's smooth

-------------------------

Sero: He-

Eve: I didn't take your Pocky, Denki did

Sero: How-

Eve: You've been yelling about it for the past few minutes

Sero: Oh-

-------------------------

Sero: Can you help me with studying?

Eve: Struggling again?

Sero: Yes...

Eve: Why did I date you again?

Sero: Please?

Eve: ...

Also Eve: Fine

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Truth or dare gone wrong

The class 1-A were all gathered in their common room, even Bakugou was present. The class was having a truth or dare session, it seemed interesting. “Sero, my man! Truth or dare?” Denki asked as he looked at Sero. “Truth! I choose truth,” Sero said. “Who have you been talking on the phone to this past weeks? The one I keep hearing is my pumpkin?” Denki asked. Sero’s face then turned a light shade of pink. “O-Oh- ummm,” He started as he looked away. “Does our Cellophane have a girlfriend?” Mina teased as she poked Sero. “Y-Yeah,” He stuttered. “OI THAT’S NOT FAIR?!? WHY CAN YOU HAVE A GIRL BUT I CAN’T,” Denki sulked as he placed his head on the table. “If you weren’t such a perv then maybe you can get one!” Hakagure responded.

“Don’t be shy. Tell us more,” Mina said. Sero’s blush darkened and he looked away. “We are playing truth or dare! It’s my turn to ask,” Sero then said. “Actually, I am quite curious as well. We can always continue later,” Momo said as she smiled. Everyone agreed and they then looked at the nervous male. “C’mon now guys, this is unfair,” Sero said as he looked at everyone. “But you have a girl and we want tea,” Mina then said as she sat in front of him. “I- um, you guys really want to know about her, huh?” Sero said as he chuckled. Everyone nodded and stared at Sero intently. “Just tell us already, Soy sauce,” Bakugou growled as he glared at Sero. “Don’t listen to him, bro. He is just jealous,” Kirishima said. “WHAT-“ Bakugou was about to counter but was silenced. “Fine! Fine! You got me in a corner,” Sero then said as he chuckled. “She should be coming here,” He added as he looked at the door. “Three, two, one,” He then said as he pointed to the door.

“Hello, is Sero Hanta here?”A feminine voice said. “ARE YOU A PSYCHIC?” Denki said as he looked surprised. “I’m right here pumpkin!” Sero then said as he smirked. His nervousness melted away as he saw the 5’6ft girl. It was his girlfriend, Eve, and he was overjoyed. “Hey there babe!” She then said as she smiled. “DANG YOU GOT A FINE LADY!” Denki then yelled as he checked her out. “Keep your eyes above for I’ll gorge them out,” Eve then said as she glared at Denki. Soon enough, Mineta tried to touch her as well but his efforts were at vain. Sero used his tape as to stop Mineta from getting closer. And Eve kicked him away, far away from her. “Get your filthy hands away from her,” Sero said as he stood up. He then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Woah, that was so manly!” Kirishima said as he smiled.

“GIRLS! GET HER-“ Mina said as she tackled the girl. They didn’t fall down but Mina was laughing and hugging her. “Girl! How long have you been together?” Mina asked as she pulled away. Eve was a bit uncomfortable but she merely had a stoic face. “A few weeks,” She responded bluntly. And soon enough, the truth or dare session was forgotten. It was replace with the class 1-A trying to pry out the tea from the couple. Did they succeed? No, not really. Though the class seemed to love Eve and her antics. The class even tried to make them forget about the date they have planned. But either way, Sero and Eve got manage to get away to have their small movie date at his room.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hai bb! I'm sorry it took so long. But thanks for requesting again~

[0vorenation0]

Taming the King of the Skies

(Series #6) ~loyalty Part2

Story made for @KadeTheDragon6520 https://kadegreene18plus.tumblr.com/ on discord and tumblr. We worked very hard to make this two part story in the VoreNation series. If you are a member on discord server, then you will know that Kade is my pet dragon. This is explaining how we met. I really enjoyed making this so pls give it a like. Happy Vore Day as well)

After a few minutes the pain intensified and I passed out from shock and lack of oxygen. Outside the gut, the dragon had digested his meal without any problems. His prey was nothing but mush. Then, all of a sudden, the dragon felt a sharp pain in his wing and shoulder. It was so intense it made him roar with enough force to shake the cave. The broken wing healed and fixed itself, so the dragon stood up and gave it a few experimental stretches and flaps. The sudden movements caused some air to bubble out of his stomach. Buurrrppp... A skull of the King went flying across the cave, bouncing off a wall and clattering to the ground. The dragon sniffed it and gave a wide smile. He sat back down and curled up to take a long-needed nap. As he lay down, the skull began to shine and grow bright. He looked up, then turned his head and shielded his eyes. It shone so bright the whole cave lit up, and when the light dimmed, I stood in my skull's place, confused but fully aware. I stood up straight and looked at the wing. “Hey it’s fixed I told you it would work!!!”

"You're strange," the dragon said, in a soft voice. I was shocked. It could talk?? "Nobody's ever survived my gut before without a reformation machine."

“Wait what, you can talk? I said totally taken of guard

The dragon sighs with exasperation. "Yes I can talk. Why shouldn't I? I'm not some common animal."

“Well I mean sure, your a fucking dragon. I know I shouldn’t be surprised since I’m part werewolf, but why didn’t you say anything before I was eaten. Btw one of the weirdest experiences of my life. I still haven’t heard a thank you” Cal rambles on as he still try’s to comprehend a talking dragon

"Why should I thank you? You tried to kill me like five separate times in the last eight hours. I was just trying to return the favor."

"They were delicious, thank you."

The dragon circles the much smaller man, like a shark circling a surfer. "You flew into my storm. You want to protect your assets, I'm going to protect mine."

“Ummm dumb question how is a storm ur asset? It’s not like you created that storm heh heh” Cal nervously turns to stay in eye contact with the dragon. “So mister dragon, do you have a name?”

"Kade. Kade, the Great Dragon of the sky. So yes, it was my storm. I did create it. Are you familiar with Great Dragons, human?" Kade says, leaning in real close for that last sentence.

“Oh wow your breath is really hot umm, no I’m not that familiar with great dragons. I just became part werewolf and knew monster type creatures were real like 3 months ago. Uhh can I just um yeah uhh *boop. Your nose feels really good. Sorry don’t eat me again, I noticed it the first time u ate me” Cal says as he slowly back up. He’s not usually frightened of anything but a massive 40 ton dragon will make anyone weak in there knees.

"We're some of the most powerful beings on the planet. Godlike in power. One could call me the King of the Skies." Kade says, spreading his wings and standing tall, letting him bask in his glory.

"That is, if any of them respected me. I'm 'too young,' they say. I'm 24, that shouldn't be too young." The dragon is just complaining to himself at this point and seems to have forgotten that Cal exists.

“Ohh that’s sad, im sorry your not treated like the glorious dragon you are. Your so stunning, your big beautiful wings, big sharp teeth, long yellow tail, and these amazingly pointy horns. Your amazing, very handsome if I do say so myself.” Cal say, wondering if Kade the dragon is even listening

"I know right? But those stuck up higher-ups think I need to be a couple thousand before I... I'm rambling. Point is, I own the skies, and considering what you've done to me so far, you'll have to work hard to gain my trust." Kade says, slowly moving his wing around to emphasize what got hurt.

“Well how can I make it up to you? I’ve heard rumors that dragons like gold, I have tons of that back at VoreNation!!! I promise as long as I live no harm will befall upon you or any other dragons. It’s okay Kade I won’t hurt u ever again I promise. You know us humans are always shoot ask questions later” cal says jokingly, but cautiously

"Gold? How much gold?" The dragon's eyes might up with curiosity. Goldlust. Every dragon's fatal weakness.

“Ohhh ummm, as much as you want!!! You could have a hoard of gold if u want. VoreNation is very rich in gold, so most of it just lies around in my gold room. Also, to make it up to you you can be apart of the royals in VoreNation. Who knows maybe one day you will be a royal mount for me hehe!!” With happiness cal offers everything to Kade the mighty dragon

"Royalty? That's... More like it.." the dragon purrs, mind already simplifying to only base desires. "Who are you anyways?" He asks sweetly.

Ohh I’m no one really, you ever flown by VoreNation? It’s a massive city, I come from a long line of kings and queens. I’m the sitting king, ruler of all VoreNation. So yeah no one really.”Cals chest boasted as he clarifies with pride

“A king, wow that’s impressive. I would love to come stay with you. Hope there’s plenty of things to eat in this City.” Kade says as he lowers himself gesturing for me to hop on his back.

“Please don’t go too fast I don’t want to fall off and fall to the ground without a parachute.” Cal Climbs on Kade back.

They depart and head for VoreNation, a long trip, Cal would have to see Saladin another time. As they reached the city, people were scared. Running inside to get away from the massive dragon. We landed at the castle and went into the throne room. I knighted Kade and proclaimed him the Royal Mount of VoreNation. I had a special sable made to fit Kade, fit well and looked good on him. I hugged Kade, and gave him a kiss on the nose. Our bond had grown quite strong, and he was more than a pet. He was family, Kade grew quite protective of me. Though Kade was a lot of work and made big messes. He was spoiled rotten, got more gold than anyone could imagine. A prisoner was brought to me, for threats against the throne. I came up with a great idea, I snapped my fingers. The man stretched out and transformed into a beautiful leather collar. With gold designs, and edging that spelled out Kade. He moved his massive head down and I placed it on him. Kade wrapped me up in his tail and licked my cheek. I stayed there for a while and we both fell asleep, cuddling each other. The bond between a dragon and his owner was strong, what started from hatred. Evolved into a beautiful trust, and loyal relationship.

The end~

[dreamwritesimagines]

Faint Of Heart 16- Flares Into The Sea [Ivar x Reader]

A.N.: I love your feedback so much ❤️ Please keep it coming! ❤️

Summary: Peace has its own time.

Characters: Ivar x Reader, Ubbe x Torvi, Hvitserk, Bjorn

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of violence and blood, and arranged marriage, please read with care. Also, friendly reminder that  I don’t condone any of the messed up stuff happening on the show or in here.

Word Count: 4059

Due to the linking issue, previous chapters are in my masterlist!  ❤️

Gif’s not mine!

You didn’t know you could feel that peaceful in Kattegat, but the warmth of the room, softness of the bed and the small waves of sleep along with the sunlight showering the room in gold felt as peaceful as it could get. You rested your head on Ivar’s chest while he was sitting up straight with his back against the headboard of the bed, his attention on the wooden rune sticks Bjorn and Ubbe had given him last night with one hand almost lazily playing with your hair while you kept your gaze on the pages of your book. The falcon was flying in the room as she wished and the sound of her wings almost felt like a soothing song to you at this point.

“Ivar?”

“Hm?”

“I think I got the translation wrong-what does this word mean?” You pointed at the line and Ivar turned his head, then leaned in closer.

“Auga?”

“Yes.”

“It means eye.”

You gawked at the page, frowning, “Wait-“ You read the line again, “Then it says here- Odin took out his own eye.”

“To gain wisdom, yes.”

“In return of water from a well- this means a well, does it not?”

“Mm hm. The water of Mimir’s Well contained knowledge.”

“He took out his own eye?” You repeated, making a face and he chuckled.

“You’re getting good at this,” he nodded at the book, and you smiled softly, running your fingertip on the yellow page.

“Still not fast enough, though.”

“How come you know so many languages and no one taught you anything about ours?”

“When I was growing up?” You asked, then shrugged, “I think that- they expected to marry me off to one of those kings whose language I could speak- or at least close to it, when I grew up. No one really thought about Viking kings and their huge armies.”

Ivar scoffed, “They should have,” he muttered into your hair, resting his nose on top of your head while you played with your necklace.

“They should have,” you repeated “That would surely be more beneficial than other things I’ve learned.”

“Such as?”

“Sewing, for example. I hated it, I was terrible at it and I kept poking my finger.”

Ivar scoffed, “What is it with you and sharp objects?”

“And now that I think of it, they should have thought me how to use a sword instead. Nobody taught us anything of the sort, and now I see all these shieldmaidens, they’re very good with swords.”

“They can surely raise a sword indeed, I think you should start from that.”

You elbowed him, making him chuckle silently,

“You will learn. Not even those shieldmaidens you seem to adore so much learned it quickly.”

You clicked your tongue and stole a look at the sticks he was holding. “What are you reading?”

“Something much less entertaining than story of Odin’s eye.”

You reached out to grab one from him “Is this what Ubbe gave you?”

“Yes. Merchants and their monthly incomes when we’re on a raid.”

You looked at the lines, but the language was more complex than your book’s language. Ivar’s grip around your waist tightened as he pressed his lips to your shoulder, making your cheeks burn as you sat up straighter.

“I can help you if you translate this to me.”

He didn’t even raise his head, “Hm?”

“I can help you with this- where is the rest that shows their income when you’re not on a raid?”

“Y/N-“

“Where is it?”

“On the table, but-“ he was cut off when you got up from the bed, and made your way to the table, making him heave a sigh. You could feel his intense gaze on you, watching your every move but you forced yourself to focus on finding what you were looking for.

“That’s way too troublesome.” Ivar commented, “I’d rather deal with the raid instead.”

“Some of your people aren’t warriors,” You reminded him, “And I should learn of the finances and the treasury, if I will be responsible of everything while you’re away.”

That seemed to make him smile a little and you raised your head from the rune sticks, smiling back at him.

“What?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Nothing. You will grow weary of it very soon.”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I wasn’t only educated in sewing.” You shot him a reprimanding look, “I know how to deal with treasury, all the princesses know.”

Ivar held up his hands, mocking surrender, “Very well then.”

“Is it alright if I have Gala translate these for me?”

“It’s not as if they’re very important,” Ivar shrugged, “You will get bored though.”

You grabbed the quill and the ink pot along with your parchments .

“Maybe, but I still need to learn.”

“But will you write me?” You insisted, tears filling your eyes once again as Bree squeezed your hand. Your bedchamber was empty, and all your trunks were already in Ivar’s ships-

Your husband’s ships.

Oh God.

“You write me first,” she said, “So that I can know whether you’re well or not, Y/N. Remember, if you write; “I miss the warm weather”-“

“It means he’s planning an attack.”

“And if you write I’m grateful for the furs-“

“The ships are already on the way, I memorized everything don’t worry.” You swallowed thickly, “What should I write if I’m unhappy though, Bree?”

Bree heaved a deep sigh, “Y/N…”

“I- I don’t know what to do…at night.” You whispered, “I know you taught me some things but I don’t think I can do them and- and-“

“Y/N, stop worrying about that.”

“Do you know what mother told me?” You asked her, “She told me to please him, that it would work on my own benefit. As if that’s the only thing that matters, as if- as if my comfort means nothing to her.”

“Don’t listen to her.”

“That’s what everyone thinks.” You commented bitterly, “My mother, my brother…everyone around me. Everyone in Kattegat will think the same, my husband included.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N.”

“You and I both know Vikings care very little about feelings, if at all.”

Bree opened her mouth, but stopped when somebody knocked on the door, then opened it.

Your brother’s men.

“We’re ready, your majesty.”

You felt as if you would faint, but then Bree pulled you into a deep hug and put something into your palm before closing your fingers around it. You frowned.

“Bree, what-?”You asked, looking down at it and you felt your blood freeze.

A small vial of powder.

Poison.

“Do not let anybody hurt you and walk away unharmed, do you hear me?” her whisper was inaudible to anyone else but you, and she pulled back to look you in the eye, “You were a princess before, and now you’re a Queen, you will not be disrespected, in any way.”

“Will you come back or not?” Ivar’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts and your head snapped up.

“I- yes,” You said and took a step but froze upon seeing him, gasping.

“What?”

“Ivar, your eyes!”  You rushed to bed to climb it while Ivar looked momentarily confused,

“Hm?”

“Your eyes are too…blue?” You said, looking at the whites of his eyes that had a slight bluish tint, making his blue irises even more vibrant and he closed them for a moment, muttering something that awfully sounded like a cuss under his breath before he opened them back and pulled himself upright, but the mere movement seemed to make him clench his jaw.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Ivar-“

“It’ll go away soon,” he said curtly and you licked your lips, your eyes searching his face,

“Are you in pain?”

“No,” he said through his teeth, his voice carrying none of the softness from minutes ago. Instead it was cold and bitter like before everything.

“Maybe you could rest a little-“

“Y/N.”

A part of you wanted to insist but he looked way too annoyed already, and you had a feeling that it would do more harm than good so you just stared at him while gritted his teeth.

“Um-“ You forced your mind to come up with something, anything to dissolve this tenseness and let out a small laugh, “I mean I would not oppose if you decided to stay here the whole day.”

Nothing.

“In fact, we should do that. Much to Ubbe’s displeasure, I’m sure.”

Silence.

Alright.

Apparently it would not be that easy this time.

“Have I told you about the time I almost drowned once?”

Ivar turned his head and looked at you silently, as if waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know how to swim, you see. And I-“

“What?”

“I never learned,” You shrugged, “We were running around, me and Bree, and I fell down into a lake and by the time guards pulled me up, I had already swallowed so much water, it was terrible. And it was winter time so by the time we got to the castle, I got cold-“

“You don’t know how to swim?”

“Because my clothes were drenched,” you said, as if he hadn’t interrupted you, “Anyway, I had such a fever and I had to stay in bed for days, and couple of days later I thought I would lose my mind. So Bree came up with this little game, to entertain me. Would you wish to hear it?”

Ivar shrugged silently, his jaw still clenched.

“Bree named it What If.” You said and cleared your throat, propping your head up on your closed fist, looking up at him. “You will tell me how we would have met if we were commoners.”

“That’s a foolish game,” he commented, “And we would not have met if that were the case.”

“That’s not true!”

“I would be here in Kattegat and you would be in your country, Y/N.”

You frowned, “Well if I were here though.”

“Nothing would happen.”

“Ivar, you’re terrible at this game-”

“Let’s say you were here, and not a royal,” He said, his tone full of sarcasm, “And if I were not a king, you never would have married me anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

He shot you a look, then motioned at himself and his legs which were under the heavy covers, “You would laugh in my face and walk away, while I was crawling on the ground.”

You gawked at him “You think so low of me?”

He rolled his eyes, “You think highly of the situation.”

Part of you wanted to snap at him but you managed to get a hold of your emotions before licking your lips.

“Well then I shall start if you will keep being bad at this,” You stated, making him heave a sigh. “If we were not royals, you would be-“

“Dead. Killed by my father after birth.”

You ignored his spiteful remarks, “You would be…hmm, what would be your occupation?”

“I think you and I can both agree on one thing for once, it would be very limited.”

You thought for a moment, then your head shot up, “Blacksmith!”

“What?”

“You would be a blacksmith, they do not need to run around to forge swords after all. And I would be-“

“Oh I think I can see where this is going…”

“I would be a shieldmaiden, Ivar!” You said with a big smile on your face, making him scoff.

“Of course.” he raised his brows, “A shieldmaiden, who can lift her sword I assume?”

“I would be the best shieldmaiden, going to raids, going to war…”

“By the Gods, little shark-“

“I would definitely be the best shieldmaiden and that’s how we would meet.”

And thanks to Freyja, Ivar finally looked interested in what you were saying, other than focusing on the pain or his snarky remarks.

“That’s how we would meet?” he repeated and you nodded, sitting up straight.

“Because think about it, Ivar. One day, I come back from a raid, all bloody everywhere-“

“Because you had no access to water on a ship?”

You hushed him, waving your hands, “Because I am very ruthless and blood does not scare me.”

Ivar pressed his lips together, as if trying to repress a smile and frowned, “Hmm?”

“And I walk into your um- your hut, your blacksmith hut and demand a new sword-“

“What’s wrong with your sword?”

“It’s dull due to the… blood on it.”

“Have you considered wiping the blood and sharpening it?” He commented and you pointed at him,

“See that’s what you tell me and I let that slide because it’s fate and we’re meant to be.”

“Speak for yourself, I do not know if I want to end up with a shieldmaiden who walks into blacksmith huts right after a raid, before food or a bath.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him chuckle.

Finally.

“And when I come back, days later, you present me a new sword and it has my initials on it, and-“

“How do I know your initials?”

“I told you of them.”

“You told me your initials?”

“I told you my name, Ivar!” You exclaimed, “And as you give me the sword, you ask for my hand in marriage.”

“I feel like I should have done that without any sharp objects around-“ he started but was cut off when someone knocked on the door.

“I don’t know how Hvitserk always convinces me to be the one to do this,” Ubbe’s voice carried out inside “What is it with you and waking up late these days?”

“We have been up for hours, Ubbe.”

“Of course you have been.”

You rolled your eyes, “And you may come in, yelling at each other behind doors is not polite.”

Ubbe heaved a deep sigh and opened the door to step inside.

“Come on,” he told Ivar as he pushed the covers off of him and grabbed his crutches more slowly than usual, as if trying to be careful.

“You two could leave here when you wake up, you do realize that?”

“But then we wouldn’t know how we would have met if we were commoners, brother.”

Ubbe looked between you, “What?”

“And Y/N wants me to ask for her hand in marriage with a sword.”

“Ivar, you’re already married.”

“I know,” Ivar said as you smiled at Ubbe, and Ivar leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your head, making your smile widen, “I will see you today, hm?”

You nodded, and wrapping your arms around your knees, still looking at them.

“Why are you asking for her hand in marriage again?”

“Come on, I will tell you.” Ivar said as he walked past Ubbe and Ubbe nodded at you as you waved at him, then closed the door behind him and you fell back on the bed, smiling wide.

Oh well.

Maybe you were learning more than just the language after all.

                                         *

The brothers apparently had decided to gather once more, much to your surprise. Ivar had sent you a guard, telling you to be in the map room in an hour and you had decided to be there a little early, just in case.

They needed to see that you were taking this seriously after all.

As you walked through the empty hall, away from everyone else, you were murmuring yourself a song that you had learned when you were a child, but two very familiar voices discussing made you stop dead on your tracks.

Bjorn. And Hvitserk.

All of the brothers seemed like they had a deal to talk in your language whenever you were present in the room –for which you were grateful- but when it was just them, of course they spoke in their own language.

Which made it much more difficult to eavesdrop.

You frowned slightly, leaning your back on the wall and tried to make sense of what they were saying.

Bjorn sounded like he was scolding him, and Hvitserk kept trying to interrupt him but then Bjorn snapped, his voice like a whip.

They were talking about…

A bridge-

No, a woman.

You wished you could understand why both of them sounded so angry and Bjorn said something about the woman again, and how he should stop, if you weren’t mistaken. You thought for a second, then walked away silently, making sure they couldn’t see or hear you. Soon enough, you reached the end of the hall and turned a corner to see the crowd, then crossed your arms and leaned back to the wall again, waiting patiently.

Couple of minutes later, you saw Bjorn leaving the hall and Hvitserk turned the corner before he made his way to the table to get himself a cup of drink. You rocked back and forth on your heels before you made your way to him, then touched his arm.

He turned around, his frown disappearing almost immediately.

“Y/N,” he said, “Hello.”

“Hello,” You smiled at him, “How are you?”

He shook his head slightly before sipping his drink, “Not great, you?”

“Um- I heard you and Bjorn.”

His hand froze in the air and his eyes widened as he stared at you,

“What?”

You shrugged slightly, “Yes, I was actually walking in-“

“What have you heard?” Hvitserk cut you off for the first time and you shrugged again,

“Is it because she’s a servant?”

Hvitserk blinked a couple of times, “What?”

“You were talking about a lady, it’s your lover, is it not? Bjorn doesn’t approve because she’s a servant?”

He let out a breath, then cleared his throat, as if he was trying to focus, “Uh…yes. Yes- he doesn’t approve.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“To Bjorn? No-“ he shook his head fervently, “No, I can handle him.”

“Really? Because one of my ladies in waiting, she ran off with a stable boy and everyone kept saying it was such a foolish thing, but I heard they were really happy.”

Hvitserk stared at you with a small smile on his face, “Is that right?”

“I think all that matters is your feelings, not anybody’s social status. We can’t choose our birth after all, I’d be a shieldmaiden if we could.”

That seemed to make him chuckle, “A shieldmaiden? You?”

“Why does everyone sound so surprised?” You asked as both of you started walking to the map room, and the guards opened the door for you, “I was telling Ivar the same thing, I would be a great shieldmaiden were I born in Kattegat.”

“I probably gave the same reaction, Hvitserk,” Ivar said as you took your seat beside him, and looked around,

“Where’s Ubbe?”

“He will be here in a moment,” Bjorn said as Hvitserk sat down as well and you cleared your throat, sitting up straighter.

“I checked the list of incomes and I have some ideas, can we talk about them later on?” You asked Ivar who turned his head to look at you,

“Already?”

“Yes, I think we can actually make it not very-“ you started but somebody knocked on the door and opened it.

“My queen, there’s a letter for you.”

“What?” You asked as she approached you to put the letter on the table, and you thought your blood froze in your veins.

Your family crest.

The room fell silent and you stared at the letter, then grabbed Gala’s hand to pull her towards the window to inspect it.

“My queen?”

“Gala, you can’t touch any letter coming from my family, you don’t know what they dipped it in!” You said as you pulled back, seeing no sign of poison on her skin.

“What-“

“You’re alright, don’t worry.” The relief hit you so hard that you felt your head spin “Oh I need to sit down, I just…” You waved a hand in the air, and supported yourself by holding onto the table and Ivar frowned.

“Your people poison letters?”

You nodded slowly, still pressing a hand on your chest and Hvitserk took a look at the letter,

“Will you not open it?”

“My brother would never write me unless something bad happened,” You mumbled, your heart beating in your ears but then you reached out to break the wax seal, then pulled the paper out of the envelope, your eyes skimming the lines to find any kind of code, but there was none.

Only then, you could focus on what the letter was saying.

The beginning was exactly what you would expect him to write, starting with Dear sister, and being condescending in the first paragraph, then talking about Rowan, how sad he was to hear the news, some news about the battle and-

He was coming to Kattegat.

“…I need some fresh air, excuse me.” You managed to say and put the letter on the table before you made your way out of the room. You walked through the Great Hall and stepped outside, the cold weather hitting your skin making you hold your breath for only a moment.

Your brother was coming to Kattegat.

You could feel the anger boiling in the pit of your stomach but that was tainted by the fear running through your veins. You didn’t know why, you just knew you did not want to see him again, not unless you had to.

He would look down on everything in Kattegat. The people, their traditions…

Your traditions.

You could feel the burning in your eyes but you kept your gaze on the people of Kattegat, deep in thought before the sound of Ivar’s crutches pulled you out of your thoughts and he entered your sight, then turned around to lean back to the wooden railings.

“I will probably kill him, if that makes you feel better.”

A nervous laugh you couldn’t stop escaped from your lips and you turned your head to see him better as you wiped at your eyes quickly.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” You said silently and Ivar shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big issue.

“I mean he had it coming.”

“Ivar…”

“Why are you distressed?”

You bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to hurt, then took a shaky breath.

“I don’t want him here.”

“But why not?”

To that, you had no answer to. You only knew that this feeling of weakness and fear was way too familiar, and just when you thought it was gone-

It was back. That sense of dread was back.

“He is very condescending, with everyone and everything,” you said, “And he has always managed to make me feel bad, since we were children.”

A shadow crossed Ivar’s eyes, as if the feeling was familiar to him as well.

“No one will make you feel bad,” his voice was way too low and you gritted your teeth.

“I do not want him to- to belittle anything here. I love it here, and I don’t- he cannot judge anything, he does not have the right to- to judge anything here, my people included and if he even dares to try-“

“Your people?”

You hesitated, “Our people.” You mumbled and he tilted his head, a look of pride crossing his eyes.

“He will not do anything you do not want him to, Y/N.”

A silence fell upon you for only a moment as you clenched your jaw.

“That’s very brave of him, is it not?” You mused out loud, crossing your arms, “Thinking that he can just come here as he wishes.”

“It’s foolish, not brave.”

You nodded, deep in thought, “I’m certain he expects to find me as he remembers.”

Ivar scoffed, “That is not happening,” he commented, “You have been growing feral since you stepped a foot in Kattegat, little shark.”

Your narrowed your eyes slightly, and for some reason a small smile pulled at your lips upon hearing that.

“Well perhaps we should show him then.” You asked, making a smirk flash over his lips.

“And that is what you want?”

It took you only a moment to decide whether it really was or not before you realized you had known the answer to that all along.

Ever since you had stepped a foot in Kattegat.

“Deeply.” You said as you reached up to fix the crown on top of your head, “That’s what my heart desires.”

Special thanks to: @nympha-door-a @theskytraveler @iblogabout-stuff @mamaraptor @vikrone @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @asongofmarvelanddc @not--even-a-real--fan @alicedopey @thorohdamnson @captstefanbrandt @flowers-in-your-hayr @marauderskeeper @badbitsh13 @superwolfchild-fan  @mblaqgi @thescarsweleave @marvelsvalhalla @natalielbeauty @pandalandalopalis @alyssiamarierenee  @bloodyivar  , @eleanorsparkz    @illumminated @itsjoshebelbitch  @vikingalexthedane @hangirl93 @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs  @skadithegoddess   @geekandbooknerd @katalina-from-hellbound  @too-stressed-to-live  @supercarricat @sky-daybreak @athroatfullofglass  @blushingskywalker @little-froggy @girlwhoisfearless @aikeji @part-time-patronus @actuallyazriel  and lovely anons! You are amazing! <3

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 15 - 11

15. Ieva Zasimauskaitė - “When we’re old” Lithuania 2018

[2018 Review here]

~wen wir owld HOOOOOOOOOOOO~

So close to the endgame it’s time to open all of the emotional registers. Much like Hovi, I did not expect to love Ieva as much as I do, however unlike Hovi I had already fully embraced Ieva and “When we’re old” long before rehearsals started.

And for good reason because Ieva fucking disarms me every time without fail. She herself is of course a hilarious, relatably weirdo indie girl, this time in the guise of a Born Again Hindu who ~FELT A COSMIC PRESENCE~ on the stage with her. 😍 Telling the true story of how she overcame depression by falling in love with her hubby. Flanked by holograms that project Ieva’s life dream: to be happy and grow old with the love of her life. All my hopeless romantic triggers are activated by this song. ALL OF THEM.

People are generally divided on Ieva’s voice, but um hello welcome to BorisBubbles. I ranked Nina Kralic and Jana Burcheska hellow-high. I LOVE Ieva’s husky, nasal, ovine, falsetto whine of a voice. It makes “When we’re old” for me. Ieva injects so much vulnerability and authenticity into a song that whenever she performs it, all I can do is sit in silence, tears welling up in my eyes, bleating along with the WHAOHHHHHs. Time truly stands still during “When we’re old” and I’m speechless.

________________________________________________________________

14. Conchita Wurst - “Rise like a phoenix” Austria 2014

You can be damn’ sure the highest ranked powerballad on this list is “Rise like a phoenix”. It isn’t as much as a song as it is an INSTITUTION. 

Which is why, symbollically, “Phoenix” is a very important winner. It’s a plight for overcoming hate, for overcoming bullying, from being yourself in the face and of adversity and rising from the ashes reborn, reinvented, reinvigorated. Its presentation is provocative, yet secondary, putting vocals and song on the foreground. It is rooted in the political zeitgeist of its winners, like most modern winners, obviously, 

however, ask yourself this:

Would “Phoenix” have won if it hadn’t been a great performance of a great song? 

I don’t think it would have. Take away the powerful composition and leave just the politically correct message, and you get Bilal Hassani. Take away the beard and you have, well, a really good song bond theme by a talented vocalist, that probably would’ve finished top ten, if not top five in most years. 

It’s easy to get distracted by Tom’s stick because a “Bearded drag queen” provides a lot of cognitive dissonance, which I personally love because it forces me to think, keeping my mind sharp. The use of a gimmick does NOT cheapen the talent on display here, however. Tom’s delivery of the song is flawless, hitting every note, delivering both ‘feminine’ nuturing comfort and ‘masculine’ strength to his glorious song. He even throws in some small nuggets of fierceness, providing levity, reminding us of Conchita’s drag queen roots

The act is cut from the same professional cloth; it is maybe a tad provocative, but at it’s core it remains dignified and classy, maintaining a moral high ground that instantly sheds a bad light on any hater. You may pull her down, but she’s gonna FLYYYYY.

Conchita Wurst is the best winner of this decade, period. No winning performance is as ironclad, vocally, musically or stagingwise as hers. No other winner has shown as much raw performance talent as she has. No winner has been able to make such a statement while at their core maintaining a high-quality musical standard. No winner has been such a champion of those whose voices are trampled for being different. To use Conchita’s own words after she won: “WE ARE UNITY. AND *WE* ARE UNSTOPPABLE.” 

________________________________________________________________

13. Zlata Ognevich - “Gravity” Ukraine 2013

This is the last female fronted act from 2013, you know what that means: EPIC ENTRANCE TIME 😍

What a beautiful dreamscape. I felt bad ranking Elina Nechayeva in a fairly low 39th place, but honestly, “Gravity” vibes very similarly and does the same things a lot better: Breathtakingly regal woman, a mirage of near-divine grace, stunning visual effects... SIGN ME UP ALREADY. At the core we of course find Zlata, the winner of the Best Human Award in 2013. Zlata’s backstage bits were rife with personality facts that instantly endeared her to me. A praraphrased selection from her infinitely quotable interview gold: ”I PRACTICE BIG VOICE BY HOLDING BREATH UNDERWATER”; “I COME FROM PLACE IT’S CALLED CRIMEA, IS LARGE ::reads from online dictionary:: PEN...EEN...SYOO..LA(?) WITH BIG MOUNTAIN AND LARGE SEA ^_^”; “I LOVE UNICORN IS FAVOURITE ANIMAL”. GODDESS. 😍

Fortunately her overpoweringly loud, yet disarmingly weird personality is also omnipresent during her big screen performance. “Gravity” is a mirage of Disney mojo and Zlata absolutely fucking hits it like A SHTRIKE OF DUNDAR

I don’t think I’ve ever listened to a song that is legit quotable at every interval? There is not a single line in “Gravity” that doesn’t bring out the bedroom karaoke: “IMMA LIIIKA BADDERFLYYYYY.” “NOTHING COMES FROM PRIDE, -*HAYLALE*” “NOW I FEEL NO FEEEEE-AAAAAAR.“

And I’m not even done because Gravity ALSO features an excellent backing choir (the male backing vocalist is incredible). It’s just a perfect example of world music, conjuring three minutes of pure, unicorn-endorsed magic. IMMA LIIIKE A BADDERFLYYYYY. 🦋

________________________________________________________________

12. Juliana Pasha - “It’s all about you” Albania 2010

YUARDAWAN 😀 YUGIMMEDATSAMTINANEED 😀 ITZMI 😀 ENDAMFOLIN 😀

We are at #12, which means we’re at that Olympian milestone where every entity ranked is a fucking supernatural force. In Juliana’s case a forced of pure, unfiltered, streechy harpism. 😍 It is so weird to think that she was the first of Albania’s now iconic ‘Shrieking Boss Hag” archetype because it feels like a alliance older than time, sealed and styled in cuneiform onto a shard of Sumerian pottery, blessed by the Annunaki and then embedded into the muddy banks of the Euphrates. 

Anyway, Juliana earned my HEART once she greeted us with her uncanny-valleyesque diction and cheshire-catesque leering, all YUARDAWAN! and proceeded to throw everything, both vocally and facialexpressionly, into the mix, in ascending degrees of deafening loudness. 😍

With a criminally addictive electronic schlager song too boot! One which, like Zlata features an INCREDIBLE supporting cast in a bangin’ gospel choir, as well as a very generous dollop of ❤ ELECTRONIC VIOLA REALNESS ❤

One of the fave musicians of NaziPope, btw. “It’s all about you” is such a Triumpf of the Shrill. 😍

Anyway, this high quality list of ingredients make for a very replayable ride that never spoils or grows stale, no matter how often I listen to it. Which is actually a lot. I’ve looped “It’s all about you” at countless occasions since 2010, making it perhaps the song on this list that I have to the MOST often. (Or second most because there IS a song I still have to rank that may challenge Juliana for that title.) If that ain’t a hallmark for quality, I don’t know what is. 

________________________________________________________________

11. Koza Mostra ft. Agathonas Iakovidis - “Alcohol is free” Greece 2013

Has life been letting you down? Have you been struck by a financial crisis? Do you no longer know how to continue living. Fear not, because :cracks knuckles: we are about to embark on a MASTERCLASS of unabashed drunken REVELRY:

Um a small disclaimer though. This song has a really really, really, REALLY irresponsible title. DO NOT at any circumstance use alcohol as a coping mechanism, engage in drunk driving or other activities under influence that you may life to regret later, if you live to regret it later. Also don’t drink if you’re underage. Also also, alcohol can cause obesity and cardio-vascular arrest. and cancer, possibly. Drink, but do so RESPONSIBLY. 

HOWEVER, what if this song is... a PSA???😈 An Anti-Crisis PSA that is, lol. A group of folk hipsters literally PARTYING AWAY the misery of the financial crisis in a delightfully self-deprecating fashion is just the pinacle of fun for me and Koza Mostra fucking ROLL with it. Watching them dart out in all wind directions, interacting with each other gives me LIFE.

It’s exactly that sort of industriousness which sets “Alcohol is free” apart from other party songs. There is a LOT of randomness going on in the background and it gives you ZERO time to process all of it, making every rewatch an easter egg hunt.

This approach to staging usually doesn’t work, but here it is actually very intelligent and I’ll explain why: The act places a lot of focus on Agathonas (which it should because he’s the lead singer despite his featured status), but by the same token offers constant distraction by all the Koza Mostra shenanigans in the background...  In other words, it’s an act that forces your attention away from the main event by confusing your senses, requesting all of you concentration keep up with everything that’s going on... which is actually a brilliantly accurate simulation of how 'being drunk’ works.

(btw if you listen closely you can hear the sound of Agathonas tapping his skull lol <3)

So the next time you listen to this song, pour yourself a drink (ONE drink!) sit back and embark on a Waldo-esque hunt to see how many beautiful nuggets you can find hidden in that splendid act, as the upbeat sirtaki madness fills your head with cloudy thoughts. As far as I’m concerned, Koza Mostra have WON the Eurovision Fun Contest. 

EVERYONE RISE AND APPLAUD THE  10 BEST ENTRIES IN THIS DECADE:

From now on, I’ll only include maximum 2 songs per update :o

And in this update we finally say goodbye to Greece, Albania, Ukraine, Austria and Lithuania. Read my thoughts on them, below:

LITHUANIA

Lithuania was hands down the worst country in the 00s and look at their chart now. They are slowly getting their shit together and it shows. Keep on going, darlings!!

AUSTRIA

God Austria are so boring. At least they occasionally provide us with a great entry here or there, but they’re so inconsistent in their entertainment. 2 great - 6 okay - 1 terrible is NOT a great ratio by any means. 

UKRAINE

ALBANIA

Albania are very hit-or-miss, but I really like their presence in Eurovision actually. Like Georgia they entries are so left-field that they are always *interesting* even when they’re not good. Except “Fairytale”. Fuck “Fairytale”.

GREECE

Fuck this decade was ROUGH for Greece. They are a shattered nation and if you think this chart is bad, let me remind you that their best result in the past five contests is 19th place. Same in fact, as San Marino’s highest and lower than the highest placements of Albania, Montenegro, Slovenia, UK, Ireland, North Macedonia,...

[benhardyisdaddy]

the breakup - part 5

MASTERLIST

WARNING: panic attack

Ben!RogerxReader

Word Count: 2,868

(HELLO QUEEN THOTS wlcm to chap 5 i hope u like it and im excited to write chap 6 tbh im gonna make it chaotic just 4 u ILY oh ALSO that gif is what i imagined his smirk to be when he’s talking to roy OK ENJOY)

You just wanted to hurt him. You enjoyed watching his face fall as you walked towards the exit with Roy. Your heart was beating so fast as you walked past him. He had stood up straighter as he stared at you. You looked away and suddenly your legs feel like they could go out from underneath you. You ignore it and continue walking. Mary walks up in front of you and smiles confused.

“Who’s this?” she asks.

“Roy,” he says, holding out his hand. She shakes it and grins.

“I’m Mary. Where are the two of you heading off to?” she asks, looking to you. She notices, even from behind the mask, you look white as a ghost. Your breathing is a bit scattered as you stare into space.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks, worried.

You look up and nod, trying to smile.

“Just need some fresh air.” you say as you continue walking.

You finally exit outside and there’s absolutely no one around. You let go of Roy’s hand and slowly make your way down the steps. Just then you realize that you’re taking in sharp, fast breaths and feel light headed. You clutch at your chest as your heart pounds. Your body begins to go numb as you feel yourself slowly sinking to the ground.  Roy’s hands are on your arms as he helps you sit down. He bends in front of you and asks if you’re okay. He realizes that you can’t catch your breath and are shaking badly. He rushes back inside.

He runs in and looks around frantically. He spots your friend Mary standing by a few men.

“Mary!” he shouts to her. Her and the men all turn their heads to you. She notices the worried expression and the lack of your absence. She darts off towards him. Roger also notices this. Mary runs outside and straight to you. You were still sitting on a step and tears were now streaming down your face. You were gasping and crying. You thought you were going to pass out.

“What’s happening?” shouts Mary. “Y/n? Y/n, it’s okay! Tell me what’s wrong?”

You don’t reply. All you can do is close your eyes, gasp and shake your head. Just then Roger flies outside and is at your side in a second. He places his hands on either side of your face. Your eyes are still closed, but you just know that it’s Roger’s touch.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks again, worried.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Rog says. “It’s happened many times before. Y/n?” he asks.

You slowly open your eyes and look at him.

“Lean forward and put your head between your legs to calm down your breathing, baby. Remember?”

You lean forward and put your head in your hands. It takes several moments, but you finally feel your breathing calm down. Roger is rubbing your back and whispering soothing things to you. You can’t help but cry. You were embarrassed, sad, angry and so many other things. You look up to Roger and your eyes lock again. He reaches his hand up and wipes away some stray tears. His touch makes you shiver.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

Was he talking about the panic attack or your relationship? You turn away from his grasp and go to stand up. John rushes up as he steadies your wobbly legs.

“Deaky, can you please take me home?” you ask.

“I can drive you.” says Rog, hopeful.

“No.” you say fast. “I want John to.”

Roger takes a step back as John guides you to the limo in the corner. He opens up the door and helps you slide in. He closes the door and you stare out, watching Rog through the tinted windows. Brian pats him on the shoulder as they all turn to walk back inside. Except Rog. He stands there, watching you until you’re out of sight.

_____________________________________

It felt like forever until you finally arrived back home. John helped you out of the limo and up to your apartment. The two of you walk in and you kick off your heels. You exhale and turn to face him. He sadly smiles.

“Thank you, Deaky.” you say, leaning in to hug him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, worried.

You lean away and nod.

“I’ll be okay after I change.” you say, making him laugh.

“Call us if you need anything, okay?” he asks as he opens the door. “Oh, and y/n,” he says, turning to face you. “He really does love you.”

You say nothing as you process what he had just said. He sadly smiles once more and shuts the door behind him. As soon as the door closes, you sob. You fall to the floor and bring your knees up to your chest. All of this was too much. He’s been more focused on you since this breakup than his own work. Work! Your head shoots up as you remember that you have five days to complete your painting.

You jump up and rush to change into an old t shirt and shorts. You throw your hair up and take off that ridiculous mask. You grab your easel and paints and set everything up just the way you like it. You grab your stool and sit down. You stare at the blank canvas and that’s exactly how you feel: blank. You swirl your brush in a color and begin swiping it all over. You dip it into another and do the same. You keep painting for what seems like an eternity. 

You bite your lip as you try to get it perfect. You let all of the anger inside of you come out onto the canvas. You finally finish and step back. The image was of a girl who resembles you. There are black and red chaotic lines running across the top of her head. They resemble the bottled up anxieties that she was letting take over her life. It represented everything you were feeling. You smile at your painting and yawn. It was getting late.

You wash up and decide to lay down. You're not sure when you eventually fall asleep, but you do. You wake up to a text message from a number you don’t know.

Hey, you! How are you feeling? This is Roy from the masquerade, BTW. - R

Roy! You had completely forgotten about him last night. You put your hands over you face and groan. You were so embarrassed. Just then you get another text.

Oh, um, Mary gave me your number. In case if you were wondering if I had stalked you, because yes. Yes I have. - R

You laugh at the message and text back.

I totally knew you looked like the stalking type. Oh well, too late. - Y/n

Yes, too late. Now you definitely have to eat dinner with me tonight. Say, 7 O’clock? - R

You bite your lip and smirk. Okay good. He didn’t think you’re a complete loser like you thought he did.

7 sounds wonderful. Maybe Mary can send you my address as well. ;) - Y/n

Already done. ;) Can’t wait to see you. - R

You throw your phone down and stand up. You throw on your robe and walk out of your room. Roger was sitting on the couch, cross legged as he sipped on some tea. You pause and look at him.

“Thank you,” you say. He says nothing. “For last night. For helping me.”

Rog slowly nods and gives you a quick smile, before regaining his attention to the TV show in front of him. You awkwardly smile back and head to the kitchen. You spot a cup of tea already waiting for you on the counter. You look up to Rog and your heart falls. No matter how hurt or angry he was at you, he always made sure to take care of you.

“I like the painting.” he says, not looking away from the tv. “Very sad.” he says with a fake chuckle.

“Thank you,” you say confidently. “I’m submitting it to a show downtown in a few days for a big artist.”

He finally looks at you, an eyebrow raising up.

“Who?” he asks, genuinely excited for you.

“Oh, so you suddenly care about my stupid job?” you ask, walking back to your room, leaving the tea.

_________________________________

The rest of the day had been quiet around the home. You and Rog barely said another word to each other for the remaining of the day. You two stole quick glances at one another, but that was all. He needed clothes and stuff from your room, but after he got them, he remained in the living room on the couch.

When the boys had arrived at your place, it was nearing 7. You swipe on a gloss on your lips and smack them together. You were in a long, flowy black dress, that revealed a large portion of your back. Your hair was curled as you tossed it behind your shoulders. You smile at yourself in the mirror and search for your pair of heels when a sudden loud knock is heard at your front door. Your eyes opened wide.

In the other room, Roger looks at the door confused. The boys all look around and shrug. Rog walks over and slowly opens it. A man dressed nice suit stands before him with a confused smile.

“Oh, hi. Um, does y/n live here? This was the address I was given.”

Rog’s heart drops. You hadn’t said anything about going out with anyone tonight. A date? All of a sudden the guy’s face seems familiar.

“You were that lad at the party.” he states.

The guy nods and laughs. “That was me.”

Roger narrows his eyes and fake smiles. “You were leaving with y/n.”

The boys all got quiet behind Roger as the guy awkwardly switches his stance.

“Oh, uh-” says Roy, as you walk up.

“Roy!” you say, nudging Roger out of the way to hug him. His eyes open wide at your outfit.

“Wow. You look beautiful!” he says holding your hand, looking you up and down.

“She always does.” murmurs Rog. You give him a quick glance and look back to Roy smiling.

“You look very lovely as well.” you say. Just then someone behind you clears their throat. You turn and all of the boys are smiling at you.

“Oh, right! Roy, this is Brian, John and Freddie. My best friends.” They all beam at your warm introduction. Then you look to Roger and your smile drops.

“And this is Roger.” you say fast.

“Her boyfriend.” he says, with a smug smile.

“Ex boyfriend.” You glare your eyes at him. Roy looks between the two of you.

“Do you… live together?” he asks. The two of you look to him.

“He/she won’t get out.” you both say at the same exact same time. You roll your eyes.

“Anyways, are you ready?” you ask, smiling.

“Yes! So I was thinking seafood for dinner?” he asks.

“She’s allergic.” says Roger. You look to him and give him a warning look.

“Oh… Um, then how about a nice steak restaurant I know.”

“She hates steak.” chimes in Roger again. You close your eyes and exhale, but you can almost feel Roger’s smirk.

“Um… Italian?” asks Roy, feeling a little helpless. Your head shoots up and you smile. You look to Roger.

“I love Italian.” you say proudly, still looking at Rog. He rolls his eyes and looks away. You grab Roy’s hand and step into the hallway. You look over to Rog and sweetly smile.

“Don’t wait up for me.” 

You walk away, but not before you notice Rog’s jaw tightening at your words. You smirk to yourself, but your heart slightly ached.  

_____________________________________

Your date with Roy had been amazing. He took you to a very fancy and expensive Italian restaurant. He ordered you your favorite wine. You ate and laughed. He ordered dessert that you two shared. When you left the restaurant the two of you walked through a little park, hand in hand, and just talked. You talked about everything. Your job, your interests, and even Roger.

“So he’s your ex?” he asks. You exhale.

“Yes, we are no longer together.” you say.

“But he lives with you?”

You nod. “Both of our names are on the lease and we’re too stubborn to be the first person to go.”

“How long were you together?” he asks.

You look away and half smile.

 “Seven years.” 

All you can think about is the very first time you met Roger.

“Her,” he says, looking across the room.

“The y/h/c?” asks Bri.

He nods and smiles.

“I want her.” He doesn't take his eyes off of you. You’re laughing with your good friend Mary and he melts at your smile.

“Go talk to her, darling.” says Fred.

Roger’s heart skips a beat. “Talk to her?! Are you joking? Look at her!”

They all look back to you and this time your eyes were on his. You half smiled and looked away as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Mary looks over to the boys and smirks. She grabs your hand and drags you with her to walk over to them, even tho you were begging her not to. You walk up and look to Rog and smile.

“Hello.” says Fred, looking at Mary. She smirks back.

“Hello. I saw you looking at my friend here.” she says, looking to Roger.

Your cheeks turn red as you whisper her name harshly. Roger looks to you and he looks equally as embarrassed.

“Oh, uh…” he goes to say.

“Do you fancy her?” she asks. Where was this sudden burst of confidence coming from?

“I mean… I think she’s beautiful.” he says, looking to you.

“It’s as if his flirting powers have vanished.” jokes Deaky.

“I think you’re his kryptonite.” says Bri.

“Yeah, no witty pick up line? No gross joke?” asks Fred.

“Oh, piss off.” he says to them all. You laugh which makes him smile.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks you.

You look to Mary then back to him.

“Oh, I don’t know how to dance.” you say, blushing.

“Neither do I,” he says holding out a hand for you, smirking. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

You’re snapped back to reality when you realize that you were now standing in front of your building. You turn to face Roy and he smiles at you.

“I had an amazing time. Maybe we can do it again soon?” he asks, reaching for your hand. You smile and nod.

“I would like that.” you say. He smiles at your answer and slowly leans in to kiss you. You suddenly panic and move your face to the side just a bit and lean up to kiss him on the cheek instead. He’s taken back by this and freezes for a second.

“Thank you for tonight.” you say fast. “Goodnight, Roy.” And with that you scurry inside the building. You put your hand to your chest and take in a deep breath.You walk up to your door and unlock it. You walk in and Roger is in the kitchen, doing the dishes. You freeze at the sight of him. He looks to you and pauses.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back until late.” he says, looking away.

You go to say something, but your phone goes off. You quickly pull it from your purse. Flynn is calling you.

“Hello?”

“So I have some news.” he says immediately. Your heart sinks. “Philip has pushed his art show back. To tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen. You look over to your painting that’s still on the easel by the window.

“Tomorrow?!” you ask.

“Yes, tomorrow, but I know you can come up with something!” he says.

“I mean, I already finished a piece for it. I just didn’t know if it’s exactly what I wanted to use.”

“Perfect!” he yells. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. So be at the downtown plaza at 6 O’clock sharp, okay?” he asks.

“Okay. See you then.” you say as you hang up. You stare at your phone and smile. Tomorrow. Philip Chartier. Your biggest role model.

“What’s tomorrow?” asks Rog, wiping his hands off. You had almost forgot he was standing there.

“It’s another art show. For Philip Chartier. He saw my work at the last show and wanted me to create a piece for him.” you say smiling.

Roger’s eyes light up. “Well, that’s amazing, y/n.” he says calmly, yet hopeful. You smile.

“It’s at the downtown plaza at 6. You can… You can go if you want?” you say.

“Oh, um,” he says, shifting. “We have practice tomorrow around then…”

You nod and fake smile. You turn to walk to your room. You felt dumb for expecting him to actually say yes.

“I’ll be there.” he says, looking at you.

You turn around and he lightly smiles. You stare at him and smile back. You slowly turn and walk into your room. Maybe this time he will keep his promise.

Maybe.

Tag List: @sweetlygwilym @rogerinascigarette @basics-andthesimplelife @through-faith @myprincesoftheuniverse @scoobydoosbooty @beanut-putter @pg-taylor-fltchr @shadycupcakefox @loudxxstar @zcars777 @perriwiinkle @amostpeculiarmademoisellerp @lovethis-lovethat @queen-darlin

[slutfordeacy-mazello]

Word Count: 3,466 Note: An anon wanted anything deacy and I was already writing this,,,about to scrap it, but i was like nah i can just fix it up uwu ((literally every anon wants joe or deacy things tho lmao it’s cool I love them)) anyways i hope u enjoy owo

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Freddie laughed.

“What? Why would I be joking?” You frowned.

“John. John Deacon. Deacy?”

“Yes? What of it?” You furrowed your brows.

“He just doesn’t seem like your type, darling. You’ve only ever dated bad boys and well…you’ve met John. He’s the complete opposite.” Freddie explained.

“That’s a good thing! Name one guy I’ve dated that wasn’t abusive in one way or another.” You huffed. “And besides, I think he would be really good for me. I need to get myself back on track.”

“Well…you two would be a good couple. Alright. I’ll help you out. Not like I wouldn’t have anyway.” He agreed.

“Oh my God, thank you, Fred. I love you!”

“I know, I know. I’m the greatest.”

You got up and hugged him tightly, when suddenly he gasped and pushed you away, wide-eyed.

“Darling, I have the perfect idea! Last minute party!” He exclaimed. “This is going to be so perfect, and who else to be your matchmaker none other than your nearest and dearest friend.”

“Oh, Fred, you are such a drama queen.” You smiled. “And how exactly are you going to plan this in such a short notice?”

“Leave it to me, love, I’ll have you and John hooked up in no time.”

Later that afternoon, after Freddie had Paul (blegh) invite a few people, Roger had gathered a few more, mainly groupies, from bars and a few little venues he hit, which weren’t very full midday. The band was staying in a large hotel suite, it was basically two different mini apartments conjoined by a little closet. It was very odd to have in a suite, especially considering how elegant it all was and then…there’s a little, musty crawl space that conjoins to huge foyers. You, Freddie, and Brian were staying in one side, whereas John and Roger were staying in the other. You were hoping that after tonight, Brian or Fred would trade with Deacy. He’s actually told you that he doesn’t like sharing a hotel with Roger because “they just don’t make the walls thick enough”. A new girl every night gets quite annoying. While Roger, Brian, and Deacy were out getting party refreshments, you and Freddie were cleaning the conjoined rooms even more so than room service did. You stumbled into John’s room to “clean”, but you were really just snooping. You crept in and turned on the light, just to reveal the neatest room out of the 5 of you. His bed was made like no ones ever slept in it and the only clutter was the scattered pieces of loose-leaf paper and notebooks, which were also neatly stacked and set aside to the corner of the nightstand. You spun around and peered out of the doorway to check the area and see if the coast is clear. You crept back over towards his bed There was scribbled over drawing of a person, it wasn’t very good, but at the very least you could tell it was a silhouette of a female.

‘I didn’t know John liked drawing.’ You thought.

Next to it, you saw a little note in the corner of the tattered piece of paper that said “for my love” but there was a jagged line drawn through it. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head in shock as you quickly and hectically put everything back the way you found it. Speeding out of the room, you found Freddie in the kitchen wiping down the table, and slapped the rag out of his hand.

“What the hell—“

“Freddie! Has John told you about a song he’s been working on recently?” You sputtered.

“Um, not that I can recall, why?”

“Because I just went to clean his room and I saw something—possibly a song—that he had been writing!” You frantically screamed. “It said something like…’for my love’ but it was all scratched out!”

Freddie pressed his fingers to his lips and began to think.

“Fred—“

He shushed you and sank back into deep thought.

“Okay, okay, well…if it’s about you then that’s a very good sign, don’t you think?”

“Freddie!”

“Look, you can’t control this type of thing! I may be the best you can get but I’m not Jesus. You just have to try hard and hope for the best.”

You sighed and groaned, throwing your face in your hands. “You are NO help.”

“Oh, don’t act like that. Deacy tells you everything. If he hasn’t told you about him liking someone then it’s most likely you, dear.” He persuaded. You looked up and nodded your head.

“Okay…yeah. Yeah, you’re right, Fred. We tell each other everything.”

“I know, darling.” He agreed. “Now, do you think this place is clean enough?”

“Yeah, we did a pretty good job.” You sniffled and laughed. Freddie clapped his hands and rose from the dining room chair.

“Then, (Y/N), if you’ll come with me.” He smirked. “We have a makeover to do.”

Freddie pulled you by your hand, leading you into his room. He swung his door open and pushed your shoulders down, making you plop into a suede armchair with accessories and articles of clothing draping off of it. You looked and sighed,

“Fred, you didn’t even clean your room, what the hell?”

“Well it’s not like the whole party is going to take place in here.” He sassily

“You made me clean every other room!”

“Irrelevant. Close your eyes I’m doing your makeup.” He snapped.

You scoffed. “Freddie, I can do it myself.”

“Not like I can, darling. Now hush, I’m trying to make sense of your emotional aura.”

“What?”

“I’m feeling like you’re a brights type.”

Freddie roughly powdered on the pastel blue colored shadow, and glided a thin brush along your upper lash line and mid eyelid. During the seventies the twiggy look was very pronounced in makeup trends. The vivid color eyeshadow, usually a primary, the outrageous lash length, and not to forget the eyeliner. The sharp cat eye connected to the slick black line across your lid reaching your tear duct. Freddie patted your cheeks and chuckled.

“Beautiful, love!” He exclaimed, pinching his fingers together and outwardly throwing them along with his whole arm after giving them a loud exaggerated kiss.

“You are outrageous, Freddie.”

He rolled his eyes and started playing with your hair.

“(Y/N), do you have a curler with you?”

“Yeah, do you want me to grab it?”

“No, no, I can go get it. You just sit tight I’ll be right back.”

Freddie wandered off into your bedroom. He eyed the curling wand sitting on your dresser next to the clutter of makeup and perfumes. Aside from all the irrelevant things, he was looking to see if you had something of much more personal value. A diary perhaps. Freddie had his plan all worked out in his head, and this was the perfect time to get any dirt he could before he carried on.

“Freddie? What are you doing?” You shouted from the other room.

He was on his hands and knees with his head under your bed. When you startled him, he jolted up and knocked his head on the mattress frame.

“Bitch.” He hissed under his breath at the pain.  “J-just looking for your thingy, (Y/N)!”

“Okay, well while you’re in there open up my suitcase and find something for me!”

He popped up and unzipped your bags, shuffling through your neatly organized clothing stash. Rifling through bell bottoms, fringe tops, bandeaus, and just about every other trend that’s been set, broken, or reincarnated. Freddie was getting irritated that he wasn’t the one to pack your suitcase with clothes he thought were suitable until he pulled out the perfect little one-piece. It held a faded, sparkly light rose hue. It was a sleeveless high neck, with a key hole right above where your cleavage would be. The pant legs were clingy until the top of the knee, then they flared out to cover the wearers feet. Freddie rushed back in with a huge grin on his face.

“What took you so long?” You asked.

“Well, darling, if you told me you had this thing lying around I wouldn’t have had to dig for so long. Now go change.” He threw the jumpsuit on your lap and shooed you out, plugging in the wand.

You crept into the bathroom and stripped down. You slid the outfit over your thighs and sighed to yourself. The sequined, velvety, spandex jumper really clung to your skin. You were worried it was going to be a little too much for this type of party.

“You can do this, (Y/N).” You whispered. “It’s just John. Same ol’ John you’ve been friends with this past year. Same ol’ John you sing with on stage. Same ol’ John.” You inhaled deeply and walked out.

“Okay, how does it look?” You asked worriedly as you slowly pushed the bedroom door open.

“Give me a spin, darling.” Freddie smiled with a twirl of his finger. You awkwardly rotated with a little smile on your face, trying to choke back the laughter. He walked over to you and peered around you.

“Yeah. This will work.”

“What?”

“Darling, your ass is huge in this thing.” He chuckled. You double-took in the mirror and saw that your hips looked much wider than usual. You quickly turned to the side to see that your ass was really popping out of that suede elastic.

“Wow, it never looks like that. I am flat as a board this thing is amazing!”

“And it would be even better on Deacy’s bedroom floor.” Freddie smirked, plopping you back into the chair.

~~~~

After a while, you and Freddie were sitting in his room waiting for the party to start. Brian and John had already gotten back from the stores and bars to set up for the party. From the other room, you heard the door slam shut and a loud greeting escape Roger’s mouth through the thin walls. An array of scattered female chatter could be heard in response and you sighed.

“Ten pounds says Roger’s gonna get laid by midnight?” You smiled.

“20 says 10:30.” Freddie gambled.

“You’re on, Mercury.” You shook hands and turned your heads to a knock on the bedroom door.

“It’s Bri, are you decent?”

“Yes, Brian.” You laughed. He opened the door and saw that you were all done-up.

“Wow, you look different. I’ve never seen you with that much on—“

“—And she looks hot as hell!” Freddie interrupted, snapping at Brian.

You held your hand out to Freddie.

“It’s fine, Bri. I knew what you meant.” You nodded. “Has that party started yet?”

“Yeah, there’s like 20 people here. I was actually coming in here to get you two.”

Just from the other room, you heard a bottle shatter. Brian poked his head out from the open door frame.

“And there’s Roger, already making a mess, I assume.” Freddie raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah…well, you two need to come out soon, you’re missing the whole thing.” He insisted as he shut the door.

“Well, that’s our cue, c’mon, (Y/N).” Freddie sighed as he stood up and brushed himself off. He grabbed a mystery bottle that he kept in his suitcase and shook it up.

“What? What is— anyways…” You sighed and looked down. “I don’t think I can do it, Fred, I’m gonna put normal clothes on and woo John another time.” You cowered.

“Hell no! We did so much, darling, you can’t puss out now! Plus Brian already saw you dressed up it would be weird if you suddenly weren’t wearing it!”

The silence grew a bit. You had slunk into your guilt of wanting to wuss out. Freddie had gone through all this trouble to set you two up. He planned a last minute party, he helped you clean the entire hotel room, and he even got you all dressed up so you can be happy.

“Fred, punch me in the face I feel light headed.”

“I’m about too! Put your big boy pants on, man up, and get your shit together!” He shouted as he twisted you around and slapped your ass as hard as he could.

“Ow!”

“Now let’s go out there and get you some Deacy.” He tightly gripped your shoulders.

You let out a loud exhale as you turned the doorknob, with Fred kicking it open as dramatically as possible from behind you. You started down the long corridor, at the end you could see the shadows of people dancing and standing around. Once you turned a corner your eyes went straight to John. He, of course was talking to a few other women, who were showing a bit more skin than you, and he was laughing along to whatever they were saying and looked genuinely happy. You felt your stomach rise and sink, like you were on a boat,  and went to back up when Freddie bumped square into you and grabbed your arm. You were already embarrassed enough, but Freddie had to draw as much attention to himself as possible, and what a better way to do that than scream,

“Don’t worry, darlings! The party has just arrived!” As he popped open the cork to the unlabeled, shaken up mystery bottle, which sprayed all over the hotels living room onto you and quite a few other party patrons. Everyone cheered as he forced you to come with him to socialize. As he pulled you through the crowd, you locked eyes with John to which you immediately awkwardly smiled at him and waved. You jokingly mouthed ‘help me’. He winked in response and held up his index finger.

“I’m sorry, ladies, but could you excuse me for a second? My friends have finally decided to join the party.” He laughed as he separated himself from the few groupies who were crowding him.

“Hello, (Y/N), Freddie, haven’t seen you two all day.”

“That’s because we were cleaning up after you grubby boys and getting ready, right, (Y/N)?” You turned your head towards Fred and glared at him. That’s a terrible way to help someone seduce another person, calling the flirtee grubby and throwing the flirter under the bus like that? Very very uncool, Fred. You turned your head back around and lightly smiled.

“Yeah, we spent a long time getting ready, Freddie couldn’t find anything to wear and it became this big ordeal. You know how Freddie can be.”

John laughed. Good sign.

“Yeah, well at least you’re—er— you two are out here now.” He stuttered. Another good sign.

The awkward silence grew as fast as the light pink hue across your cheeks from a spontaneous embarrassment eruption.

“Sit tight, you two, I’m getting booze.” Freddie sighed as he walked away, immediately screaming someone’s name and rushing towards them.

“Well, we won’t get those drinks for a while.” John chuckled. You couldn’t help yourself but to burst out into a light laughter. John looked pretty satisfied with himself too.

“So, have you been working on any songs?” You pondered. It was rhetorical, being the cheeky little thing you were, knowing that John rather enjoyed writing songs. You also knew of the scattered papers resting on his nightstand. A possible song to a woman, perhaps.

“Um, no actually. Just messing around with the bass, you know?” He chatted. This small talk was getting you nowhere. Freddie was a little bitch for leaving you in the dust like that to hang out with some groupie he probably doesn’t even know. You nodded your head and directed your pupils downward while John put his hands in his pockets. Just then, think of the devil, Freddie marched back with three glasses, one being a wine glass filled to the brim with red wine. Very sophisticated of you, Fred. Another being a scotch glass filled with something clear that could only be straight vodka or gin, and the last one was another wine glass, sensibly poured, but also wasn’t wine…no telling what could be in there though. He squeezed through a long line of people before he reached you two. John scooted a little closer to you, watching the absolute horror show of Freddie basically juggling three full glasses of alcohol as you two were snickering. Making eye contact with you as he neared, he proffered

“Here you go, darlings.”

He handed John the scotch glass, and you the full glass of wine. He smiled at you and turned to John.

“She likes to keep things classy.”

“Thank you Freddie, for this full glass of…”

“It’s port!” He chimed in. “Rich, dark, and very stain-ful.” He smiled cheekily. He started to walk away as you leaned in to take a sip, being careful not to spill any. Freddie took in a deep sigh and slammed his hip into your ass, sending the contents of the full wine glass onto Johns shirt. You held your hand to your mouth and tried to speak but nothing could come out.

“Oh, (Y/N)! You clumsy bitch! Haha!” Freddie chuckled.

“Coming through, darlings! Two hot, drunk bitches!” He started pushing you two through the crowded hotel room until you reached the coat closet in the front of the conjoined rooms, where he pushed you two into.

“I’ll be out here if you need me!” Freddie shouted. You heard a clatter and something bang against the door. As John extended his arm upward to turn on the little light, you sighed and palmed your face.

“John, I am so sorry about your shirt, I—“

“Oh, no no no. It wasn’t your fault, I know, it’s really quite alright.” He affirmed. “I dont even like this shirt that much anyways, now I have a reason to throw it out.”

“John, you don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better about it.” You reached around him and snatched something off a hanger, with no mind to what it was, and began dabbing his shirt with the mystery article. To no avail of removing or at the very least lightening the stain, you stopped.

“Really! It’s okay, (Y/N).”

You stopped for a second. It got quiet.

“John, we’re still really great friends, right?”

“Of course.”

“And I can tell you anything?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe…I don’t know I’m scared?” You shrugged and turned around. “It’s honestly stupid and embarrassing when I say it out loud, but I’m just kind of…scared.”

“What’s so scary about it?” He inquired.

“I don’t know, the outcome? Maybe? If I was a fortune teller this would all just be so much easier!” You chuckled. “Well, there’s no point in not telling you now so I’m just gonna say it.” You huffed. You twisted back around and rolled your eyes. “John, I like you. I like you a lot.”

“Well—“

“And I know that’s a lot to take in, especially under these circumstances…”

“I—“

“And I feel like you’ll think this whole thing is just a big set up and I mean technically—“

“(Y/N). You worry too much.” He consoled. “I like you a lot too, I’ve had this huge crush on you since Freddie introduced you to us. Since the first time we sang together in that empty studio. Since the first night we stayed up outside and got absolutely shit faced and talked for hours. And besides, I knew. Freddie helped me set this thing up actually. I knew it was a long shot, but it worked and I didn’t even have to—“

“Wait what? Freddie was helping me out. He has been since this morning.”

“Really? Darling this has been a two-day operation for me. Freddie even saw this sitting out and made me it in my pocket.” John informed, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “Uh, I was actually planning on telling you earlier, but I was nervous and then Freddie brought this up.”

You took the paper out of his hand and studied it intently. You felt an involuntary smile creeping up on you while reading it, knowing it was about you from someone you love so much.

You two stood in that dingy little closet, that possibly hasn’t been used in months, that was musty and cramped, and stared at each other. You were at a loss for words with a shit eating grin plastered across your face.

“What’s that face for?” John smiled.

“You are too adorable.” You blushed. You grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers.  From outside of the closet, you heard shuffling and a loud bang. The door swung open and Freddie was outside. He shouted and expressed just how excited he was to have played Cupid by forcing himself into the little mini-room and hugging you two tightly.

“I just knew I could get you two together! I’m so happy for us!”

[rainbow-squirrels-7]

!!ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD!! Since I did it last year with Infinity War and now that I’ve seen Endgame twice here are my ramblings:

But before we begin apparently I accidentally predicted Endgame’s title during my IW ramblings and then completely forgot about it...

-so like that friggin beginning tho poor Clint like the entire movie. Agreeing with a favorite YouTube movie reviewer of mine, this was really Clint’s shining movie despite his uh- downward turn for a bit there -but on the bright side I’m glad his older kids’ names are canon now; like legit I thought those (Cooper and Lila) were made up by the fanfictioneers. Maybe they were and the writers were like ‘huh okay less work for us- yoink’ -then Nebula and Stark playing table football that was adorable. The shiny paper reminded me of that one Chris Hemsworth gif you know the one of him making a face at his reflection? -and heck yes Carol coming in hot to save the day what a legend -woohoo go get Thanos time -and he’s just in a frickin farm in a T-shirt (a T-SHIRT?!?) collecting some fruits and starting a new YouTube cooking channel -“what’s up half of the universe today we’re making weird bumpy fruit stew” -but heck yeah Thor cut off that guy’s head -and then just like whoa five years later. I usually can’t stand time jumps but it’s alright. It really gives a perspective of ‘yeah the world isn’t better with half its population. Everyone’s so sad’ -good job of Steve starting a therapy group tho even if he doesn’t take his own advice -I can’t believe a rat saved Scott talk about lucky -unless that rat was actually Loki -just sayin -and the bike kid: “wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy” -I forget how old Cassie was in Antman and the Wasp but +5 years to that I guess. She looks a bit too old to me but what do I know. I’m very glad she didn’t disappear though cuz I love Scott very much and I don’t want him to go through that -tbh Scott saved everyone cuz he had the time travel idea in the first place. I love an optimistic boy -UHBUHH I HAVENT TALKED ABOUT CAROL’S HAIRCUT YET UM HECK YEAH -it’s very good I’m very gay -anyway -I liked Nebula’s prominence in this movie she’s growing on me but of course it doesn’t take a lot on account of me loving robots (cyborgs?) so much -getting the band back together! -baby Morgan Stark/Potts was Very Good -ohmygod Thor -so chub -I was annoyed being without beefy Thor the first time, but rewatching it though I thought his Look was maybe not only reflecting his depression (cuz yeah) but maybe mythological Thor? Like I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall but maybe in actual Norse myth Thor was (well, actually a redhead) that chub/beef combo but he did have the fluffier beard that MCU Thor had this time. Idk, like I said- spaghetti -Valkyrie’s back! Love her -they call her that though? Isn’t that what she is- like her job? Does she not have a name? Could have sworn it was Brunhilda or something -and Korg and the sharp bug guy are back too! Love them -friggin playing Fortnite -jokes aside though I do love that deep look into Thor’s guilt throughout the whole movie. Like he thought killing Thanos would just make everything better but it didn’t and just couldn’t deal and would rather drink to forget -Clint’s guilt was also interesting, like showing that ‘oh god he could really go there, he could get this bad given the circumstance’ -just Blade Runner-ing all around Tokyo -I haven’t seen Blade Runner but it has neon lights and rain right? -but yeah I do like the “the Snap took away good people and bad people but like it could have just took bad people and since it didn’t I’ll have to instead” -sad boy -he was very uh ‘Magnus rushes in’ if you will, during this movie. Not caring for a lot of it if he lived or died cuz he’d lost so much -god he was good in this movie -anyway -I also called the time travel:

-it still doesn’t completely make sense to me though? Like time travel is confusing enough but adding in a multiverse just makes it even more so -I loved the revisiting the old movies! -low key wanted an Age of Ultron revisit so we could have OMG we could have seen Pietro again -still on the #bringbackpietromaximoff train guys -but anyway we could have seen some good Wanda scenes and also my boy Vision again -but it did make more sense to get the three in NY at the same time -it was real cool to see the bald wizard lady (Minerva from TAZ Amnesty) defending the wizard building during 2012 Avengers- like that is so believable and now we can watch 2012 Avengers and be like “oh hey the wizards were there” -“that is America’s a**” I love how much Scott hero-worships Steve like we saw that in Civil War and yes it’s so funny and I love it its great -Steve vs Steve fight?? Great -“I can do this all day.” “Yeah yeah I know.” -And again, we can totally watch 2012 Avengers again and be like ‘yes meeting with Secretary Pierce and the other Shield guys- this is totally believable, it’s exactly what would have happened we just didn’t see it.’ -the elevator scene! I thought for sure Steve was gonna do the “now before we begin does anyone want to get out” but the “hail hydra” was just as good -“they’re hydra but we don’t know that yet” “they Look like bad guys!!” -and I guess Loki using the Tesseract to escape during that scene is setup for a... tv show? He’s gonna be wreaking havoc through time and space I guess?? Glad he’s back though -anyway revisiting more movies -friggin Guardians 1 -Quill singing Come and Get Your Love really badly cuz all we heard was the actual song and OhmyGOD that was hilarious -I’m glad Rhodey and Nebula got on a team cuz they can be prosthetic buddies -but did Nebula just not tell Clint and Nat that one of them would have to die for the Soul Stone? Or did they know and just not wanna talk about it till it came up? -TBH I though the ‘lose someone you love for the stone’ requirement would have been filled by both Clint and Nat already cuz Clint could have been like “um my dude do you even know how much I’ve lost already??” -apparently not though -Nat’s hair was great for the time travel parts I liked the red fade to white -though it was a sad and intense moment with Clint and Nat deciding who of them had to die it was also sweet cuz you can see how much they care for each other -and I was- well not glad but I really wanted Clint to see his family again -not that The Avengers weren’t his family -that friggin line “did she have family?” “Yeah. Us.” GOD -and then there’s that whole rigamarole with double Nebulas and oh Gamora’s back too -again time travel/the whole multiverse thing apparently doesn’t make sense to me so I’m just gonna gloss over it as much as I can until I can get more into it later -anyway the other time travel to the 1950s! -cool callback to Winter Soldier like you could see Zola going into the bunker -like So many people were there at the Camp Lehigh (idk if that’s how it’s spelled) like Everybody was there -good good moments with Tony and his dad -I thought it would have been cool for Tony to have given his dad the inspiration for his own name but oh well. Maybe that wouldn’t have even worked with time travel and all -Steve’s prank call to Hank Pym that was funny “um the box is glowing” -but oh geez the scene where Steve finds Peggy oh god when he goes in the room with her name on the door my roommate and I were watching it together the first time I saw it and both of us went “ohhhhhhh oh nooooooo” -cuz like that’s the first time he’s seen her since he went in the ice! Or at least seen her how he remembers and not old in Civil War hhhhhhhh GOD -I think seeing her there was a factor in his decision later but I’ll get to that later this is a long heck movie -oh and the OG human Jarvis showed up! I like him, I only saw season 1 of Peggy’s show but I remember liking him a lot -but yeah back to the present unless- well I’m sure I missed something -OH FRICK THOR’S BIT -I can’t Believe they went back to The Dark World -tbh I actually like The Dark World I think it’s a good movie but it’s not universally liked -callback to the scene with Loki tossing the cup in the air ahaha that one was always good -so if they had Rocket’s pokey device during that movie the whole plot of that movie could have been avoided? -anyway um Frigga?? What a queen. Literally -I loved “I was raised by witches I can see with more than my eyes” -she’s really what Thor needed there but god the “she dies today” poor boy -she’s so good though -I loved that ‘measure of a hero is being who you are not who you’re supposed to be’ Yes -and the “I’m still worthy!!!!” Thor needed a win -“eat a salad!” -Now back to the present -Stark-Tech can apparently channel Infinity Stones? And doesn’t need a special heart of a dying star and giant dwarfs to forge a special gauntlet um okay -“what do I have flowing through my veins right now?” “Cheese whiz?” -Bruce is so good though so strong I loved the “I was made for this” -so sweet when Laura called Clint! Yes! Everyone’s really back! -and double Nebula just Had to ruin everything tho -before I get into the final battle- I wonder how much of the time travel scenes were reused from old footage and how much was reshoots with the same actors/costumes/sets? -anyway -um rude blowing up the compound -and god the water scenes were so stressful the first time. Water/specifically-about-to-drown scenes always freak me out. Also trapped under ice and squished under something scenes -Clint finding the gauntlet and getting away from Thanos’ cronies! Every time anyone was running with the gauntlet all I could think of was that one goof from TAZ Balance in Petals to the Metal- Taako’s “Grab the Gauntlet and don’t look back” friggin

-also when Steve, Thor, and Tony all go to confront Thanos who is waiting for them, there’s a specific song playing in the background: https://youtu.be/H_9mnO_NOjk?t=120 (it starts at around 2:00) and you’ll hear this series of deep bell sounds? For the life of me- that specific sound sounds SO FAMILIAR and I can’t friggin place it. I can’t decide if it just reminds me of the Wind Dance song that plays in TAZ Balance whenever the Hunger shows up (which is fitting tbh)? Or if it sounds like some boss battle music that I can’t place? Maybe from Pokémon or Mystery Dungeon? I just can’t remember. It sounds real cool tho -but uh yeah UM -STEVE!! WORTHY!!!! -I mean we all be knowing but! -such a cool scene. I started clapping the first time I watched and others in the theatre joined in -not as cool as when Vision lifted the hammer but I’m biased -but things look dark at this point and I can’t remember if it’s at this part or one one next but there’s this real cool wide shot, this real nice tableau of Steve on a hill or something and this light behind him as he faces Thanos’ army and yeah it just looks real good. Like a good computer background I’d like to have or a poster -but yeah then! -“ON YOUR LEFT!” -Yay!!! Portals open and ‘oh yeah! Everyone’s back now! We have friends to help us fight!’ -gave me some good TAZ Balance episode 68 vibes. Could have called for a cool Lup-esque speech tho from Steve since he’s so good at that- “You see this? This is scary. But we can do this.” -EXCEPT -now we reach the part of my rambling where it turns into somewhat of a rant -because I’M annoyed but only for a specific reason that won’t affect the average moviegoer since Apparently not everyone’s a fan... -cuz Literally the only person who doesn’t show up -is my boy Vision -I mean Yes -I Know he was one of the people who died before Thanos snapped -but my hopes were Way Way Up that he’d come back somehow -and UHHH APPARENTLY I WILL JUST HAVE TO BE DISAPPOINTED -everyone Else came back??? Why not my boy?? -he wasn’t even mentioned despite being So Important in IW -except vaguely when Wanda pulled a real Taako in Balance episode 67 “You f**king took everything from me!!!” -she could have took out Thanos on her own for sure like he had to call in the big guns just to stop her from doing just that -strongest Avenger heck yeah -and Carol came too! -friggin Star Wars Episode 8-ing up in here shooting through Thanos’ spaceship that was So Cool -and the Girl Squad! Girl Squad! part!!!! Yes!!!!! So good!!! Protec small Peter! -somewhere, Nat smiled -Spider-Man’s instakill that was great -I loved the ‘pass the gauntlet’ part though -when Clint handed it off to T’Challa, T’Challa called his name and that was good cuz callback to Civil War when Clint said “we haven’t met yet. I’m Clint.” And T’Challa was like “I don’t care”. He does care now! Lol! -Carol just friggin Beast mode Thanos can’t even touch her he had to pluck the Power Stone from the gauntlet to even knock her back! We stan! A legend! -and oof Tony to Stephen Strange “14 million and one we win? Is this it?” “If I tell you it won’t be” -cuz oof -it really was a good ending for Tony though -he started it all way friggin back in 2008 -and the “I am Iron Man” Yes -and also I think it was in Age of Ultron that part when Tony was talking to Fury and it was like “I saw them all dead and that wasn’t even the worst of it” “the worst was that you didn’t” -so it’s very fitting and so so good -lining up with and going against Howard’s earlier “the greater good rarely outweighed my personal interest” and proving that Tony really was so heroic -so like it’s sad but it’s fitting and not like an unsatisfying end for his character -and it’s not like he won’t be friggin mentioned ever again or anything he’s friggin Iron Man he’s already in the new Spider-Man trailer -(no shade at all in the ‘not begin mentioned at all’ category...) -anyway oh wait -oh god Peter Parker tear my heart out again sad boy he’s so good at making us sad when he’s sad about Tony -yeah anyway again -loved the “proof that Tony Stark has a heart” disc from the first movie that was good -oh and so like the camera is moving through all the different groups of people on the dock and moving towards the house -(just an interlude but CAROL IN A SUIT UM YES) -there’s a shot of some random kid! And I didn’t know who it was until I was leaving the theatre and another guy heard me and my dad talking and he told us! It’s the kid from Iron Man 3! Now That was a nice throwback -but yeah then it gets into the I guess TAZ Balance Rebuilding Year-esque scenes -which were all Very good! Good family scenes; Hope and Scott and Cassie, and T’Challa and Shuri and their mom, and that scene with Wanda and Clint was very good BUT -would it have been So Hard to do just a small scene of maybe somewhere in Wakanda like Shuri helping to rebuild Vision with all that vibranium while Wanda was there watching? Maybe even from his old body?? Would that have been so hard?? Just Something to give me hope?? -why are all these movies So Against Wanda being happy??? -but yeah almost to the end -more time travel with Steve going to return the stones! I’m glad Sam and Bucky got more lines I love them both -but what I really loved was that Steve got his Magnus ending -not in a “how does Magnus die” way but a “how does Steve live” way -love me a good happy ending esp if it involves dancing like that’s All he wanted -like I said earlier, I think just seeing Peggy again was enough for Steve to be like ‘oh it doesn’t matter if I can’t live without war action (a la what Ultron said in AoU) i do really want that life with Peggy and I can do that now’ -it was just Good -but it does raise a few time travel questions -like if Our Steve went back to the 1940s (he did go to the 40s right?) does that mean that there’s another Steve still stuck in the ice? I would say there can only be one Steve at a time but that was proven wrong in the very same movie. There’s gonna be something to do with multiverse in the next Spider-Man which will of course just make everything all the more confusing but still... I guess if I don’t think about it too much it’s not such a big deal -it was also very fitting that there weren’t any after credits scenes. It reminded me of the end of TAZ Balance with the announcer (Junior) not announcing the final episode since he said in 68 that we’d have to see what happens in the last one together. Idk but I liked that -and I liked the signatures of all the OG avengers! That was like them signing off on this huge thing they did, which is really what happened! This huge friggin 12 year thing! -wait was that what the 12 meant all along?? The 12%, the 12 minuets? We may never know -but anyway back to the most important part to me -my boy Vision

-I was so naive  

-like I’ve been told there’s gonna be a tv show or something but like -come on -you could have given me Something -I feel like Griffin in the Fallout 4 Monster Factory after Roachie despawned “nothing?!? You leave me nothing!?!” -so like all in all it was a good movie a Really Good movie I liked it a lot -that Time Heist- I love time travel plots. I already had some of my next DND campaign planned with time travel being a big part- I hope my players don’t think I’m stealing lol -it was very enjoyable and so so good to wrap up this huge thing and put a bow on this story arc. Which I guess can open the door for experimentation now? Which would be kinda cool -Scarlet Witch movie maybe and my dreams can come true??? I can be happy??? Please -I just- one little scene could have left me less disappointed and given me just a little hope but anyone who’s not in the ScarletVision boat will not be disappointed by this movie (cuz the deaths [Tony and Nat] are heroic and satisfying to me, so I’m not not satisfied by that) -it wasn’t Their movie but still. Let me complain -It really was really good though -And I guess I only get motivated to write fanfic like once a year (or whenever new ScarletVision content is in a movie though um the Vision part of that was uh nonexistent) so like my Complements fanfic is in the process of growing a fourth part so look out for that I guess -and if you’re still here reader, I hope you enjoyed my long long ramblings

-and in conclusion:

[tisfan]

Of all the Lord’s Creations

Title: Of All the Lord’s Creations Collaborator: @27dragons & @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Wing Kink Ship: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Major Tags: sin and temptation, angels AU, demons AU, a wide variety of semi-accurate christian mythology, and also some very inaccurate stuff, the authors are going to hell, angel!Bucky, demon!Tony, oral sex, frottage, tail and wing play, Gabriel’s kinda a dick Summary: Tony's pretty sure that corrupting an angel will get him back into Lucifer's good graces, and Bucky's gorgeous enough that seducing him won't even be a hardship. Bucky's on Earth to do good, which is what he was made for, but it's a little lonely. Surely it couldn't hurt just to *talk* to the fascinating demon that he happens to meet... Word Count: 11,457 Created for @mcukinkbingo

Tony was going to be in trouble soon, if he wasn’t already. In very hot water -- and in Tony’s case, that might be literal, if the Boss was peeved enough.

He’d lost his taste for partying and booze and drugs, and that was fine -- it was getting harder and harder to really corrupt someone with those anyway, and he’d landed a cushy gig inspiring weapons makers to newer and greater heights, destroying souls by the thousands, tens of thousands.

But it was so hands-off. So distasteful. He’d fallen down on that job, too.

And worst of all, he’d actually saved that child, the other week. So he had a soft spot for children. Sue him.

But it all added up to one thing: he had to earn some points with the Boss, and soon.

Pepper, his lesser demonic cohort (she refused to accept minion as her designation, and that was only fair really) consulted a clipboard. “I have it, Tony,” she said. “There’s a kid, out in Queens, he grows up to be a superhero; Clotho is all over that… We could corrupt him, that’d be… that’d be big. I mean, just think what a new supervillain on the scene would be worth.”

Tony glared at her. “Do I even know you?”

Pepper scowled. “Um, well, there’s that scandal,” she suggested. “The one we’ve all been sitting on, those letters for the potential saint, Margaret Carter? We could release those, put a real wrench in her canonization.”

“Ehhh. I don’t think they’re going to be enough to stop it. Just slow it down a little.”

“How about this, then--” Pepper thumbed through the Infernal News and Reports. “It’s a toughie. Maybe it’s just what you need, something to really sink your teeth into.”

Tony licked at his fangs. “Maybe. What’ve you got?”

“There’s an angel, on earth,” Pepper said. “He’s in trouble, halo’s a little bent. Gabriel’s dumped him in New York City, with instructions to do some major miracle work. But you know how angels are… lotta faith, very little street smarts.”

Tony sat up straight. “You’re shitting me. Seriously, an angel?” There hadn’t been a new Fallen in centuries. Corrupting an angel would cover Tony with glory. So to speak. “New York City, hm?” He grinned. “Now that. That is a worthy job. Get the relocation paperwork going, but keep it on the down-low. I don’t want anyone else muscling in before I get my turn.”

The problem with miracles is that they required faith. Faith, not proof.

There were a lot of things that Bucky could do… the loaves and fishes trick had always been popular.

Even though there wasn’t actually a food shortage on the planet these days. More like a supply problem, and it was beyond even Bucky’s ability to miracle his way through red tape.

So far, he’d been reduced to influencing luck. Which was, honestly, shitty miracle work. A homeless guy tripping over a winning lottery ticket didn’t praise or thank the Lord. In fact -- Bucky sighed -- they usually ended up in worse trouble.

Humans could only see him at all if they had high faith, or when he was in a human vessel. So, every morning, Bucky slipped into his vessel and tried to figure a way to get back into the Lord’s good Graces. Working at the soup kitchen wasn’t glamorous, but it did let him slip in some minor miracles; increasing the amount of soup, making what soups they did have more nourishing. A little healing touch, here and there. New York City had some of the nicest fall weather in a long time, letting the homeless stay warmer, longer.

It wasn’t much, but Bucky was still waiting for some Divine Inspiration.

If nothing else, earth was at least more interesting than Heaven. He didn’t much miss it, although he sometimes missed being able to talk to someone who actually knew who he was. Humans… didn’t listen. They just sort of waited for their turn to talk.

It was dark by the time Bucky left the soup kitchen, and as he crossed the street, a dark, slender figure detached itself from the alley wall. “Hey there, angelface.”

Bucky squinted into the darkness; the shadows seemed to cling to the stranger with loving hands. “The Lord be with you, friend,” Bucky said. It was a good, solid earth greeting. Those with no faith would rapidly make their excuses to be elsewhere, and those with faith would find a few moments with a comforting ear.

“I very much doubt it,” the stranger said as he took another step closer to Bucky. The shadows spread behind him like stretching wings. “Going my way?”

(more below the cut)

There was something about the stranger that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. He’d obviously been associating with humans too often if one could cause such a reaction. He took a step closer, trying to see the face behind the shadow. He couldn’t, which was odd. Absently, Bucky plucked his halo out of the pocket of the coat he wore; not like he got cold, but the pockets were useful.

To human eyes, Bucky would have merely run a hand through his hair. In truth, his halo was a bit lopsided, tilted at a rakish angle over his left eye, and pretty badly dinged up. It didn’t shine as much as it used to. Bucky blamed the Internet. Heaven was just so boring, and when he got caught sneaking down to earth from time to time -- he was almost current with Game of Thrones -- he got an angelic time out.

Seen with Heavenly light, the stranger’s face--

--was not at all human, under the human vessel he wore. The demon was beautiful, despite the shattered remains of his halo that made up what humans saw as horns, and the devastation of his wings. His face was angular and long, his beard trimmed into a neat, sharp point, his eyes deceptively warm and welcoming, his smile -- what else? -- wicked. “Ah, there you are,” he purred, and eyed Bucky’s halo and wings with a hungry expression. “That poor thing’s about to Fall,” he added. “You might want to have a friend ready to catch it.”

“I’m fine, thanks for your concern,” Bucky said, a little stiffly. It wasn’t his fault that Steve had been promoted years ago, and that Bucky didn’t really have any friends left. Steve tried to visit, as often as he could, but seraphim had busy schedules. He eyed the demon, curious. “I didn’t know they let your kind out of Hell.” He took a step closer, fascinated. The wings were short, stubby things that protruded out of the creature’s back, but he’d heard rumors that they had… oh, there it was, curled around the demon’s leg. A tail, long and as swift-moving as a cat’s. Bucky had a sudden urge to touch it.

“Aw, now, don’t be like that,” the demon said. “Of course they let me out. I’m Fallen, not damned.” He smiled again, charming and surprisingly sweet.

Bucky was a relatively young angel; the War had been long over before he’d come into existence. He’d never actually seen a Fallen, before, much less spoken to one. “Did it hurt,” Bucky wondered, “when you Fell?”

The demon laughed outright, and it didn’t sound evil or condescending, just... happy. “All right, you win that round,” he said after a moment, still chuckling around the words. “It’s been a long time since someone surprised me like that.” His head tipped, just a little, showing off a long throat. “Come and have a drink with me, angel. It gets lonely here, with only humans around.”

Well, Bucky could agree with that. It’d been a while since he’d had anyone to talk to. Gabriel totally didn’t count. The archangel just showed up to sneer and scold. Bucky wasn’t supposed to socialize with demons, but… he had to admit, he was curious. And Bucky was tough; of the line of Samael, who once wrestled a human during the entire night. He absolutely wasn’t afraid. “Do you have a name that I might call you?”

“Call me Tony,” said the demon. “And who are you?”

“Tony,” Bucky said, tasting the word, sounding it out, figuring the flavor and all the meanings. Layers of power, in a name. Except this one was obscured, the meaning lost. Bucky grappled for it, and it faded. He couldn’t hold it, there was no way for him to grip the name, to have any control over the demon. He was strong, then. Ancient. He hesitated over giving his own name, but it would be rude. And Bucky wasn’t scared of a demon. The Lord was on his side. Theoretically, at least. Bucky’d never actually met Him, either. “It’s Bucky. My… my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Tony smiled. “So delighted to meet you, Bucky.” He tucked his arm through Bucky’s and gently tugged, leading the way up the street, toward a bar. “This will be the first proper conversation I’ve had since I got here.” He sounded thoroughly happy about it, and his tail... his tail was curling gently around Bucky’s calf.

“Oh!” Bucky shivered again, and… with a crack like a whip, his wings stretching out to their full span, involuntarily, the feathers spreading protectively. “Oh, that’s your… I’m sorry, I… you startled me.” Bucky’s skin felt strange, tingly, from where the tail had touched him, and then his neck got too warm, and his cheeks were heated, and his tongue felt a little too large for his mouth, awkward and thick. He fanned himself with his wings, cooling his overheated skin, and then pulling them in tight, folded against his back.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, gorgeous.” Tony grabbed his tail and dragged it away from Bucky with both hands. “It has a mind of its own, sometimes. Though I must say it’s got excellent taste.” Tony watched Bucky’s wings until they were folded away again, then tore his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Let’s get that drink, shall we?” He pushed open the door to the bar.

It was dark inside, lit with low, neon lights and the occasional strobe from the dance floor. The music was loud, the place crowded. The crowds parted for Tony like the sea before Moses, though, until they wound up in a smaller, somewhat quieter space to one side, plush and luxurious. Tony folded onto the well-padded bench seat, and patted the space beside him invitingly.

It wasn’t hard to follow, the demon’s tail wasn’t the only interesting thing about the view from behind. Bucky found himself staring, and not even knowing why, just that the demon…

...represented the ultimate temptation.

Bucky would do well to remember that. He took the seat across from Tony, instead. Not that it was much better, their legs bumping under the table, and the demon’s mobile mouth drawing Bucky’s gaze instead. “How… have you been on earth, long?”

“It seems like forever,” Tony sighed. “How about you, Bucky? I understand you’re fairly new here.”

“Well, I used to sneak down, sometimes, too,” Bucky admitted. “So… two weeks, plus an hour here and there. Usually to watch television.” He couldn’t help the shy smile that crossed his lips. The very few conversations he’d had that humans responded to favorably, had been about shows. “Some of the older angels, they have access to human entertainment, but… our guardian doesn’t allow it. It’s bad for us, keeps our thoughts away from the Lord.” Bucky puffed out a breath, absently grabbed hold of his pinion feathers and ran his fingers over them. A nervous habit.

“Oh, I knew you’d be good to talk to,” Tony said. “I love TV, and we don’t get most of it, you know, Downstairs. What shows do you like?”

“Oh, anything with old-fashioned fighting,” Bucky said, dreamily. “Swords and massive armies and honor. Humans don’t fight that way, anymore. It’s a shame, really.” Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he watched those shows; humans were so… very physical, both in love and in war.

Bucky found himself leaning across the table, as the night went on. Drinks were brought, consumed, paid for. Tony talked, and listened. He shared insights, and his sense of humor was delightfully wicked, pointedly observant, and he was quick with a clever phrase. Bucky wasn’t even sure that he noticed when Tony’s tail had stopped playfully teasing at Bucky’s calf and was, instead, laying in Bucky’s lap, letting itself be petted like a cat.

He barely noticed the passing of time at all, until the bar started to close down, and they were given the same speech as the rest of the humans that is was time to leave.

“Well,” Bucky said, as they staggered out onto the street, human vessels dizzy with alcohol, “this was… educational.”

“It was marvelous,” Tony enthused. “Thank you so much for spending the evening with me.” He hesitated. “I wonder if I could... well, it’s a silly thing, really, but it would mean a lot to me.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” The stars were spinning in the sky. Bucky could focus on an individual star, far away, and see the planets that went around it. Fascinating. “I’m listening, go on.”

Tony smiled a self-deprecating little smile. “Could I just... touch your wings? I miss mine so much.”

“What? Oh… yeah, I… sure,” Bucky stammered. No one touched wings, it just… wasn’t done. Sometimes, Bucky couldn’t help it, in a crowded area, it was hard to avoid brushing another angel’s wings, but it wasn’t a deliberate act. It was almost like touching someone’s halo, the very symbol of their relationship with the Lord.

But he’d been petting Tony’s tail all night and it seemed somehow… snobby, almost priggish, not to allow him the liberty.

Bucky spread, his wings unfolding gently. As dark as it was, now, they gave off their own, soft light. A little hop up, and the Grace took hold. Bucky hovered, a few inches over the ground, toes pointing down and all the weight of the human vessel falling away.

Tony just stared up at him for a long minute, his eyes liquid and wide. “You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. He stepped forward until his body was all but pressed against Bucky’s, and he looked up into Bucky’s face as he reached over Bucky’s shoulders to lightly caress the thick feathers. “Oh, that feels...”

He’d never felt anything like it; each stroke of Tony’s fingers sent spirals of sensation down his wings, into his very flesh. Bucky reared back, startled at how… good it felt, how soft and how soothing, and yet, it burned in him, like fire. His wings arched out, shuddered all over, and then, instinctively, he mantled, pulling Tony in close and covering them both with the protective shell. Inside, drenched in the holy light of Bucky’s wings, in the perfect Grace of his halo, Tony was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

“Oh! Oh!” Bucky wasn’t sure what to do, everything seemed very… awkward.

Tony’s tail ruffled the feathers enclosing them, and that sent delicious sparks through Bucky’s body. “Bucky,” Tony murmured, “let me kiss you?” He lifted up onto his toes, his head tipped back, until his breath spilled over Bucky’s lips. Bucky wanted, wanted something that he couldn’t name, but Tony was hesitating, waiting.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Bucky whispered. But surrounded by the heat and scent of the demon, Bucky couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. It certainly sounded interesting. His mouth tingled, and he licked his lip. He remembered watching dozens of kisses on television, each time he would pluck at his pinions and shiver with delight. They seemed to enjoy it, so much. And Bucky had rarely so much as touched another angel. Sometimes, very close friends would touch fingertips or palms and even that seemed… greatly daring. Angels didn’t have bodies, except to serve the Lord.

Well, if his body’s purpose was only to serve the Lord, maybe this would be the way, Bucky thought, suddenly. “Yes, why don’t you do that,” he suggested. “Kiss me.”

Tony’s mouth touched Bucky’s, and it wasn’t at all like he had imagined, watching humans kiss on the television. It was so much more, the gentle brush of skin on skin and the warmth of Tony’s breath and the scent of him and the taste, somehow, of the drinks they’d consumed but also something more, something indescribably sweet and maybe a little sad. Oh, and Tony’s hands were still in Bucky’s wings, deeper now, curling around the shafts and stroking them.

Bucky didn’t know what to do, he really did not, and it was so good, and so wicked, and Gabriel would be so angry, and… Bucky wrenched his mouth away, panting for breath, wings shuddering all over, and his halo was glowing. “Tony, wait, no,” Bucky said, and he tried to back up, but Tony’s hands were still on him and he didn’t want to hurt Tony, didn’t want to… didn’t really want to stop, but he should. He really, really should. Resolve wavered in him, and then solidified. “Tony, wait, I need… I need you to stop.”

Tony didn’t stop for a few seconds longer, and then he pulled away, looking hurt and confused. “What’s wrong? Did it-- did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it didn’t hurt,” Bucky reassured him, hastily, and he realized he was still holding Tony in, wings still sheltering them both. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m… you… I…” He pulled his wings back, slowly. Let himself touch the ground, and all the weight and burden that came with it, drawing up his human vessel and letting the light from his halo flicker, putting it back in his pocket. “This… this isn’t what I came to earth to do. Not… I’m an angel. This… you… I’m here to help people.” He couldn’t help it, brushed the very tip of his wing down the side of Tony’s face before he tucked it away.

“There’s no one here who needs help right now,” Tony said, swaying toward Bucky. Then his eyes widened. “It’s because I’m Fallen, isn’t it?” His tail snapped back, away from where it had been curling up the side of Bucky’s leg again. “I must be repulsive to you.”

“No, no,” Bucky protested. “You’re not. I promise. You’re so… lovely. Interesting.” Bucky found himself twisting his feathers again, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bend the delicate vanes. He squeaked, let go of his wing and patted at it, soothingly. “It’s me, I’m… this.” It’s wrong, it’s sin, it’s… selfish. Bucky berated himself. “I need to go. This was… incredible. I’ll treasure… I have to go.”

Bucky gripped his halo and willed himself to the small sanctuary he’d claimed, holy ground. Home. An abandoned church that had never been deconsecrated. Where he could rest and hide. And pray.

Even if he didn’t know what he was praying for.    

Tony made his way back to the bar, long closed now, and made himself at home in the VIP lounge. So much sin in this place -- lust and greed and intemperance and pride. Occasional splashes of hatred and disobedience and idolatry, for flavor. It was such a delicious place.

And Tony’d had such a wonderful evening. He’d lured the angel as far as a kiss, already. The whole thing would barely take any time at all.

Bucky. Such a sweet name, such a trusting creature to give it to an old demon like Tony. It was a name that tasted of strength, and of youth. Bucky was too young to have known the War -- did it hurt, indeed!

Sweet, naive creature. He’d even let Tony touch his feathers -- bittersweet, that; he hadn’t lied about missing his own wings. Tony could almost feel bad for what he was going to do to the angel. Almost.

The next night, he made his way through the shadows to the building where Bucky worked his small miracles. Tony wondered if those miracles had stuttered, when Bucky thought about Tony’s lips on his.

Bucky was late coming out, later than before, and Tony smiled, imagining Bucky debating whether he should emerge at all. Whether he hoped to see Tony again, or dreaded it. Tony waited patiently for the inevitable.

When Bucky finally came out, Tony stepped into his path. “Angel.”

Tony had seen Bucky in all his glory and grace -- well, the human version. Some angels could become wheels within wheels, the size of buildings in their magnificence, but Bucky didn’t seem like that sort. And yet, he was utterly unprepared for the young angel to smile at him. Bucky’s whole face lit up, not a holy glow, or even the mysterious angelic phosphorus of Bucky’s wings, but just… joy. There wasn’t an ounce of deception in the celestial nature, so he couldn’t be lying, even with something as simple as a smile.

Bucky was, quite honestly, happy to see him.

“Tony,” Bucky exclaimed, and held out his hands in a greeting, inviting Tony to touch his palm.

It wasn’t a kiss, but it was fairly intimate, for angels -- a gesture for kin and close friends. Equals. Tony touched his palm to Bucky’s in the ancient greeting, then curled his fingers around Bucky’s, squeezing a little. “I’m glad to see you, Bucky.” Tony couldn’t control an angel with their name the way he could a human, but it still set up a resonance that Bucky would feel, each time Tony said it.

“I am gladdened to see you, too,” Bucky said. “It’s been a very exciting day. I might have overdone it a little. Come on, let’s go, before anyone else sees me.” He laughed, light and pleasant and actually bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own, the edges of his wing brushing against Tony’s neck and side. “There’s got to be something we can do, yes? I haven’t seen much of the city, really, and I’m just... excited. Oh!” He grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him down a side road. “Reporter! Mustn’t get caught, you know. Faith, not proof. Can you fly?”

Tony couldn’t precisely fly, but he could be anywhere he wanted to be if he concentrated hard enough. “No,” he said, and let his lips pull into a teasing smile. “Are you going to carry me?”

“If you wish it,” Bucky said. He considered Tony for a long moment, hiding in the mouth of some filthy alley, and then, “here, turn ‘round, like… oh, these really look terribly painful, I’m so sorry.” Bucky brushed his fingers over the stumps of Tony’s wings. There was a surge of light and Tony felt an angel’s Grace touch him for the first time in centuries, millennia, since the War. “Hold on.”

To what?

Bucky slid his arms around Tony’s chest and lifted him. An angel in flight could only be seen by the purest of men, the most holy, the most faithful. Young children, sometimes. And cats. Who were entirely unimpressed with angels and demons alike.

Bucky’s Grace ached through Tony’s bones, but it was worth the pain to look down from an angel’s vantage again. To feel Bucky’s breath spilling over his head. To feel Bucky’s chest pressed against his back, even if it stretched Tony’s wing stumps unbearably. Pain was nothing new, but it had been millennia, aeons, since Tony had flown simply for the joy of it, and his eyes filled with tears at the simple beauty. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, and it could be sincere and part of the seduction at the same time; it could.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt true gratitude, unburdened by the weight of expectation or debt.

“Oh, look, there’s a good one,” Bucky said, and he swirled through the air until he deposited Tony on a cloud, light and fluffy and full of warmth. That was decidedly an angel’s trick, and nothing that Tony could have managed, making a solid landing place above the human world where they could look down and see, and yet remain concealed. Bucky laughed, spread his wings out and laid down on them like they were a blanket, staring up into the sky. “Don’t let go, you’ll fall.” He kept one hand outstretched for Tony to take. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me to say. Please, forgive it.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the forgiving business,” Tony said, but he grinned and winked as he said it so Bucky would know it was a joke. Even if it was also deadly serious. He kept hold of Bucky’s hand, and curled his tail around Bucky’s leg as well, for good measure. “You’re in a good mood today. Do angelic vessels not get hangovers?”

Bucky blushed, pretty and pink. “I Healed someone, today. I was… well, I was happy, and I touched her, and she could see. She looked up in my face and she Saw me. We had to call the… the little truck that comes, and she wanted me to come with her, to see the doctor. He thinks I shocked her, like a little tiny lightning bolt, and it pushed her nerves back into working order. I don’t know, humans are silly sometimes, in their quest for Answers. And then-- then someone heard about it, and he came down to the kitchen with a big check, and that’ll just do so much good, Tony, it’s very exciting!”

Tony stared at Bucky in shock. He’d tempted an angel into sin -- not much of it, but a little! -- and the next day the angel had done more good? Inspired more faith?

That was not what Tony had planned. Damn it (literally), if word of this got back Downstairs before Tony made good on his promise to corrupt Bucky, the Boss was going to be so pissed.

Okay. Okay. No panicking. This wasn’t unrecoverable. Tony could use this.

Bucky was still holding his hand, after all.

“Maybe kissing is good for you,” Tony said, keeping it light.

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed. He eyed Tony through long lashes. “I prayed about it, you know.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you? And did you get an answer?”

“I did,” Bucky said. He rolled up onto his side, leaning on his elbow to stare lazily at Tony. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Do you want to know what He said?”

How long had it been since Tony had heard the Lord’s voice and known His Will? “Tell me.”

“He said I should always repay that which I owe,” Bucky said. He reached out, fingers trembling, and he touched Tony’s face. “You gave me a kiss. Should I give you one back?”

Tony laid back, letting Bucky lean over him. “I would like that,” he said honestly. Bucky’s kiss had been so sweet... And if the Lord was actually telling Bucky to kiss Tony back, then Tony would eat his own tail.

The first kiss Bucky gave him was not on his mouth, or his forehead, but instead, Bucky touched his lips to the palm of Tony’s hand, a sudden, searing agony of a kiss, so full of Grace that it burned Tony’s flesh. Like a Holy wafer, like blessed water, and yet, even in the middle of pain, it went right through him. It warmed every inch of him -- a demon, who’d been to Hell, who knew intimately the fires of Lucifer -- in ways that he’d never imagined. Like he’d been cold and not known it, like he’d been scared and was now protected. Like he’d been alone, and was now home.

When Bucky pulled away, Tony was gasping for breath, tears streaming from his eyes. “What... What was that?”

“Oh!” Bucky turned Tony’s palm. “I…” He ducked his chin a little, embarrased. “I told you, I’m overdoing it today.” Clear as sunlight, right in the middle of Tony’s palm, where Bucky’s lips had touched… was Bucky’s Name. Written in angelic script. It glowed, soft as starlight.

“What...” Tony touched the name with his own fingers, feeling the way it sparked and sizzled under his skin. Beelzebub’s left tit, this was getting out of hand. Tony needed to get this back on track, and fast. “Bucky,” he whispered, and watched the Name on his skin flash and glow. “How?”

“I… uh, I don’t know?” Bucky ran his fingertip over it. “I’m sorry, does it hurt? I didn’t… I won’t do it again.” He carefully, tenderly, folded Tony’s fingers closed, like a mother giving a child a kiss to save. “I certainly won’t do it to your face, I like your face just the way it is.” And he leaned in to kiss Tony’s mouth.

For a long, sweet moment, it was nothing but pressure, warm and willing, but unlearned. Bucky let out a faint breath, and then his tongue slid out, traced the crease of Tony’s mouth with timid, but eager licks. Tony had kissed more humans than he could conveniently count, and more than a  good sized number of the Fallen. And he was discovering that they were all nothing, by comparison. That a little baby peck from an angel who’d never so much as been touched before was reaching places inside Tony that he’d thought sealed and locked and gone and forgotten. Bucky hadn’t closed his eyes, as if he didn’t know he was supposed to, or if he was so fascinated by Tony that he didn’t want to, and there was a hunger in those brilliant blue eyes, the same color as storm clouds.

As if Bucky might Fall, for no other reason than to be with Tony. As if he needed something from Tony, something no one else could ever, ever give him. More precious than faith, more rare than Grace. Bucky needed him, wanted him, with a fervor that was… humbling.

Tony cupped Bucky’s face in one hand and kissed him again, slow and thorough, mapping Bucky’s mouth and giving in to the temptation to roll his body up against Bucky’s, to feel that strength, to test the depth of that desire.

Bucky made a soft, humming sound, licked at Tony’s mouth again, and then drew back to look at him. “What… what are we doing?” He didn’t seem angry, or afraid, just curious, and his fingers twitched out again, traced along Tony’s bottom lip, leaving tingles in their wake. Those fingers slid up the side of Tony’s face, and then hesitated, right over the edge of his hair, hovering near the jagged edges of Tony’s horns; the remains of his halo.

Tony tipped his head, stropping his horn against Bucky’s hand like a cat might, if a cat had horns. It ached a little; Tony’s horns were sensitive from a wound that couldn’t be healed. But it also felt good, that bright, singing sensation that was the constant presence of Bucky’s Grace. “We’re...” He paused, considering it. He didn’t want to frighten Bucky away again, or make Bucky angry. “We’re making love.” That’s what the humans called it, even when there was nothing as pure as love about it.

“We are?” The seemed to delight the angel and that soft, sweet smile grew even brighter. “I didn’t know. We’re… creating it?” Bucky quivered against him, like a bowstring pulled taut. “Will I be able to see it? Will you show it to me?” He was caressing Tony’s horns the whole time, as mindlessly and guilelessly as he’d patted Tony’s tail; the innocence of a creature that hadn’t yet learned that some things bite.

There, that was the permission Tony had wanted, the crack in the angel’s armor that would let Tony’s corruption in. That was what he had needed. He should feel triumphant, but all he could feel in the moment was a sense of awe, that Bucky would trust him so completely, chased with a hint of something like sorrow -- pity, that Bucky was going to learn such a hard lesson, so harshly.

Not enough to stop him, though. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and pushed gently until Bucky was laid back on those glorious wings again, and Tony was leaning over him. “I’ll show you,” he promised, and he kissed Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s cheek and jaw, drawing on all his skill to read Bucky’s responses and react to them. If Bucky was going to Fall, then Tony would give him something worth remembering. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured into Bucky’s ear, and licked the shell of it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Bucky said. He leaned into Tony’s kiss with eagerness. “You won’t hurt me.” When Tony pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reactions, Bucky repeated the kisses, exploring Tony’s ear, nipping at the lobe, and letting his breath warm the damp skin. “You won’t hurt me.” His hands roamed aimlessly around, Tony’s shoulders, his back, along his throat; a blind man trying to discover the face of God. Each touch, so clearly innocent and unaware of the fire he was building, was like a gift.

That trust was searing itself into Tony’s skin with each soft touch. “No,” Tony agreed. “I won’t. I’m going to do the very opposite of that.” He nuzzled in to kiss Bucky’s throat, licking and nibbling gently, and stroked his hands over Bucky’s wings, tugging softly at the primaries and secondaries, ruffling through the smaller feathers, letting himself imagine how it would have felt, when his own wings had been whole.

Bucky shimmered under Tony’s hands, his human vessel dropping away to reveal the angel, unhidden and bright. The earth-style clothing melted away until all that was under Tony’s hands were billowing, white robes. A golden belt around his waist and a golden collar around his neck held them closed, gave his wings a whole back panel to spread through. Not that it mattered, an angel’s wings could only be held down by sin. It was the nature of things. Bucky mantled again, as Tony kissed his throat, tucking Tony into that safe, white shell.

Without the human mask, Bucky was even more beautiful, his Grace mirrored on a perfect face. Soft, full lips framed a glorious, eager smile. His eyes were the blue of stormclouds at sea, dusted at the corners with laugh lines, and fringed with thick lashes. Strong chin, sharp perfect cheekbones. A thousand master painters could have struggled for a thousand years and never created anything so beautiful. And yet, that same face turned in Tony’s direction and all Tony could see was the reflection of himself, in Bucky’s eyes.

Tony knew that Bucky could see through his human disguise, had already seen Tony’s demon shape, scarred and disfigured by the Fall. But it still took an act of will to drop his vessel and reveal himself, in the face of Bucky’s perfection. He pushed aside the masks and met Bucky’s gaze with stubborn pride. He had earned his scars and his blackened stumps. Let the angel look, if he would.

But Bucky’s eyes held no pity, only curiosity and warmth and burgeoning desire. Tony took a breath, and another. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest, over that robe, whiter than the cloud they rested on, and felt Bucky’s heart racing underneath. “You’re so beautiful,” Tony said, and let the wonder of it fill him. “Are you sure?”

“Only the Lord, or fools, are ever certain,” Bucky said.”You are as distant and beautiful as the stars, and as unique as a single snowflake, ephemeral in your perfection. How many angels would dance on the head of a pin? Only one, if you will dance with me. I am not certain. I am not sure. But I am willing, and I want this. Show me love, Tony.”

Tony laughed. “As you say, angel.” He kissed Bucky’s throat, around the edge of that collar, then unfastened it and set it aside, letting Bucky’s robes fall open to reveal his chest, muscled and smooth. Tony dragged his mouth over that skin, sweet and warm, licked and kissed and nipped and sucked until Bucky was arching into each touch.

Bucky squirmed and writhed, made soft, kitten noises in his throat. His hands opened and closed on Tony’s shoulders, sometimes stroking his skin, sometimes just holding on. “I don’t… I don’t…” he gasped. “Oh, Tony… I…” If Bucky was human, Tony would have said that his legs went ‘round Tony’s hips instinctively, but angels shouldn’t have those sorts of instincts. They didn’t mate like humans, and it was only in mockery and mimicry of humans that demons learned those things.

But Bucky was as pure in love and as eager in learning as he was in everything else. When Tony did something the angel liked, he knew it. The sounds Bucky made were incredible, needy and sweet. And when Tony did something specific, Bucky would mimic it, then try his own variations, to see if what Tony liked was different.

Bucky startled, when Tony shed his own clothes in a burst of fire, the rich scent of sulphur hanging in the air, the ash of cloth wafting away on the breeze. “Oh,” Bucky gasped. “That was… impressive.”

Bucky rolled them over until Tony was supported on nothing but the clouds and Bucky’s will. Terrifying, because if Bucky let him go, Tony would fall, and while demons couldn’t really be killed -- well, not by anything as mundane as gravity -- it would still hurt. He stared at Tony as if he’d never seen a naked man before, and perhaps he hadn’t. It wasn’t like an angel needed to take a shower, even if Tony had indulged in the luxury.

His hand went down Tony’s chest and stuttered over the scarring at his heart, where his Angelic Name and Power had been stripped from him, a clawed hole that had been covered with thick ropy scar tissue. It always ached, always hurt, just a little. But Bucky’s fingers didn’t shy away from the ugliness, didn’t even seem to register that it was ugly. He kept right on touching, as if Tony were somehow precious. “Lovely.” Down more, and then--”Am I allowed?” His palm was just over Tony’s cock, scant millimeters away. “Will you like it?”

“Yes,” Tony promised. “Please. Whatever... anything you want. You can’t hurt me.” A lie, that, but Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt him, and that was nearly the same thing. Tony had never let pain come between him and pleasure before. “You learn fast, Bucky.” What a glorious demon he would make.

Bucky’s fingers explored the length, from base to head, and then he laughed, delighted. “Oh, it moves! Not quite so much as your tail, but-- does it have a mind of its own, too?” Bucky kept stroking it, petting it. At the start of each stroke, he ran his thumb over Tony’s crown, smearing precome down, sending delicious, juddering sensation through Tony’s whole body.

Tony groaned. “Something like that,” he managed. He slid his tail up under Bucky’s robes, coiling higher and higher up Bucky’s thigh. “Going to let me return the favor, gorgeous?”

“You should always pay back what you owe,” Bucky said, almost primly, despite the wicked things he was doing to Tony’s cock. He curled his hand around it, squeezed, and then twisted, making Tony cry out with sudden pleasure, before rolling them over again, the cloud obligingly moving around underneath them, perfect support and cushion, and tucking his hands behind his head, as if waiting for Tony to get on with things.

Tony laughed again and settled himself into the vee of Bucky’s thighs. “This isn’t something to owe,” he said. “This is something to give, a gift.” He plucked at Bucky’s belt and let it fall away, let the robes drop open to reveal a body that made Tony’s mouth water at the sight. “But if you like, I will repay, with interest.” He slipped down and closed his mouth over Bucky’s cock, thick and long and dark with need. He had to stretch his jaw to take Bucky down to the root, but it was worth it to hear Bucky’s gasps and soft cries, to feel that perfect body trembling under him.

One of Bucky’s hands speared into Tony’s hair, then latched on to his horn, thumb stroking along it in time to Tony’s movements, like it was a handle. The other somehow found Tony’s tail, pulled at it once, which sent shivers directly up Tony’s spine, his hand warm against the surface, before retreating to caress the spaded tip. His wings arched around them, feathery ends tickling down Tony’s back and legs, seeming to touch him everywhere at once. “Oh, that… that feels… Tony, that feels so good!”

Tony hummed in approval. His tail was sensitive, almost as sensitive as his hands and cock. And the way Bucky touched his horns -- humans couldn’t touch them at all, and demons simply didn’t, but Bucky couldn’t know that. That indescribable pleasure-pain of Grace scraping against the remnants of Tony’s halo... He shuddered, and tried to take Bucky even deeper into his mouth, because if he pulled free, he was going to do something utterly undignified, like beg for more.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Bucky cried, each repetition going higher and more frantic, his body unable to remain still under the onslaught of sensation. “Tony, something’s happening!” And he bucked up, hips moving, piston sharp, against Tony. His hand tightened, almost unbearably, on Tony’s horn, before relaxing again and then-- Tony found his tail hauled straight up and Bucky was licking it frantically, sucking the spaded end into his mouth and playing it with his tongue, swallowing around it. He hummed, a quick patter of notes that sent vibrations shimmering up Tony’s spine.

Tony’s tail twitched, and he swallowed down around Bucky’s cock, pressing his tongue flat against the vein. With a more experienced partner, he might have stopped, drawing out the moment, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything like that with Bucky, not like this. Nothing could ever be more perfect than Bucky’s frantic desperation and confusion, and Tony wanted nothing more than to lead Bucky to climax, to see the shock and pleasure on the angel’s expression.

Bucky jerked, one last time, and then his Voice rang out, multiple chords, a sound absolutely unreproducible by a human throat, a beautiful alleluia that shook the sky and earth. The clouds scattered and it started raining down from nothingness, the moon brilliant enough to send rainbows scattering for a brief moment of meteorological miracles.

“Oh! Oh, Tony.” Bucky panted for breath, overwhelmed and shivering with reaction.

“There you go,” Tony soothed. He swallowed his mouthful -- of course Bucky tasted wonderful -- and crawled up to take Bucky into his arms. He petted the angel’s hair and shoulders and the join of his wings. “That’s it, just relax.” He eyed the rainbows mistrustfully -- the last thing he needed was for the Lord to butt in now.

Bucky cracked one eye open to give Tony a Look. “Don’t think I could get any more relaxed,” he pointed out, the sarcasm loaded, and unlike the angel’s normal, sweet, too-innocent tones. He stretched, displaying all his glorious skin, and then his hand travelled down Tony’s body again. “Will… that? Happen for you? Teach me, show me how to make love with you.”

Tony suppressed a scoff -- everyone knew that demons couldn’t love. Everyone except Bucky, it seemed. Tony curled his hand -- the one with Bucky’s Name branded into the palm -- around Bucky’s, wrapped their joined hands around his cock. “Like this.” He showed Bucky how to stroke, slow and then fast, rolling over the head to spread pre-come, making things slick and easy. “Just-- oh... yeah. Just like that.” Bucky was a very fast learner.

“Hold on to me,” Bucky told him, pulling Tony in closer, his breath warm against Tony’s neck as he moved his hand, drawing pleasure from the demon’s body. Reaching a fever pitch, Tony’s body was shuddering in Bucky’s arms, and then Bucky leaned down and licked Tony’s horn. No pain, only unimaginable pleasure, ripped through him, stunning him with its bright joy. “I have you, I’ve got you, my prayer. Give me your gift, love.”

Tony had never felt pleasure like this. It surged through his body, erasing the pain and anguish and uncertainty. Bucky’s attention and sweet words made him feel whole, however briefly. Cherished. Loved.

The tears that fell from Tony’s eyes were no less of a relief than the climax that rushed through him, healing and hot and perfect. “Bucky!” The angelic syllables tore out of his throat, echoed off the clouds, and shattered the starlight into fragments as Tony let go and fell into Bucky’s arms.

When Tony came back to himself, Bucky was still humming that glorious multichorded chorus, and wiping Tony’s chest with the corner of his robes. “You might be right,” he told Tony in all seriousness. “It’s a gift. I just cannot quite place who is giving, and who is receiving. A gift, that we give to each other.” He shifted his robes again, and Bucky’s halo slid from the pocket, a glimmering ring of gold against the clouds. “Pesky thing,” Bucky said to it, fondly. He lifted it, and then hung it on Tony’s horn. “Hold this a moment, would you?”  

Tony was so shocked he couldn’t even move for a long moment. An angel never touched another’s halo, never mind handed it over in a moment of -- what? Affectionate playfulness? And Tony was a demon. He could, in theory, do terrible things with a whole halo in his possession. “Bucky!”

“What?” Bucky finished cleaning Tony up and wrapped the spare bits of robe around him. “You know, well, of course you know, angels are the embodiment of the Lord’s love. I’m supposed to love everything that the Lord created. But I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, laughing eyes bright. “I think, of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

You can’t, Tony wanted to say. You mustn’t. Because Tony was no fit vessel for love. He was a black hole, drinking in light and never returning it. He was Fallen, a demon. Surely the Lord’s mandate stopped short when it reached the gates of Hell.

He looked down at the Name shimmering under his skin, and said nothing. He just curled against Bucky’s side and felt Bucky’s wings cradling them, strong and secure and safe.

When Tony woke up, he found himself alone on a bench in the park, body slightly damp with dew. He was wearing clothes he didn’t recognize, mismatched, but concealing him. In one hand, he held a single, white feather.

The soup kitchen was a happy, busy place. The money was flowing in, the love and nutrition flowing out. Bucky had made a few suggestions in the director’s ear, and they were laying down the groundwork to buy an abandoned shopping mall and turn it into low rent and no rent housing, just outside the city. So much good was being done and Bucky was a part of it.

He had to keep damping down his glow. Even the director had commented on it, when he came in to begin the day’s work. “Looks like you had a good time last night,” she had teased.

“I did, thank you,” Bucky had said.

And now, Bucky was taking his turn at the soup line, filling bowls with thick stew, when time stopped.

Gabriel blew in the doors of the shelter, his silver trumpet already at his lips and the blast he sounded dropped a dozen pigeons dead in the streets, caused Mr. Hartwell to seize up, his heart strained. Children burst into tears, cats fled, dogs howled. The sky grew dark and ominous. Bucky dropped the soup ladle and found himself cringing against the wall as Gabriel’s boots rang against the floor.

Bucky didn’t know what the humans saw, a robber, perhaps, a drug-crazed maniac. A kidnapper, or terrorist.

But the director rushed forward, her face set with anger, and she wielded a kitchen knife threateningly against the Angel of Judgement. “Get away from him!”

“No!” Bucky threw himself between Gabriel and the director. “Leave her alone, she’s done no harm to you. I’ll come with you, just… leave them alone, Gabriel. They’re good people. They’re doing the Lord’s work.”

Gabriel looked past Bucky, through him, at the director. Weighing. Judging. Finally, he focused on Bucky and lifted his empty hand to point. “Outside, then.”

“Call an ambulance for Mr. Hartwell,” Bucky told the director, then kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You… take care of everything here. Lord’s blessing on you.” He sealed that with his kiss; she would be protected, unless Gabriel wanted to take it up with the Lord. Terror and rage battled it out in his chest, nothing he should ever be feeling in the presence of an archangel.

He shed his human vessel as soon as he passed the threshold, vanishing from the human world. He went to Gabriel and supplicated himself, kneeling at Gabriel’s feet until his forehead touched the ground, reaching for the hem of Gabriel’s robes to kiss the fabric.

“What have you done?” Gabriel demanded. “I sent you here to repent.”

“Is this not good work?” Bucky asked, keeping his face down. “We are feeding near to five hundred people a day, getting ready to home nearly a thousand. It’s small, I know, but I’m only starting. I have brought hope, joy, faith, to at least a dozen or more.”

“And lost your own way so badly as to consort with demons!” snapped Gabriel.

“Tony is one of the Lord’s children, the same as you, or I,” Bucky said. He was petrified. Gabriel hated demons, hated them with a fervor that was unseemly in an angelic heart. Sometimes, Bucky wondered, if Gabriel didn’t hate Lucifer more than he loved the Lord. That was sinful, unworthy of Bucky to think it and he cowered closer to the ground, practically crawling. Debasing himself before one of the eldest.

“Hardly the same,” Gabriel growled. “And you have let it infect you with its lies, lain with it. The stench of Hell surrounds you like a cloud.”

“He didn’t lie,” Bucky protested. “He’s not an it, not a monster. Don’t speak about him like that!”

Thunder cracked. “How dare you? You defile your God-given body with that creature, and then dare to defy me?”

“He’s not a creature!” Bucky had never experienced righteousness. The purity of emotion that rose up on behalf of another, to defend and protect. But it grew inside him like a white ball of light until he was breaking at the seams from it. “Tony cares about me!” And the light exploded, blowing Gabriel right off his feet to tumble down the street, until the archangel was on the ground, staring up at Bucky with wide eyes.

It wasn’t until he was standing, proud and strong, over Gabriel, that Bucky realized what he’d done. Oh, oh, oh, no! He’d struck a superior, he’d raised his Grace against an archangel. That he’d knocked Gabriel down with the force of it said nothing, except that Gabriel could not have expected the blow.

Bucky went to his belly on the ground, agast. Horrified with himself. “I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Silence.” Gabriel rose to his feet, and a little beyond that, hovering over Bucky, wings outstretched in fury. “You teeter on the precipice, child of Samael. Have a care, or you will Fall. Or perhaps that is your intention.”

“I… just want to stay,” Bucky pleaded. “Finish the work. I’m doing good work. Let me stay, you’ll see.”

Gabriel was silent for a long while. It seemed years passed before he finally spoke again. “When our Lord allows me to sound the call to the Final Battle,” he said, his beautiful voice cold, “I will not hesitate to join the Host. I will lay down my trumpet and take up the sword, and I will destroy your precious Tony without a thought. And you as well, if you stand between us. Do you hear me, child?”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Bucky said, suddenly filled with sorrow. He stood, reached out for the elder. “When did you lose your Grace?”

Gabriel’s expression darkened, and the wind howled down the long-empty street. “Stay, if you will. Or Fall, if Lucifer will have you. But you are no longer welcome in Heaven.” He lifted his trumpet to his lips and blew a note that, if the humans could have heard it, surely would have destroyed them, rendered them into dust and ash. It pierced Bucky’s ears and heart and soul until he screamed and fell to his knees in pain and terror.

When it stopped and Bucky could see again, Gabriel was gone, and something... was wrong.

Bucky pulled his wings around him, cowering inside them. He reached his hand into his pocket, his fingers grasping for his halo.

A sharp spike of pain in his fingers and he pulled them out, full of dread. The golden blood of an angel dripped from his fingertips and the remnants of his shattered halo was held in his palm.

Bucky gave out a soft, agonized sob. “Father,” he cried out. “Why have You forsaken me?”

The sound sliced through Tony like a shockwave, more a feeling than a noise. He lifted his head sharply from his contemplation of the feather in his hand. He knew that instrument. He knew that note. If it continued much longer--

But it was gone. Tony slumped back against the park bench, heart pounding in fear and hope. It hadn’t stretched long enough to unmake an angel, though something had been destroyed. Tony wondered if he dared investigate.

He should feel more satisfaction. He had corrupted an angel; Bucky’s Fall was no doubt imminent. But that... only made him sad.

The ground at Tony’s feet heaved, like a large, angry mole was digging around under there, until the soil tore and Pepper clawed her way out. Tony preferred other, more dignified ways to travel, but he had to admit, Pepper’s method was quick. “Well, it sounds like someone’s having a bad morning,” she said, brushing dirt off her vessel in quick flicks of her hand. “We’re counting this as a win for the bad guys?”

“I guess so,” Tony admitted. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, feeling for the feather there.

“I have all the paperwork here,” Pepper said. “I need a drop of blood to process him into the middle circles. We can have him dragged, if he won’t sign. Make sure he knows it’s a slow climb, if we take him unwillingly. But if he comes with us, we can fast-track him. It’s been a while since you’ve had a new assistant. But I could really use some help, so well done, Tony-- Tony? Are you all right?”

“What? I’m... I guess.” Tony could feel every tiny ridge of the feather against his fingertips. “It’s just, he was so... So bright and hopeful and happy. He doesn’t deserve... this.”

Pepper waved a hand; she couldn’t actually conjure food and coffee, but there was probably some hipster across town suddenly missing their breakfast. It was one of her talents, and usually Tony enjoyed it, eating something meant for someone else. Literally taking candy from babies. “Since when have you cared about what they deserve?” Pepper asked. “Tony, this is a big win, here!”

Tony rounded on her. “It’s all about what they deserve, Pep! That’s the whole point! The whole system is explicitly set up to reward the worthy and punish the unworthy. And he doesn’t deserve this! He doesn’t deserve me.”

“What about what you deserve, Tony?” Pepper asked. “Right now, I think you deserve a doughnut and some espresso, because you’re just not yourself when you’re hungry. As far as the system goes, we’ve needed an overhaul of the system for years. It’s been on the agenda at every Diabolic Conference for the last ten generations at least. The act of buying indulgences has been on the books for so long, the really horrible sinners are getting a Fast Pass. Honestly, we’re not Walt Disney.”

“If only we had their numbers,” Tony muttered, almost by reflex, and then he shook himself. “Pepper, I can’t... I have to try to make this right.” He shoved the coffee and doughnut back into her hands and set off into the city as fast as his vessel’s legs would carry him.

Gabriel sure left his mark on a place; where his powers had touched the human world, there was destruction and chaos. Cops and SWAT teams lined the perimeter. A frantic woman described how a terrorist with a suicide bomb had come into the homeless shelter, and that their new, bravest employee, everyone loved him, and taken the man outside, and gently talked him down, until the man had gone mad and depressed the trigger.

She was sobbing as she told the story.

Ambulances were attending the injured.

Near the door, there was a crater, as if there really had been some explosion. A soft, barely there sound reached Tony’s ears. Muffled sobbing, as if so great that it was leaking through the Veil.

Tony shed his vessel -- the last thing he wanted was to deal with well-meaning but useless humans -- and swept through, a cold shiver of a wind for those crossing his path. It was physically hard to enter the crater; the echo of the note lingered there, painful static on Tony’s skin. He pushed through it anyway, because Bucky was there, kneeling at the center of the crater, wings curled protectively around himself as he sobbed.

Tony was surprised -- and relieved -- to see those wings still intact. There was some hope, then, that Tony hadn’t utterly destroyed him.

And no hope, really, that he would want to see Tony, not when Tony was the author of all this pain. But he was helpless to walk away. He stopped just outside of Bucky’s wingspan and watched for an endless moment. He couldn’t move, not until he realized that he was rubbing at the palm of his hand, thumb dragging back and forth across Bucky’s Name. Tony forced his hands to his side and air into his chest. “Bucky?”

“Tony!” Bucky cried out and for a moment, Tony wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being attacked, but Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s throat, using Tony’s strength to hold himself up. “Tony, Tony, Tony, he broke it! He broke it! Gabriel broke it!”

Tony almost staggered under the sudden weight, but managed to keep them upright. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “What did he break?”

Bucky gulped down more tears, then opened his hand. Laying in the palm were three crescents, dull and black and pockmarked. “I only spoke the truth, and he shattered it,” Bucky wailed. There wasn’t even enough of Bucky’s halo left to form a decent pair of horns; they’d just be tiny spikes on either side of his head, no longer than an inch or two. Not enough to grant Bucky any demonic powers. He’d be a lesser imp, never capable of anything more than the strength of all celestial beings.  A foot soldier, sacrificed for a hill in the Last War.

Tony swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault.” He reached out, then hesitated. Touching an angel’s halo or a demon’s horns was... Bucky had touched Tony’s horns. Bucky had looped his halo over Tony’s horns, and-- Tony brushed a finger along the curve of one short crescent. “I did this.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bucky said. He wiped his cheeks angrily, smearing tears across his perfect face. “Gabriel did it. Gabriel did it, punishment for me, for daring… for daring to care about a demon. Gabriel has harbored hatred in his heart. He has lost his Grace.”

Bucky sighed, slid the pieces of his halo back into his pocket. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I’m not ashamed. I don’t regret anything I’ve done. The Lord has not judged me; Gabriel did.”

Because I tempted you. A new demon -- even if only an imp -- and news of Gabriel’s lost Grace would definitely bring Tony back into the Boss’ good books. At least for a while.

It wouldn’t even be that hard to convince Bucky to come with him, to finish Falling. To convince the angel that punishing the damned was still part of the Lord’s work. The words sprang easily to Tony’s tongue.

They tasted bitter, though. Tony found his hand in his pocket again, stroking the feather.

He took the feather out and looked at it. Angel feathers didn’t just fall out; they had to be removed. Not unlike...

“I can fix it,” Tony heard himself saying. “Give me the pieces. I can fix it.”

Bucky didn’t even ask; didn’t even hesitate. After everything that happened, Bucky still trusted Tony, implicitly and absolutely. A few slivers and a handful of what was practically dust. “I would do it again,” Bucky told him. “You’re not a monster. You’re not a thing. Gabriel had no right to say it.”

“I am absolutely a monster,” Tony said. “I am a terror in the dark. I tempt the good into sin, and sinners into damnation. But I am going to fix this. You are going Home.” He sat down there, in the center of the crater, and laid out the pieces of Bucky’s halo, every tiny sliver and speck of dust. It wasn’t enough, because of course it wasn’t, but that was all right, because Tony had his own pieces.

He didn’t look at Bucky, and he didn’t let himself think about the consequences. He grasped at his own horns and pulled.

It hurt. It hurt nearly as much as the Fall had hurt, nearly as much as losing his wings. He kept pulling. For Bucky.

At last, they came free, a pair of pitted black arcs. Tony laid them carefully next to Bucky’s pieces and measured. It would be enough, just. “I was a smith,” Tony said softly. “I built halos, before the War.” He summoned his fire -- it had been Holy fire, once upon a time, cleansing and shaping. Now it was profane, a balefyre that consumed and destroyed. But it obeyed his command, and he needed it to forge the pieces together.

He wiped blood from his face, running down out of his hair, out of the holes where his horns had been, and flung that into the fire, as well. If he was going to sacrifice his power and his standing and -- quite probably -- his existence to save the angel, then he might as well leave some of himself in the halo. Let some small piece of him return Home.

Time and space only existed when he wanted them to. He squeezed into the space between seconds, slipped into the molecules of matter, and pulled the pieces of the halo together. Bucky’s pieces joined to one another eagerly; they already knew each other. He expected it would be more difficult to join his own horns into the curve, but -- he had almost forgotten, again, Bucky hanging the halo against his horn. They knew each other. Tony tested the seams, and found it solid, if simple.

The fire licked away the black scarring, leaving a halo in its place, thinner than it had once been and more silver than gold, but true and whole. Tony released his fire and slid back into the world, and finally, allowed himself to look at Bucky again.

“What… what did you do?” Bucky was staring at him, eyes wide and awestruck. “Tony, what did you do?”

“I fixed it,” Tony said. “It just needed some parts.”

Bucky stretched out his hand. Tony thought he was reaching for the halo, but then, past it. “Tony-- oh, God’s glory, Tony… look what you did.” He touched something over Tony’s shoulder and a shock of sensation rippled down his skin and into his spine. “Tony… look at this.” He tugged, and it was reminiscent of someone pulling his tail, or… his wings?

Bucky drew the feathers over Tony’s shoulder. Not white, like an angel’s, but brilliant red and gold, like the very heart of his fires.

Tony’s throat closed, and he had to swallow around it. “I didn’t. That’s-- I didn’t do this.” He lifted a shaking hand to feel the feathers, soft coverts and stiff primaries. He stretched the wings out and they obeyed him, splaying wide. The muscles felt stiff, unused, but whole and strong. “How...?” He didn’t realize he was weeping until he looked at Bucky again and found Bucky’s face blurred.

“You… you’re Forgiven, Tony,” Bucky said, and he gently took the halo out of Tony’s hands and set it over Tony’s head. It hovered there a moment, then settled, filling him with Grace. “You can go Home.” Bucky stepped back, to look at Tony in all his glory. “Of all God’s creations, you’re the one I love best. Go Home, Tony. Go Home. You deserve it.”

Home. He could go Home. He could resume his place at the forge, could bask in the Lord’s presence, could-- Never see Bucky again.

Tony took off the halo. “No. Not without you.”

“Tony--” Bucky fingers brushed over the halo, and Tony felt it, like an extension of himself, down his fingers and into his palm where Bucky’s name was etched on his skin. Bucky brushed his thumb over Tony’s temples, Healing the gaping wounds there, wiping the blood clean. “You sacrificed everything for me. You should… there’s not enough here, not for both of us. If you don’t… what will we do?”

Tony caught Bucky’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “There’s enough Grace between us to stay out of Hell. That’s all we need. With one halo between us, not quite all the way to being angels, but not Fallen, either. We can stay here. We can... we can do good. Here. We don’t need to be angels for that.”

“I told Gabriel you weren’t a monster,” Bucky said. He pulled himself closer to Tony, tilted his head, and claimed Tony’s mouth for a kiss. “Of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

Tony pressed his mouth into Bucky’s palm, breathing into it the Name he had lost and now recovered. “I love you, Bucky. Into eternity, I love you.”

The Lord tilted His head to one side. “I’m surprised to see you, Luci. Do come in, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Lucifer stalked in, tail whipping from side to side like an angry cat’s. “Don’t come over all inscrutable on me,” he growled. “And don’t try to tell me that you saw that coming. There’s no way you planned that. And now we’ve both lost!”

“Need I remind you that I work in mysterious ways?” The Lord waited until Lucifer was fuming, smoke pouring out of his ears. “I didn’t lose him. Bucky’s a good boy, if a touch rebellious. A bit too obsessed with the television. One might say I learned something, from the last time I had a spot of the mutinous to deal with.”

Lucifer huffed. His horns nearly formed a perfect circle, only a jagged crack between them. “And Tony is still an expert at temptation and mayhem, even if he’s got some soft spots. What do we do now?”

“Well, I’d like to offer amnesty -- there’s a demon in your employ who’s been bringing up some system overhauls. Yes, I have a spy in your midst, Luci, don’t give me that look. I know you have them, too. She has some interesting ideas. And this-- those boys? They may be our best hope for mending our fences.”

Lucifer looked startled. “Mending our fences?”

The Lord gazed at Lucifer, His eyes soft. “I did wrongly by you, Morningstar. Maybe it’s time for all of Us to let go Our old grudges and try to be a family again?” He offered His hand to Lucifer Morningstar, once the best and brightest of the angels.

Lucifer took the Lord’s hand gingerly, as if expecting it to burn. When it didn’t, he let out a soft breath and sank to one knee. “Thy will be done,” he murmured, “as always.”

“In the meanwhile… Gabriel has lost his Grace. Maybe you could take him under your wing?”

Lucifer was on his feet again, grin showing sharp teeth. “Has he, now? Well. He’s going to be stubborn about it, too, I expect. That’ll be fun.”