#but also capital e Excited

[bisexualrapline]

anyone have any "living alone" tips for me 😁

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 5)

Lucifer/Reader — Lucifer wants you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for the smut. FINALLY

(Hope none of y’all were planning to actually get off though).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“You want a… baby?” 

Lucifer looked as stunned as you felt. He reminded you of a spooked deer — frozen and wide-eyed as he waited for imminent death. Or more aptly a dying fish as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. 

“… To hang out with?”

Lucifer found himself in your apartment for the second time, milling about beside your coffee table. He internally scolded himself for fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other, but it was either that or burn a hole in your head with his hopeful gaze.

“No!” He let out a pathetic laugh. “Well, yes, b-but obviously not just that! I know there’s more to it than just ‘hanging out’.”  

“I'm not stupid.” He chortled again before glancing at you. “… I’m not that stupid.” 

The King had the uneasy feeling that you might see right through him now; find that inkling of excitement still germinating in his breast, and change your mind. Or worse, you’d withdraw even more and he’d have to feel that dreadful, terrible, no good shame. 

He had practically skipped through the halls of his castle (unbeknownst to you) with the contract held tightly between his claws.  But as soon as he entered your fireplace, the excitement had curdled like milk. It was replaced by that shame when he looked at you and saw your ashen face. 

“Obviously you wouldn’t be doing this for free!” Lucifer gesticulated wildly. “You, you said you wanted to travel right? Right! If you agree, you’d get to travel wherever you want, whenever you want, no strings attached!”

“A-and also! No more costs, period! All your bills and expenses paid forever, in perpetuity, beyond the grave! Capitalism is a bitch? No, capitalism WAS a bitch!”

“No, no! Capitalism will be YOUR BITCH!” 

Your resigned countenance combined with the memory of his pitch made Lucifer flinch. 

——

You were never very good in a crisis. Or under a severe amount of pressure… or a moderate amount, in all sincerity. 

But you’d have thought, even with the prospect of homelessness looming over your head, that you’d have drawn the line at making a Deal with the Devil to avoid it. 

Or at least you would’ve taken more than the time it took to draw up a legal contract to accept your fate.

That time maxed out to 6 days. 

The scroll unfurled before you. It radiated an ethereal golden light, and lined with a litany of official statements occasionally broken up by blank spaces meant for a (second) signature. 

         Lucifer Morningstar was signed here and there, in the same glittery calligraphy as was on his business card.

‘This contract must be interpreted by the Governances of Heaven [Heofon, Himmel, Kem, ἄκμων, آسمان, अश्मन्] and any litigations associated with Hell [Hel, Hallju, Kel]…’

‘… By this contract, Party A agrees to carry the Seed of Party B, hereafter known as “Father”, to the extent of natural gestation as governed by the Law of Nature…’ 

‘… This union shall be recognized only within the parameters listed and not heretofore or after…’

The legal jargon was giving you a headache. You scrubbed a hand down your face, determined to at least read through it all and, if you couldn’t pick out tiny discrepancies, at least find any giant red flags. 

(Even if you’d already reserved the excuse that it was easy to be tricked by the Devil when the Devil was insanely good at presenting himself as a theatrical little man who wore his heart on his suit sleeve).

           Then again, would it not just be easier to sign away your life without regard to the consequences?

Lucifer twitched when you groaned on your seat at the table. “Problem?” 

You rose slowly from your hunched position to make eye contact. “… My pen isn’t working.” 

You demonstrated by scribbling randomly on the sticky notepad beside his scroll. Lucifer responded instantly, left hand flexing in the air and, with a flashy poof, snatching a fancy pen out of thin air. 

“You can keep it” He said, grinning as you accepted it with a sour look. 

“Thanks… show-off.” You began scribbling your name in half-assed cursive on every blank line in sight.

The grin on Lucifer’s face became borderline manic as soon as you’d crossed your ‘t’s and dotted your ‘i’s. His teeth glinted in the light from your cheap-ass lamp and it made you wince as you handed the rolled up document back to him. 

“Um, can we maybe skip the kissing stuff?” You asked. “I don’t really want to cut my tongue open.” 

His wounded expression tugged rather annoyingly at your heart. 

“Sorry.” 

The smile he gave your mumbled apology was strained at best. “No, no I understand. The fangs were daunting to me when I first got them, too.” 

You cocked your head, thoughts materializing like the web of a spider. 

“That’s actually something we should talk about.” You voiced your thoughts. “Are we compatible? Down there?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean — you don’t have teeth down there, too… right?” You asked. “Or some kind of eldritch horror miasma that I can’t touch lest I fall into a coma from ecstasy? Or a tentacle?” 

“No!” Lucifer looked mortified. “Wh-what is wrong with you humans?!” 

“I’m sorry! I’m just asking!” You cried. 

You continued when his expression stayed stagnant. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you but I’m about to become intimately acquainted with… it, and I think I should be prepared!”

Your hellish companion stood, eyes closed, hands folded over his mouth as if in prayer. He breathed in slowly, then out. 

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry it’s… it’s been a while since I’ve been with a human.” He reasoned. “It’s good to ask questions. It’s—that’s a good one. Do you have any more?” 

That made you pause. There were millions of things you could ask the King of Hell and yet not one thing could properly formulate in your brain. 

“Um, I need a second to think about it.” You muttered. “What about you? My setup is pretty basic? I guess? I have a womb. At least I did, at my last physical a year and a half ago.” 

Lucifer’s lips twitched upward in a half-smile and there was an answering flutter from your stomach. “I know.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he immediately started babbling. “I mean! I know because the contract went through! The ink would’ve turned red… or disappeared… To be honest, I don't know. I haven’t made a deal in a long time, ha ha. But I remember something happens when there’s a technical issue!” 

“Ah,” You felt better with that explanation. 

Kind of. 

“I thought of a question, actually. Sorry.” You shrugged sheepishly. “It’s probably in the contract but…”

You swallowed down your trepidation. “… I won’t die, right?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, you faced the floor and missed the way Lucifer’s face fell. 

“Barring the normal risks that come with being pregnant, nothing else is gonna happen, right? Or if it does, it won’t be agonizing?” You asked quietly. 

A moment of silence passed before the ex-Angel’s fingers curled under your chin. Your head rose and you saw Lucifer's eyes soften from something sharper and more determined. 

“I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby.” He said firmly. “Nothing terrible will happen to either of you. I swear.” 

It was strange, the effect his words had on you. The jittery feeling in your chest slowly disappeared, and the tears forming in your eyes didn’t fall. 

“Okay.” You nodded with a barely there, watery smile. 

——

“I’m gonna turn off the lights, ok?” You said over your shoulder. 

Lucifer was undoing the last of the buttons of his dress shirt, vest and overcoat already laid neatly over your desk. He met your gaze, eyes bright. 

“Of course.” His close-lipped smile struck you, but you flipped the light switch before you could think on it. 

A lack of light did very little to suppress Lucifer. He seemed to glow like the star of his namesake, flourishing in the dark and hard to miss. You simply hoped, as you pulled at your sleeves, his shine wouldn’t illuminate the terrain of your body. 

Cold air hit your skin, goosebumps rose along your bare arms and shoulders, but you persisted. When everything was shucked save for your underwear, you moved to your bed and realized Lucifer was still standing at the baseboard. 

With arms crossed, you assumed the same position at the side of the bed. “Um?”

“Ladies first!” He chimed, as if reading your mind. 

You sighed, then slowly climbed onto the mattress and awkwardly pulled the comforter from under your butt. You settled and patted a spot in front of you. 

Hesitantly, Lucifer accepted the invitation, and he was sitting next to you before you could blink. 

No going back now. 

You shifted in your spot uneasily. Fuck, it had been a long time since you had sex. 

How did you start this shit again? 

No kissing — per your own request. You had half a mind to take it back while you sat there floundering, trying not to let the tangible awkwardness break your resolve entirely. 

You could do this. For a lifetime of no work, no bills, no cares. 

You could do this.

A bit of movement in the dark caught your eye. You glanced down and realized that Lucifer was twiddling his thumbs waiting for you. 

The laugh came bubbling from your throat before you could stop it. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands and tugged him forward.

You could see his throat constrict as he swallowed and smiled questioningly. “What?”

Lucifer yelped when you laid back, taking him with you. 

——

“Ah! F-fu — Slow down!” You scolded, words muffled as you were repeatedly pushed down into the pillows. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you just,” Every word was punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips against the flesh of your ass. “Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” 

Lucifer moaned loudly as he continued to lose himself in the sensation. You could only groan, irritation building as your partner refused to give you even the most basic attention. The frustration peaked quickly, then unraveled as his pleasured moans and squeaks caused your stomach to somersault over and over again. 

You clenched around his cock when he whined, thrusting into you so deeply you felt the base of him stretching your hole that much wider. 

Well, fuck you for finding the sound of a masculine voice cracking the hottest thing in all of creation. 

But it was actually getting you there, so what were you complaining for?

          Eyes closed, you focused on the feeling, trying to jump off that precipice with only penetration. It reminded you of when you were a teen, awkwardly feeling around down there. Of trying to find the appeal in your fingers inside of somewhere so sensitive against the fear of hurting yourself. All while you worked yourself up with your own imagination. 

In a perfect world, you would’ve moved on from that stage of life with no repeat performances. Hopefully, it could still be salvag—

You gripped the pillows that hadn’t tumbled off the juddering mattress when Lucifer’s claws dug into your hips. He pulled you as close as humanly possible with a strangled yelp, shivering, shuddering, stammering incoherence as warmth flooded your insides. 

Fuck’s sake.

——

You were disappointed, but not surprised. All you could do after the fact was bury yourself in the covers and watch Lucifer catch his breath beside you. 

Not finishing aside, exhaustion from the entire ordeal made you indolent and your thoughts hazy. You studied your partner as he calmed down, clearly trying not to be too close to you now that the deed was done. 

Lucifer’s hair was in disarray, the space between his eyes and across his cheeks rosy like the blots parallel to his smile. 

“Hey.” 

Lucifer looked at you innocently, waiting. You could physically feel your walls crumbling down despite yourself. 

“Come here.” You murmured, hand sliding beneath the covers to touch that poreless skin. 

Damn you and your soft heart. 

‘Actually…’ You had Lucifer in your arms, his body still warm. Once he was in your grasp, the King melted against you. 

He looked a little afraid as you tilted him up by the chin to look at you. The Devil had surprisingly soulful eyes, questioning whatever you had in store. 

The tiny thought that he was being way too vulnerable drew a taut, uncomfortable feeling your chest. 

“Kiss me.” 

Lucifer blinked in rapid succession — surprise, wonder, confusion and hope bloom all at once on his unusual face. 

It made you laugh in the quiet, comfortable darkness of your room before you yourself leaned in and met his lips with your own. The line of Lucifer’s mouth trembled, but he reciprocated with only minor hesitation. 

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[training4theapocalypse]

A Royal Misunderstanding (Prince Friedrich x f!Reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7k

Warnings / Tags: SMUT, virgin Prince Friedrich and experienced(ish) reader, kinda switchy Prince F, unprotected sex (for the plot).

Summary: He's looking for the future Princess Consort. You're looking for a life out of the spotlight. It'd never work.

A/N: K and an E and a T and a T, E and an R and an ING. T and an O and a W, N. Kettering Town. F.C. Also thank you to my regency queens @stealsteels and @shinytalent for reading this 👑

Masterlist

There’s an unnecessary knock on the open stable door as you move to untack your mare. She needs a thorough brush after the ride you had today.

“You are the stable hand?” inquires a young man’s voice.

You whirl around, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but hesitate when you see his earnest, slightly incredulous expression. You’ve never encountered him before, you’re sure of it. His handsome face, tuft of blonde hair and wide-eyed demeanour would certainly have been memorable.

“I was told I would be meeting the stable hand here,” he continues, still uncertain. “To collect a horse.”

An accent. Foreign. He must be part of Prince Friedrich’s contingent, newly arrived from the Kingdom of Prussia this morning. And he must be exceedingly green to mistake you for a stable hand. Despite your riding breeches being muddied from your ride, any discerning footman would recognise that the fine tailoring is not typical of a servant's attire. Even one in the employ of the Crown. His own attire, however, is old-fashioned and ill-fitting - it bears all the marks of a hand-me-down from another household servant or perhaps an older family member.

You purse your lips to stifle a smile. The opportunity to toy with one of the charmingly naive lackeys from the Prussian delegation sparks your mischievous side. Besides, he’ll need to toughen up if he’s to survive in London. “Don’t they permit women to become stable hands in Prussia?”

He blinks. “No.”

“And this horse is for Prince Friedrich?”

“Yes.” He raises his eyebrows, as though it should be self-evident why he’s here. As if everyone should recognise Prince Friedrich’s footman. The man pulls his shoulder back and there’s a subtle hint of authority in his stance. You’re unsure if it’s the language barrier or his presumption, but his curt answers irk you.

“Very well, then,” you say, gently guiding your horse towards him. “This is Artemis. She’s the finest in the stable.”

“This is your finest horse?” He chuckles heartily and your mouth becomes a thin line and your nostrils flare. 

“Perhaps His Royal Highness would prefer a pony?”

He straightens, a haughty glint in his eye. “It’s covered in filth.”

“My lady is a keen rider and has already been out this morning. But if Prince Freidrich can’t handle a little dirt -”

“Of course, I can manage.”

You arch an eyebrow, his tone further irritating you. “If you say so,” you reply, handing him the reins.

As he mounts Artemis, you can’t help but decide to give him a parting gift. You give her a firm slap on her hindquarters. Artemis bolts forward, sending the young man bouncing precariously in the saddle. You watch with satisfaction as he disappears down the path, his shouts of alarm fading into the distance. 

Perhaps now he’ll think twice before assuming someone is a servant.

With a contented smile, you leave the stables, already brimming with excitement at the thought of telling your ladies-in-waiting about your encounter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as you’re concerned, there isn’t enough wide open space in London. Far too many locked doors and whispered secrets. Or worse. Written down secrets. Specifically, the sort published by Lady Whistledown. You’d much rather be at home than endure another visit to the capital but when Queen Charlotte invited you to stay at her residence for the duration of the social season, you could hardly refuse. Not when Her Majesty and your late father, the Duke of Kettering, were such dear friends.

You suspect this invitation to spend the season at the palace might be the Queen’s ultimate attempt to honour your father’s memory. It was expected that you’d be desperate to find a husband after he passed. On paper, it should have been simple enough - your inheritance is decent enough to tempt a husband.

But finding a suitor hasn’t been easy. You’re not asking for much. You don’t want titles or wealth. Just a husband who’d be content to let you spend the day out riding rather than attending social engagements. Events like this one are your idea of hell on earth. Although it wasn’t as bad as yesterday when you had to present yourself to the Queen as one of the eligible misses of the season. 

As you stepped into the centre of the room, your palms turned cold and you could feel your stomach turning inside out as you waited for the Queen to give her verdict. There’s an old saying: the brighter a lady shines, the faster she may burn. And you’d rather not find yourself turned to ash at the hands of the ton. 

You exhaled an audible sigh of relief when Her Majesty remained seated and deigned to give you a small nod of approval. Neither the diamond nor the disgrace of the season and you’re glad of it - it means fewer eyes on you. But even that short burst in the relatively dim limelight made you want to flee from the room and vomit. You put yourself through your paces in the saddle this morning just to shake off the lingering feeling of dread.

You should be grateful that the Queen did not wave you away dismissively. This is your second social season after all and your value is quickly plummeting. You just need a husband who is content to stay out of the spotlight. And is resigned to the fact that you’ll probably prefer your horse’s company to theirs. 

If only you really were a stable hand instead of the late Duke of Kettering’s daughter.

As you mingle in Queen Charlotte’s banquet hall amongst other guests, waiting upon the arrival of Prince Freidrich, you feel a twinge of guilt about your encounter with his footman this morning. Perhaps after this welcome dinner, you’ll discreetly invite him to meet you in the stables as a gesture of apology.

The footman was handsome, after all, despite the blonde whiskers he must have grown in an attempt to appear more mature. You wouldn’t mind ruffling his perfectly coiffed hair before letting him bend you over the stable door.

Your companion jolts you from your daydream by squeezing your arm with her silk glove excitedly. You turn and smooth the front of your gown as Queen Charlotte and her nephew Prince Friedrich’s arrival is announced. 

The doors open and it takes every ounce of your self-control to maintain a dignified composure as Queen Charlotte walks in, arm-in-arm with Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Or the man who you thought was Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Damn.

Of course, you sent Prince Friedrich himself chasing across the palace grounds on the back of your startled mare.

While your face retains a dignified composure, you can’t do anything about the prickle of embarrassment flushing your chest. It’s only a matter of time before the Queen introduces Prince Freidrich to you and you will need to eat copious amounts of humble pie, slathered with grovelling apologies and dusted off with begging for forgiveness.

There’s no avoiding it. Even though tonight’s dinner isn’t an official event of the season - just a small dinner for the fifty or so palace guests and members of the Royal Family, Prince Friedrich is still introduced to every eligible woman in the room. Including you. 

Queen Charlotte, eventually steers him towards you. “Allow me to present my nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia.”

You curtsy and allow him to greet your gloved hand with a kiss but your stomach twists in anticipation, waiting for him to admonish you in front of the Queen.

“Lady Kettering, your gown - it is exquisite,” he says, in the usual formality. “And I hope your ride this morning was more pleasant than mine.”

You take a breath to compose your apology but you’re saved from the necessity.

“Yes, the Prince had a simply awful time this morning. First, his footman forgets to pack his riding wear so he has to borrow some from the Viscount of Paisley. And then a common girl posing as a stable hand gave Prince Friedrich your horse and sent him galloping across the plain.”

“I see,” you say cautiously but the corners of Prince Freidrich’s mouth twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. You ask, “And is my horse alright?”

Queen Charlotte laughs at this. “I should have known that you would be more concerned about your mount than the Prince of Prussia.”

You smile. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s only that I’m confident a duplicitous stable girl was no match for His Royal Highness.”

“Your mare was returned safely,” smiles Prince Friedrich, a roguish glint in his eye.

Prince Friedrich bows and Queen Charlotte bustles him away onto the next group of eager girls. 

As you watch him greet the next group you wonder: why is the Prince of Prussia making excuses for you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the grand dining room, you search for your place setting at the far end of the table beside the other noble families from minor houses to no avail. They’ve missed me, you think in horror as you look around at the filled seats but one of your friends nudges you and nods at the empty seat next to Prince Friedrich. 

There must be some mistake. 

But when you glance at the Prince, still standing behind his chair expectantly at the middle of the table, he catches your eye and places a hand on the empty seat. 

Barely daring to breathe, you wonder if this is his way of getting back at you for the events of this morning. Perhaps he arranged for your table setting to go missing and you’ll be publicly humiliated when you dare to assume the seat next to him would be for you. 

You walk for what feels like a very long time to the other side of the table, feeling eyes on you as every step is like your shoes are made of lead. You do your best not to clench your fists as your face grows hot in anticipation of being embarrassed in front of everyone. 

Dipping your head, you refuse to look at Prince Friedrich and instead discreetly look at the place cards as you pass. The titles become increasingly grand as you approach the centre of the table until you reach the grandest of them all.

Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.

His Royal Highness, Prince Friedrich.

Then you see your name. Etched in gold on eggshell paper. At the place setting beside Prince Friedrich’s.

You blink, feeling relief course through you. You’ve never sat this close to the Queen before. The centre of the table was reserved for distinguished guests like, well, Prince Friedrich.

“Lady Kettering, I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away from your usual dinner companions,” says Prince Friedrich, looking at your friends staring wide-eyed at you from the other end of the table.

“It’s my pleasure, Your Highness,” you say, giving them a sharp look. As the servers remove the cloches from the banquet before you, conversation erupts around the table, giving you the chance to swallow your pride. “And I do apologise for this morning,” you add quietly. “I had mistakenly assumed you were Prince Friedrich’s footman.”

“A footman?” He grins, and tilts his head, picturing himself as a footman before adding. “I too would like to apologise. I should never have assumed a beautiful woman such as yourself was a stable hand,” he says. 

“When did you come to the realisation that I wasn’t?”

“I knew your horse’s name. When I asked who owned her, I was told it was a lady who was as wild as the horses she keeps.” Your mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “Is that true?” he asks, his green eyes twinkling with interest.

“Oh no,” you smile, sipping your freshly poured wine, aware of his eyes following your every movement. “My horses are very well-behaved.”

He laughs. It’s a pretty laugh. “Can I assume that means you are looking forward to the season beginning?” He gives you a wry smile. His eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he waits for you to share in his excitement for the beginning of the social season. But there’s something else in his gaze, something more intimate.

You must put an end to this before he gets the wrong idea and you’re made a spectacle of. Prince Friedrich will be the most sought-after man of the season and you don’t want the attention that accompanies competing for his affections - to be thrust into the spotlight and have Lady Whistledown write about you would be more attention than you could bear. 

You glance around to see if anyone is listening before lowering your voice. “Your Highness - may I speak candidly?”

“Nothing would please me more,” he says sincerely, his tone softening.

“Why did you arrange for me to sit here?”

Prince Friedrich looks taken aback. “Well… after this morning, I knew I had to find out more about you.”

You nod sadly. This is what you were afraid of but you had expected it nonetheless.

“This is my second - and hopefully last - season. You see, I’m not used to being in the public eye and I find the social season to be entirely mortifying.”

“I see…” says Prince Friedrich slowly.

“You Highness, please don’t mistake me. I’m honoured to be in your presence but -”

“Lady Kettering -” Prince Friedrich lowers his voice. “You told me you would speak candidly. Please disperse with the airs and graces.”

You push your food around on your plate. It’s risky to speak so plainly to aristocracy. Their fragile egos normally demand a guarded formality. “I am sorry but the idea of competing with other women to become the Princess Consort of Prussia is more publicity than I can handle. I need to find a husband quickly. A marriage of convenience.”

“Convenience…” He nods thoughtfully. “I understand. A marriage to me would certainly draw attention.”

He’s not offended. Thank god. “Exactly, Your Highness. Being in the public eye. The scrutiny. It would be unbearable.”

“It is a pity,” he says quietly. “Because I’m sure a mutually convenient marriage would have its benefits.”

Mutually convenient? Your own inheritance pales in comparison to the riches that Prince Friedrich is heir to. What would he gain from marrying you?

You look up from your plate to see that he’s brazenly smirking at you. 

Oh. 

It’s undeniable this time. He’s flirting with you. You feel heat creeping up your neck and you know you must look feverish when his eyes roam across your corseted chest.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness,” you say, your whisper barely audible.

“I mean that sharing a marital bed would have its… advantages.” Prince Friedrich takes a sip of his wine, seemingly pleased that he’s made you flustered. Now, you can’t have that.

You glance over his shoulder to make sure Queen Charlotte is occupied. “I don’t need a husband to reap those sorts of advantages.”

When you say that, he slops half of his wine down his front in surprise. “You - you don’t?”

You arch an eyebrow. “You don’t have other companions for that sort of thing?” You pass him your napkin so he can clean himself up, your fingers grazing his knee under the table, making him inhale a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not worried about being unable to please your new wife?”

He stares straight ahead, momentarily stunned. Like he never realised sex was something you could be bad at. After a beat, he shakes his head. “It would not be prudent if people knew I was having - ”

“You mistake me. It is not my intention to get caught.”

Prince Friedrich sighs, a sad smile playing on his lips. “If only it were that simple. I’m surrounded by people. Always.”

The two of you sit quietly, allowing the servants to replace your empty plates with dessert. You can practically hear the cogs in the Prince’s head as his brain works overtime, trying to decide how to respond to this new information. Prince Friedrich takes a polite bite of chocolate cake and sits back.

“Once again, being the Queen’s nephew complicates things,” you say, sitting forward and sliding your fork through a sizable portion. “Don’t you have an appetite after your ride this morning, Your Highness?”

“I think the news that you do not wish me to court you has disappointed me so much that I never want to eat again,” he jokes half-heartedly before returning his focus entirely to you.

“If only we really were a stable hand and a footman - waiting until all the palace guests had gone to bed to meet in the stables after dark,” you say after eating the last bite of cake on your plate. 

Prince Friedrich swallows thickly and your eyes move from his Adam's apple to the almost untouched piece of cake on his plate.

“Are you - are you still hungry, my lady?” he asks.

You lean forward and steal a scoop of whipped cream from his plate with your fork. You eat the whipped cream and he watches with bated breath as you take several seconds longer than necessary to drag the polished silver fork from between your lips.

"I'm insatiable, Your Highness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scratch Artemis’s head in the dark stables, wondering if you’ve made a mistake in being here. Mostly you were interested to see if the sweet, naive Prince Friedrich would turn up. But you know how noblemen are. Their egos are so easy to bruise that an adverturess could scare them off simply by existing. 

Which is why you can scarcely believe it when there’s a knock at the closed stable door. You don’t breathe for a second before remembering that only Prince Freidrich would knock before entering a stable of all places.

He opens the door and for a moment is visibly relieved to see you. You stare at each other. The only sound is the soft rustling of the horses, that is until he closes the door behind him and moves to you with an agility that surprises you, considering how unstable he was on your horse earlier.  

If he had no appetite earlier, it has certainly returned now. Prince Friedrich has a hungry look in his eyes as he pulls you close by the waist and kisses you. You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting a clash of teeth but his kiss is passionate, even skilled. Your shoulders untense as you relax into it and slide your arms around his neck, allowing him to pull your body against his. Even through the many skirts under your evening gown, you can feel that he’s hard.

His tongue enters your mouth, licking and swirling it against yours - it’s surprisingly good. And he smells good. A beautiful sandalwood cologne that can only be from the finest perfumery.

You pull back breathlessly before you can allow the inebriating scent and feel of him to rid you of your senses. “Prince Friedrich, I -”

“Please, just Freidrich.”

“Friedrich.” Even with his permission the name feels strange in your mouth. “How much romantic experience do you have?”

“I’ve read books,” he says quickly and you press your lips together to stop laughing.

“You mean romance books? Like Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron?”

“No, I mean… instructional.”

“Instructions on how to fuck?” He nods and flushes a deep shade of pink at the question and this time you can’t help but laugh. “Remind me to spend time in the palace library in Prussia if I ever visit.” You study him. “I meant more… practical experience. It’s not the type of thing you can learn from a book.”

“I have a little experience.”

“Like what? Just kissing?” He hesitates and you move your hand down between your bodies and brush his hard cock through his trousers. “Or has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

Friedrich swallows. “Before now, you mean?” You nod and he hesitates again, guessing that it’s not the answer you want to hear. “No,” he says, truthfully.

You withdraw your hand. “Maybe this is something you should save for your future wife.”

“Marry me, then,” he blurts out, his voice trembling slightly with urgency.

You groan inwardly, shaking your head. “Friedrich, I wasn’t being coy when I told you I don’t want to be wed to a Prince. Besides, the season is starting tomorrow and you’ll be introduced to a hundred wealthy, beautiful women. Each one of them would be a better match than I.”

“Impossible.”

“You don’t know that -”

“I know that nobody has ever spoken to me the way that you did tonight. Or this morning for that matter.”

You smile despite yourself. You can believe it. If you were trying to secure the Prince’s hand in marriage, you would have carried yourself with much more grace and dignity than you have thus far.

���That’s because I have the manners of a common mule and the propriety of a common whore,” your grin falters and you look at him seriously. “And both of those qualities make me thoroughly incompatible with the Prince of Prussia. Marrying you is out of the question.”

“I understand,” he says, clearly worried that you’re reconsidering lying with him. “Let me be one of your companions. Show me how to do it.”

“Will you promise not to ask for my hand in marriage when this is done?”

Your hands undo the lacing on his trousers as he hitches his breath. “Anything. Sh-show me. Please.”

You remove your gloves and toss them on the stable floor. You slide your bare hand into his underwear and feel him shudder when you grip his cock. Christ almighty. It’s bigger than what you had expected from the innocent Prince.

“Since we’re practising so that you can please your future wife,” you tell him as you jerk your hand along his length. “I’ll tell you what feels good and what doesn’t. And you must do the same.”

He exhales shakily. “This - this feels good.”

“That’s a good start,” you smirk. “And you have a nice cock, Your Highness. The Princess Consort of Prussia will be a very lucky woman indeed once I’ve shown you how to use it.”

“Oha,” he breathes. 

“So eager,” you tut playfully, your face inches from his. 

You pull him close and he moans into your mouth as you kiss him. The sound of his evident pleasure sends heat tearing through you. You make a mental note to tell your future lovers to share their vocal appreciation because the sounds Prince Friedrich is making are driving you wild. 

As you kiss him, you lead him over to the loose pile of straw and get to the floor. The straw is scratchy on your bare arms but your legs are thankfully spared by the protection of your skirts. 

“When the time comes to do this with your lady wife, you should both undress. But our clothes will remain on - mostly. This is more convenient if there’s an unexpected intruder. Plus, this hay is itchy.”

“Allow me,” says Prince Freidrich, sitting back on his knees and pulling off his jacket. For a second you wonder if he’s misunderstood what you said about undressing but then he flattens his jacket on the straw behind you for you to lie on.

If you were the swooning type, you might just have fainted then and there.

“May I?” he asks, touching the hem of your skirt at your ankle. You nod and he pushes up your skirts. You lift your hips, allowing him to remove your satin underwear. “Verdammt,” he breathes. He moves his head between your legs and you almost sit up in surprise. You don’t mind him having a better look at you if it’s his first time but this feels extremely personal.

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

He looks up at you and you pull your skirts close to your stomach. “My book - it said to kiss you here to make sure you are ready.” His face is so close to you that you can feel his hot breath against your pussy.

“Your book said to kiss me… there?” Your eyebrows knit together but you think about how his tongue felt swirling inside your mouth and a stab of ache pierces through your ribs. 

“It is not customary?” You shake your head and he frowns in confusion but doesn’t move. 

And you realise that you don’t want him to go anywhere. That the idea of him kissing you there in the skilled way he was kissing your mouth inflames you. Out of amused interest, you lift yourself up onto one elbow only to find him looking at you intently, hanging on your every word, waiting to find out what he should do. You realise that you rather like the look of him here, between your legs.

“You -” You swallow. “- You may try. If it pleases you. But I warn you, I - oh -”

Your warning dissipates into the air as Prince Friedrich leans down and glides his hot tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation. You feel yourself relax as you let him get on with this custom he’s learned from his book. You admit, it’s not unpleasant. But you’re not sure what he’s trying to achieve. 

It sort of feels like when you touch yourself. Maybe less dextrous but it’s hotter and wetter and - and - 

Good lord.

Much to your surprise - and your delight - you feel a soft, delicious warmth spreading from your core as he kisses you where you’ve never been kissed before. You splay your fingers through his blonde hair - your other hand still clutching your dress as his velvet mouth envelops your clutch of nerves and a wave of pleasure cascades through your body.

“Oh - oh fuck,” you curse, not caring that you’re swearing in front of the Prince. He pulls back abruptly and you pant.

“My lady?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes - god, yes,” you whine, impatient for his mouth to return to you.

He looks at you with that same subtle glint of authority he gave you this morning and says, “In that case, you are not keeping up with your side of the bargain. You promised you’d tell me what feels good.” 

Prince Friedrich dips his head and resumes, going from sucking on your clit to lapping up your juices and back again as you squirm and rock against him. This time you remember to hold up your side of the bargain. You pant and tell him how good his mouth feels - how good he feels. Everything is soaked, from your skirts to his chin and nose as he lets you grind yourself against his face. 

The flat of his tongue slides across your heat and it’s heavenly. Usually, when you’re with a partner, you’re used to working hard for your release - at the exact right position and tempo to pry yourself apart. But right now you’re just lying back and taking what Prince Friedrich’s tongue offers to you. And it’s offering exactly what you need.

“Don’t stop,” you mewl. “So good. S’good. So good -”

You feel yourself unravelling, your praise and words of affirmation turning into an incoherent babble as your orgasm breaches the surface. You must be making some semblance of sense because he listens - he keeps going and it’s all too much and not enough at once as your walls squeeze around nothing while Prince Friedrich continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves. 

Damn. You do your very best not to cry out and draw attention to the stables as Prince Friedrich gets closer and closer to making you cum on his tongue. But it’s nigh impossible as you feel the heat rise from your stomach and pull back like the tide. 

And then there’s the drop you’d been waiting for. 

“Oh - god,” you moan, drawing out the last syllable so that it drips as slowly as treacle. Ecstasy courses through your body as your release washes over you, making your thighs tremble on either side of the Prince’s head. Your chest heaves and you gently tug on his hair, away from your oversensitive cunt. “That’s - that’s good. It’s good. It’s enough,” you gasp before collapsing your head back onto his jacket.

Prince Friedrich gives you a few more slow, gentle licks and murmurs, “So feucht.” before drawing a finger over your twitching, soaking wet entrance, admiring his own handiwork. You don’t know what his words mean and you don’t have the cognizance to ask as you stare up at the wooden beams and try to regain your senses. 

After what feels like a lifetime of bliss, you’re happy for your view of the stable roof to be interrupted when Prince Friedrich moves up your body to kiss you and you taste the unfamiliar taste of your arousal on his lips. You kiss him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip. God, this was supposed to be you teaching him a few things - not the other way around. When you anonymise this encounter and retell it to your friends later they will certainly be hearing about this.

“Good?” he asks when he pulls back and you nod, before swallowing air.

“I have half a mind to sell my estate and move to Prussia after the social season is over if that is what they do there,” you say breathlessly. 

He smirks. “I have told you that it could be arranged. Come home with me and we won’t have to be discreet. We could do this every day.”

You pout playfully and push a loose curl from his forehead. “But I like the stables,” you joke even though your back is aching and a palace bed sounds much more appealing. 

“Well, we have stables in Prussia. You could bring Artemis.”

Artemis. 

He remembered her name. 

Your face softens as you picture her as a royal steed, wearing a white feathered plume like she’s the diamond of the season. 

But then the fleeting daydream disappears when you tell yourself that it’s a fantasy you can’t allow either of you to indulge in. As much as Queen Charlotte favours you, you know it would be seen as unacceptable for the Prince to marry someone from such a minor house.

And besides, you remind yourself that you don’t need a royal husband. You have your own home. You have your own horses. You have your own friends. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. But then, why does the thought of him making his social season debut at the ball tomorrow make your heart ache?

“There’s something else I’d like to ride, presently,” you say, in an attempt to rid the thought from your mind as you gently push on his shoulders until he lies on his back. 

You straddle the Prince and unfasten his trousers so you can pull his cock out. The sight of him, hard and ready for you and the way he twitches involuntarily in your palm makes your heart pound as hard and steady as horses hooves galloping.

You wriggle forward until you feel the smooth underside of his cock sliding under your messily slick folds, still wet from the orgasm the Prince had bestowed upon you with his mouth. A flicker of dark enjoyment ignites in you when you see a line between his brows as he knits them together and watches as you lift your skirts so he can watch you sliding back and forward along the length of his cock.

“Do you enjoy watching me do this, Your Highness?” you ask as you grind against him.

“I would enjoy watching you do anything,” he says, pushing your gown out of the way to take hold of your hips. “Du bist schön.”

You pause. “Do what?” 

“Nothing. Please. Don’t stop.” He presses his thumbs into your hipbones, urging you to create friction against him again. 

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Isn’t - isn’t that what we’re doing?” stutters Prince Friedrich. 

“Oh, my sweet Prince.” You bring your hand to his jaw as you lift yourself so you can position the head of his cock between your soaking folds with your other hand. “We’re only just getting started.”

You lock eyes with him and watch his face contort in pleasure as you slowly sink down, inch by glorious fucking inch. “Oh gott,” he whines. Your German is poor but you’re pretty confident you know what that means. 

“Let me know when you’re going to spill - I don’t want to carry your bastard,” you murmur, still cupping his face. “Do you understand?”

“Ja,” he says through gritted teeth. “I understand.”

You’re not sure he really does but that primal part of your brain that wants to fuck him now and worry about the consequences later tells you to shove your hips down against the resistance. You force the rest of his thick cock into you and inhale through your teeth, feeling the delicious way he stretches and fills you. His hands clamp down hard on your hips, his thumbs pressing fresh bruises into your hipbones. 

They don’t make them like this in Kettering. Or London for that matter. Equal parts sweet and naive yet firm and decisive. He doesn’t know what he wants yet but he still wants it. Desperately. 

As if proving your point, you lean forward to feel the beautiful way he drags out of you and he seizes the opportunity to bury his face into your cleavage, your corseted dress making it exceptionally easy for him. 

He moans open-mouthed against your chest, his tongue sloppily trying to find your nipple. You move your hips back and down and wildfire bursts in your lower belly when his cock nudges against that sweet spot you’ve been longing for. 

It’s not enough for him - he wants more. He lifts his hips and the tip of his cock drives against your G-spot.

“Oh - fuck. Freidrich. That feels good.”

“So it is okay for me to move too?” he asks.

“Please,” you murmur, closing your eyes and feeling him slide back into you at that perfect angle. 

You don’t need to tell him twice.

He rolls his hips upwards to meet yours as you ride him. You can hear how fucking wet you are.  Everything is slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him and he fucks himself into you.

“So schön,” he grunts and the foreign words sound guttural to your ears. 

“I hope that means ‘good’,” you tease, leaning forward to breathe hot air onto his neck.

“Pretty,” he murmurs in your ear. “So pretty.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage as his hips pick up pace. Fuck - you like him being under you like this. Even here, in the stables where someone might come looking if they notice that Prince Friedrich is missing from his chambers. 

The sound of your stretched, wet cunt fills the stables so obscenely that it peppers shame into your consciousness. But he hears it too. He jerks up so fiercely that his balls slap against you. You suck air in through your teeth at the sharp sting and he looks concerned but you reassure him. “It’s - oh fuck - keep going. Right there.”

You go from slamming yourself down on him to your whole body stiffening, letting him drive up into you as your hot orgasm approaches, creeping over you in pulsing waves. Your walls grip him, tightening and convulsing as -

“I should - tja - remove myself from inside you -” he stops thrusting up into you and you almost wail with disappointment.

“No - fuck - keep going.” What are you saying? You rock your hips and bounce on him, every nerve inside you applauding your decision to ignore your conscience as you manage to hang onto the precipice. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m going to -”

“Fuck it,” you heave, your walls squeezing impossibly tighter as you fuck yourself on him. “Cum in me. I don’t care.” What the fuck are you saying?!

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

It’ll be fine. 

You’ve had an accident or two and have been lucky so far.

You may as well have told the Prince that Christmas had come early. The sight of your flushed face, dishevelled hair and the way your tits are threatening to spill out of your dress with every bounce of your hips drives him wild. 

Frankly, you’re the most deliciously intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced. He just doesn’t have the necessary vocabulary to tell you this in English.

By this point, “Oh gott,” is the only thing he says that you can understand. You hardly hear the rest as he babbles away in German - you can barely hear anything over the pulse of blood pounding in your ears as Friedrich picks up his pace again. Your body locks down around him so tightly you wonder if you might break him. 

“Just like that - fuck, there,” you whimper. He takes the instruction well, driving his cock deep into you - exactly where you need it. The coil of heat in your core tightens impossibly tighter as he chokes words you don’t understand into your ear as he pulls you close to his chest

Maybe one day he’ll teach you what those words mean and you’ll find out that he was telling you what a good girl you are for taking his cock like this.

“Fuck - I’m - that’s it,” you sob, your chest heaving against his fine silk shirt and your fingers entwined in his soft blonde hair. You squeeze around him like a vice. “Friedrich, I -”

“Do it,” he groans. You hadn’t expected him to say that. And certainly not with the commanding tone he chooses. “Let me feel it.”

The coil inside you snaps. A blaze of white-hot fire bursts through you like stitches being ripped. You seize and cry out as your release whips through you with such force that you think you might go cross-eyed. You bury your face into his neck, smelling the rich sandalwood scent splashed on his skin, mixed with his sweat. 

Freidrich keeps his tight hold of your hips, fucking into you even as you shake and tremble. 

“Ich komme,” breathes the Prince. “Ich komme, ich komme.” It only takes a few more rough, slapping thrusts until you don’t have to guess what that means. You feel him finishing inside you, thick ropes of his spend painting your insides. 

You lie here like this for a few moments, collapsed onto his chest and feeling his seed leaking out of you. You feel dizzy as his chest rises and falls underneath you and his fingers tenderly trace lines up and down your back. He closes his eyes, feeling the satin of your gown as his fingertips dance across it.

You could easily fall asleep like this.

Instead, you hoist yourself off him and lie flat on your back as if unattaching yourself from him will place a barrier between you. Put a halt to the immense surge of affection you feel for him in this moment. But he doesn’t let you get far. Prince Friedrich rolls onto his side and cups your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and skirting across your lips before he leans down to kiss you. You close your eyes, letting the kiss dissolve into a wet, lazy haze.

He pulls back and looks down into your eyes. “I promised I would not ask for your hand when this was over. So I have nothing else to say.”

“At least now you are prepared for the social season beginning tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about the season. I want to leave. Tonight. To take you with me.”

“I don’t have the wealth or the beauty for that to be allowed to happen,” you say. “The Queen would never find us to be a suitable match. Never mind Lady Whistledown having a field day.”

“You have more than enough of both for me.”

“For you, Friedrich. But not enough for Prince Friedrich. Not enough for The Crown,” you say, your heart breaking as you do. This was a bad idea, after all. You adjust your gown and get to your feet, pretending to ignore Prince Friedrich’s attempts to help you up.

“And what about my - my seed? What if you’re with child?”

You laugh mirthlessly. “We’d have to be exceptionally unlucky for that to happen on our first try. Put it far from your mind. Go and meet with the diamond of the season tomorrow and all of the ladies queuing up to become the Princess Consort of Prussia. They will make you much happier than I ever could.”

You walk towards the stable door but he takes your hand and gives you your discarded gloves. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Friedrich.” You can’t. You can hear the gossip already. A thousand people whispering behind your back about how you’re not good enough for the Prince. It would be like that every day for the rest of your life in the spotlight if you did marry him. You tear your eyes away from him and open the stable door. 

“Will I ever see you again?” he asks after you.

You pause and turn around. “Perhaps.” You smile at him sadly. “Who knows? If I am with child, maybe you’ll have no choice but to whisk me away back to Prussia and marry me, never to be seen in London ever again. And everyone will wonder why.”

You turn back before he can see your face crumble, leaving the stable door open behind you as Prince Friedrich watches you leave into the night. Your mare whinnies, nudging him gently over her stable door.

Prince Friedrich gives in to her pestering and scratches her neck, much to her enjoyment. Before dawn, he will write a letter. To make sure a stall is prepared for Artemis in the palace stables in Prussia.

Just in case.

[gatorbites-imagines]

HOBiE BROWN NSFW AND SFW HEADCANONS PLS 🙏🙏🙏

LAWD i am soo down bad for that man, good lord. 😩

If hobie tells me to jump from a building, I WOULD AND I'D THANK HIM⁉️⁉️🙏

-🥚 anon (its been so long since we've interacted, but im always lurking on your account and checking them out, but not like your post it because you deserve better :)

Hobie Brown sfw alphabet

Have an alphabet

I am love Hobie Brown :).

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hobie isn’t the most physically affectionate I believe, at least in public. He just doesn’t come across as someone who’s all lovey dovey more the most part. When youre alone though? He flops in your lap, good luck getting out.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

This man would both die and kill for you as your bestie. He definitely corrupts you, or enlightens you, in the ways of being punk and why capitalism sucks ass. DIY makes you clothes, sews spikes into your jackets, and puts patches on your pants for you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man is all hard and sharp edges, it probably takes a while to get used to cuddling with him without being jabbed by his elbows or shoulders. He likes to cuddle after you guys have been together for a while, and he knows he wants to stay with you. Big spoon and little spoon, doesn’t matter.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I don’t think he would want to settle down, at least for a very long time. Settling down would be too boring for him, he likes excitement in his life.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Hobie isn’t one to beat around the bush, so hed just tell you. Get it done and over with.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Honestly? I don’t think Hobie believes in marriage. Its just a way to spend a lot of money for a piece of paper, a part of the machine of society, or something like that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

I think he secretly can be quite gentle, he’s great at being there for you emotionally if you are struggling. He does tend to be quite tough, but if you are struggling hes there for you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes to hug, though it tends to be one armed hug or him throwing his arm over someone’s shoulder. After a long patrol he comes home to you though, and just wants to hold you for a while. Like with cuddling hes all sharp edges, but its comfortable in its own weird way.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He wouldn’t say it very fast, probably a few months since he has to make sure you are the one. He also doesn’t find it that important to say, since he expresses his love through actions.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Hobie doesn’t come across as the jealous type for the most part, he doesn’t go through your things or want you to not have friends who are certain genders. He does make his move though if anyone else is flirting with you. He wouldn’t start fights unless the other person started it first, but he will finish it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses would be intense, especially after you two have grown to truly love one another. He always kisses you like its gonna be your last. He loves kissing you on the lips and your hands, he likes when you kiss his hands too or his forehead when you cuddle.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Hobie is great with kids, he treats them like their own people and respect them, which means the kids love him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He sleeps late most days because he’s out at night being spiderman, so most mornings are spent cuddling as he doesn’t wanna get up just yet.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’s out most nights as spiderman, and when he isn’t you two always go out to do things, like go to concerts, protests, go hang out with other people or just to have fun. Though you also have nights where it’s just the two of you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Hobie would wait a while before opening up about himself, since he’s spiderman and the life he’s lived, he can’t just trust anyone. There most likely still things about him you don’t know, but you know he will tell you if it’s important.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Hobie is pretty patient, for the most part. Though it depends on who you are, if you are a fascist, a racist, or anything like that, he has absolutely no patience.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Hobie remembers most things you tell him because you are important to him, so he makes sure to keep it in mind. He probably remembers the small things you assume he will forget.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Definitely if you guys have had a spiderman kiss. It’s the smaller things, like when you two are sitting together in his apartment and he’s just playing on his guitar when you mess with his wicks, or cuddling, or if you paint his nails for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Depends on the situation, for the most part he knows you can protect yourself. But if he knows you need it, he steps in swinging. He won’t let you get hurt if he has any say. Part of him would also like if you protected him too, even though you both know he can protect himself.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It truly depends on the situation, for the most part he doesn’t put too much effort into dates. It would just be things like you two going out to get some food to go and sitting on a bench and talking, or even bringing it home. Or going to a concert or something like that. Of course, he has his moments, for anniversaries or if he just feels like it, where he makes a bigger deal out of it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His apartment is a mess, like wow. But its like an organized mess. But if you don’t like messes its probably difficult. He most likely has a pair of crust punk pants too, so do with that as you will.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He isn’t concerned at all, he doesn’t believe in vanity and the level of power society puts on appearances. As long as he’s comfortable, he doesn’t care.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

After a while, yeah. After your lives have become very intertwined, he couldn’t imagine his life without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Can do so many different types of art. Sewing, knitting, painting, sculpting, woodwork, the list goes on and on. He’s also so incredibly smart, and has memorized like, all the laws in the area he lives, so he can throw them back in the faces of people who would try to arrest him or someone else.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Vanity, if you care way too much about appearances or what others think about you. If you are super rich, he doesn’t like capitalism, so he probably wouldn’t like a partner who’s involved with it more than normal.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

His sleep habits are as messy as any other spider-person. Goes to sleep late, sleeps late in the morning. Goes longer periods of time without sleeping when working on things, you have to drag him to bed at times.

[maybege]

What If - Part 4

Summary: Mandalore approached and you cannot help but feel like something is about to go terribly wrong.  

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.2k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), (semi-)public sex, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, knotting, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise kink, Angst with a capital A, fluffy fluf

As we say in German “Was lange wärht, wird endlich gut” which is what I am using as my excuse for why this took so long. The truth is: depression is a bitch, real life is a bitch and creativity and time for writing are like the same side of two magnets that do not want to even go near each other. Anyway, we made it!!!

There are a few people I gotta thank for this. First and foremost the iconic, the brilliant @mostly-megan who not only suffers through all the random AU ideas I have (and there are a LOT of them) but also brainstorms with me. The Ragnar Scene and also a very (very!) lovely scene towards the end of this part would not exist without her and for that, I am very grateful. Then, of course, the ever-present, ever-lurking genius that is the Boba Tea Anon who is in the Paz trenches right there with me and encourages me in everything I do (even if it is just a – I promise one day I will do a Lord Huron Paz piece!). Also, a very special shout out to Neyo (@galacticgraffiti) who gave the Mando kids their names, suffers through The Horn Knee with me and is always there to cheer me on. And then, of course, all you Paz girlies (gn) who make me feel like a sane person while I ramble about a faceless man who appeared for a total of 23 minutes (if that) and is – canonically – dead anyway. You make sharing my writing worthwhile in the first place and I will be forever grateful for getting to share my writing with you.

And with that – on to the last part (and the new canon for me lol). Please let me know what you thought in a comment or a reblog!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

There was a certain impatience to him you had not expected at the last meal. When the announcement came that you were approaching Mandalore, Paz – who had spent the dinner between you and Ragnar – had pulled you into his lap, his arms like iron around your body. Ragnar had wandered off to the front with all the other foundlings, expectantly looking up at the clan leaders.

You had turned your face into Paz’s neck, trying to get his scent on you. You could not believe how you had only known this man for a few days – a week, at most! – and yet his scent was the only thing that seemed to calm you down. And it was no different for him.

The alpha’s hand immediately found your scent gland and you shivered as the soft leather brushed over your skin. It did not take long until he pulled his gloves off, settling them into your lap, before resuming his motions.

The nervous energy in the room was palpable but it was practically radiating off him and it inevitably affected you as well. Where you had been excited, if a bit reluctant, a few weeks ago at the prospect of reclaiming Mandalore, now there was only a strange sense of dread in your stomach. One that even the alpha could not dissolve.

“When you wake up tomorrow, some of us will set foot on our homeland for the first time in too many years,” Briggs announced, his serious gaze roaming over the packed hall, “I cannot promise you it will be easy. I cannot promise we will all wake up to the sight of Mandalore. But we will die trying.”

You could see Ragnar looking back at his father who tilted his head. A gesture meant to be reassuring but only resulted in you questioning whether Paz would be one of those dying. You shifted nervously, causing Paz to tighten his hold on your waist.

“Calm down, love,” he rumbled quietly behind you, “It will be alright.”

Forcing yourself to nod, you gripped his large hand tightly, trying to burn into your brain what it was like to touch him,

“Rest well and rest assured that tomorrow will mark the start of a brand new era,” Briggs raised his glass, “And let us toast to our home!”

“To our home!”

Everyone lifted their glasses and the conversations resumed, a constant background roar that reminded you of the countless fates that were tied to the success of this mission. A strange feeling started in your chest, and not the kind that Paz’s presence usually caused.

You shifted again, watching as the crowd dissipated and the foundlings were walked off to bed. Their excited chatter moved down the hall and something cold clenched your heart when you watched Ragnar wave at his father.

Immediately everything quieted down. With everyone returning to their own conversations and the hall being considerably more empty now, Paz did not waste any time. His hands landed on your thighs and you managed a wobbly smile.

 “What is going on in your pretty head?” he asked you, his fingers skimming over your thighs, “You’ve been squirmy all evening.”

“Who says something is on my mind?”, you popped a berry into your mouth, grimacing at the sudden sour taste.

“True,” he laughed, “You might have just spent dinner thinking about when you can finally sit on my cock again.”

“Paz!” you gasped, “you cannot – I mean – what if –“ You glanced around with flushed cheeks, relieved to see that no one had seemed to hear his indecent theory.

He laughed again and the sound made your heart and body melt. “I will never tire of making you flustered,” he murmured, his big hands pulling you closer, “Though I actually would not mind having you cockwarm me tonight, sweet omega,” his fingers brushed the underside of your breasts and you shivered, “I would be lying if I said I could ever get enough of you.”

“I actually had something similar in mind,” you admitted shyly, slipping off his lap and enjoying the way his hands followed you and his body leant into you. As if he wanted to keep touching you, as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart skipped a beat and you smiled.

“I … would like to try something?”

He leant back, his legs spreading with the movement and your teeth dug into your bottom lip at the sight of the obvious bulge in his pants. “Oh yeah, omega, and what would that be?”

You made a few steps away, making sure that your robe (a dark blue, just like his armour) swished around your form as enticingly as possible. Paz’s head turned to follow your movement from your place in front of him to a chair in a dark alcove, dressed in shadows where you knelt down right in front of it.

The big alapha hummed, rising to his feet, knowing exactly what it was you had in mind. “I think I can get behind that idea.”

From the other sounds that were floating through the cantina, you knew that illicit things were already well underway. Most of them likely more graphic and adventurous than what you had in mind. Still, you felt a little nervous at the prospect of sucking Paz Vizsla’s cock.

But for some reason, this was exactly what you needed. You wanted to bring him pleasure, so much pleasure.

You watched as he pulled off his cape, folding it expertly before motioning for you to stand. He dropped it on the floor, his hand steadying your elbow as you sunk down on the soft fabric. “Don’t want you uncomfortable,” he announced, before sitting down in the chair.

He looked big like this, bigger than usual. And oh so confident it already made your panties wet. His knees spread, the trunks he called thigh caging you in and you watched with bated breath as his fingers undid his codpiece, expertly freeing his cock.

He was already hard and dripping precome, the knot at the base slightly inflated and you squeezed your thighs. It was not like you had never seen his cock before and it certainly was not as if he had not fucked you before. Yet, the sheer size of him and the thought of taking him in your mouth overwhelmed you a little.

Where were you supposed to start?

But when one big rough hand closed around his shaft and Paz started to jerk off right in front of you, you could not help but to simply … dive in.

Opening your mouth as far as it would go, you closed your lips around his tip, one hand struggling to fit around him. The grunt he let out, paired with a twitch of his hips, had you smiling around him.

“Stars above,” he cursed, “Warn a man next time, won’t you, love?”

You looked up at him, teary-eyed, while your tongue licked the underside of him. Or at least the part you could reach. He was heavy in your mouth, heavy and big and he tasted of something that made you want more. Slowly, you moved forward trying to take more of him but soon enough, he bumped something at the back of your throat and you sputtered.

Before you could panic about breathing, Paz had pulled out of you, his large hand cupping your cheek while the other was still wrapped around the base of his cock. “Deep breaths, omega,” he soothed you, his hand leisurely stroking himself, “You are doing so good for, trying to take it all.”

“You’re so big,” you marvelled, wrapping your hands around him, “I want it all, alpha, I – Paz, I really want it all.”

“Want my help?” he asked, “Might have to be a little rougher, though, sweet omega, and I can smell how much that turns you on but I need you to tell me – Are you sure?”

You nodded eagerly, darting your tongue out to lick at him. “I am sure, alpha,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the tip, “I promise.”

“If it is too much, tap my thigh three times, understood?”

You nodded again, shifting on your makeshift pillowed. Your thighs were already drenched at this point and you wondered whether you could come just from sucking him off. It seemed like you would be able to do a lot of things when it came to Paz.

His grip on your face loosened just the tiniest bit. “Open up for me,” he ordered, pulling your face towards him, “There we fucking go. Gorgeous.”

“I will never tire of this sight,” he groaned, “You struggling to take my size, trying to be so good for me,” he shifted, his hips surging forward and you smiled with pride when you did not gag this time, “Can I go deeper, love? Is that okay?”

With your position between his legs, your jaw wide open around him, you could not really nod. But Paz seemed to recognize the excited twinkle in your eye because you could hear the grin in his voice when he muttered a “Stars, you’re perfect.”

You took great care to keep your breathing even and through your nose, experimentally swirling your tongue around him every time he pulled out of your mouth. His thrusts grew heavier, his hold on you tighter and you swore you were this close to coming just from the sheer sight of his shaft covered in the sheen of you.

It was not long before he came in thick spurts on your tongue. You struggled to swallow it all, your throat working overtime as you did your best to swallow around him. “Good girl,” he praised you, “My good fucking girl.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as you licked him clean, not quite ready to let go of this intimacy.

His hand came to your chin, gently scooping up some of the come that had spilt from your lips. “Here you go,” he offered his coated thumb and you sucked the digit into your mouth without hesitation. You could never get enough of his taste.

“Let’s retire for the night, love,” he suggested, “We have a long day ahead of us.”

*

By the time you got settled in your bunk, you knew it was only a few hours before everything would start. Before you had to say goodbye.

Paz had excused himself, leaving you to get ready for bed alone before he appeared by your side, dressed completely in his armour.

“Are you okay?”

“Said goodbye to Ragnar,” he explained, sitting down on the little cot, hunching his shoulders over so he would not hit his head.

“Oh.”

Somewhere behind the curtains, someone snored.

Paz grunted when he laid down, his giant arm reaching out and pulling your back to his front.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, “It’s a tight fit.”

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, grunting when he pulled the curtain closed, “I will not spend my last night without my calmer.”

“Aren't you uncomfortable?” you asked, your voice small, “With – with the armours and me and all the …”

“I will not spend my last night without my calmer,” he repeated, leaving no room for doubt. It took a bit of shuffling to turn you around but when you finally were facing him, you already felt much better. You tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent as he wrapped both arms around you.

Your heart was squeezing so hard in your chest that the emotional pain became physical.

What if this was his last night? What if you would never see him again?

And what if you did? Would it ever be like this again? Would he want to keep you as his calmer (or more?) when Mandalore was finally reclaimed?

Paz shifted, his large hands running over your back until one settled at the back of your neck.

“I got you,” he rumbled, “You’ll be safe, omega, I promise.”

You swallowed away the need to tell him that it wasn’t your safety you were worried about.

 *

The next morning was worse. It barely qualified as morning and you were sure you had not found any sleep. You had just been shifting all night from side to side, desperately burying your nose in his neck to soak up every little bit of his scent that he could give you.

You were not sure if Paz had slept either but when the alarms sounded in the room at the same time, it took him a minute to get up. Everyone was shuffling around the packed room silently, most of them already dressed and armoured. Ready to descend to the surface of Mandalore.

Despair was clawing at your insides. You felt like you were watching something from the outside that you knew would fail. That you knew would destroy everything you held close to your heart.

And yet, you watched helplessly as they lined up, preparing to board the ship that would take them into the atmosphere.

It was silent – eerie – as if everyone knew something big was about to happen. And you couldn’t move from his side. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. You needed to be here with him.

You watched as Paz double-checked his weapons and your mouth quirked up as you remembered how the man had seemed like a weapon on his own the very first time you had seen him. And how true it was, now that you saw guns and rifles packed to every piece of his armour that could carry it.

Your smile fell just as quickly as it had appeared. Would this be the last time you got to see him?

You had been scared a lot of times in your life. Like when your parents had taught you how to swim and you had been convinced you would sink to the bottom of the sea. Or when you had taken a bad fall in one of the hiding places and scuffed your knee. But that childish fear of creatures and heights was nothing compared to the existential dread that settled in your stomach.

It wasn’t fear that something could go wrong it was fear that you knew something was going to go wrong.

And could you really risk this?

“You, uh, you will come back, right?” you whispered, already hating how needy you sounded. But you needed to hear him say it. You needed Paz Vizsla’s words to be the ones to tie you to the hope of a future together.

“Someone already scared for me?” Paz tilted his head and while you knew this was supposed to be a joke, his voice did not sound very light. Like he knew it too. That feeling.

“Well, I mean you have Ragnar,” you shrugged, pulling the cloak closer around you, “And I mean your tribe needs you, you are a great warrior and –“

“Exactly,” he interrupted you gently. You watched as he approached you, his steps heavy and measured and you swallowed. “I am a great warrior,” he repeated with his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Which is why I will come back to you.”

“But –“

“Listen to me,” he whispered, his hand cupping the side of your neck, scenting you so gently your eyes fluttered close, “I vow to the stars, I will come back to you, love.”

That was the last thing he said to you before he boarded the ship.

*

If somebody asked you what happened during the time you were waiting, you would not be able to tell them. As soon as Paz embarked on the with the scouting group, it felt like time stood still. You barely knew what you were doing. You were pacing the entire length of the ship it seemed, Ragnar keeping you company for a few of those pacing trips before he distracted himself by playing with the other foundlings.

You tried to approach your feelings rationally. You had spent a lot of your time these past few days in close proximity with Paz. He was an alpha, you were an omega, obviously there were some biological components that could have contributed to your feelings for him.

But that was exactly it. Your feelings …

At the thought of Paz not coming back, it felt like your heart ripped into two. You could not fathom a world without him in it and, more importantly perhaps, you could not fathom your life without him in it. You wanted him to come back and when all the tribes settled in their parts of Mandalore, you wanted to be as close to him as now. You wanted to spend your evening with him and Ragnar and you wanted to know what his days were like, what his role was in his clan.

Whether he wanted to keep you in his life as well.

Waiting was pure torture. Communications were cut and all that remained was the cold silence of the ship. You avoided the cockpit and strategy meetings, Briggs (thankfully) seemed to understand your reluctance and did not press you on the matter. Until Axe Woves came to warn the ship of the Imperial that had settled on the planet and the fight that had broken loose.

That was the meeting you had insisted on attending, hoping that – in whatever capacity – the stoic alpha might drop some comments about the people on the surface.

“Is,” you swallowed, “Is he well?”

The beskar-clad man, much to your frustration, said nothing at all.

Which was not very helpful.

The fight continued and troops were dispatched and you stayed, keeping the foundlings safe and quiet. In fitful dreams, you heard yourself confessing your love to him just before he disappeared never to return again. You woke up with cold sweats until you crawled into his bunk, pressing your nose into his pillow and willing yourself to think of a future in which he came back to you unharmed.

Sometimes, you could hear Sluice and Chants converse about what to do if it all failed. Whether to settle back in Nevarro was another possibility or if the tribes should stick together to find a new home.

All you could think was that you would not leave Paz on this planet.

You could not leave him.

It was morning when the announcement came. You had buried yourself in his cot, his sheets pressed to your nose as you took trembling breaths when the PA system stuttered to life, the mechanical voice echoing through the empty hallways.

You had retaken Mandalore. The air was breathable and you could safely land on the surface to meet the victorious troops.

The joy and excitement that spread through your entire body could not be described. Nothing could happen to wipe the smile off your face as you frantically searched for the one good dress you wanted to wear when you saw Paz again. You wanted to please him and kiss him and tell him you loved him. And maybe, if you were very lucky, he loved you too.

Stars, how you hoped he would.

But that elation stopped short when you set foot onto Mandalore. You could not even look at the surrounding landscapes, the fallen home of your ancestors – when you spotted the group but no Paz. A quick glance around did not reveal him either and suddenly the feeling of dread was back again.

Briggs was standing there too, and you knew the man long enough that when you saw his eyes getting glassy at your sight, he did not need to say anything anymore for the tears to fall.

This was it then.

You always wondered what it would feel like to live with a broken heart. Now you knew.

The pain in your heart was unbearable and you suddenly wished that you had never left the bunk this morning. That you were still curled up in his scent and his blankets without the knowledge that the alpha you wanted to spend your life with was dead.

“Where is my buir?” Ragnar asked somewhere behind you and you could hear it in his voice. How he tried to sound strong but he was just a child. A child without his father.

He made his way to the front and stopped by your side. You put your hands on his shoulder.

“I am sure he will be fine,” you assured him, not believing your own words, “He – he must have … another mission somewhere, right?” you looked to Axe Woves who avoided your gaze, “Right?”

Ragnar grabbed your hand. “Bu said if he is late, I need to distract you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we're family,” he said it so effortlessly, “and because I know he will come back but you might worry and you shouldn’t worry.”

You were not sure what happened first: the stopping of your heart or the break in your breath. Paz told him you were his family? Ragnar considered you … his family?

“Do you wanna play a board game?” the boy asked and the breath rushed back into your lungs, “Bu taught me a few games for when I wait for him to come back.”

“He did?” you asked, your voice faint as you followed him back to where someone had set up a small open-air cantina at the ramp of the ship. You ignored the looks Briggs and Chants gave you. Ignored the way that Bo Katan bowed her head as if to pay respect to you as if you had something to mourn.

Not now, you told yourself as your heart cracked in your chest. Maybe tomorrow you could bury yourself in Paz’s bunk, breathing in his scent until there was nothing left but your own grief.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, Tomorrow I will know he is dead.

*

The sun was setting over the mountains and Ragnar made no sign of stopping the game anytime soon. He had patiently explained the elaborate card game to you before dealing the cards. And then he had continued to play with you the entire day. Sometimes, people joined you for a round or two. The first had been Din Djarin – the man with the green baby. He had not said anything but you could feel the sadness coming off him in waves.

Then there had been The Armourer who had stayed for only one round, occasionally speaking to Ragnar about his helmet ceremony (the first having been interrupted only a few weeks prior). She was followed by Sluice, Bo Katan and finally, Briggs.

“Mind if I join?” the older man had asked, only sitting down when you nodded.

“Not at all,” Ragnar spoke up, relieving you of the to find the energy, “Do you know the rules?”

Briggs had left after two rounds, his warm hand on your shoulder the only indication of what he had come here to say. My condolences for your loss.

The tears had burned hot in your eyes but you forced yourself to keep playing. Ragnar won most rounds and the one he did not, you were fairly sure he lost on purpose. “No worries,” he assured you with childish wisdom, “Sometimes it takes a little longer to get the rules.”

“That is okay,” you forced yourself to smile, “How about we take a break for some food?”

“Good idea!” the boy jumped up, “I will get some of the berries and you stay here and watch the cards!”

Before you could protest, he had raced to the small buffet table.

You both welcomed and feared the moment of solitude this afforded you. It allowed you to take a deep breath, to let your shoulders and your guard fall. Maybe even a few tears if you were quick about it. You did not want Ragner to see you like this. He seemed to be determined that his father was alive and well – that he would return – that you could not bear to be the one to break his heart.

“Bu!” Ragnar shouted and you whipped around immediately. It took you a moment to find Ragnar but when you did, he had his arms wrapped around the legs of a large man. A man dressed in dark blue armour.

 “Paz,” you sighed, feeling tons lighter. Ragnar threw himself at his father who caught him though you did not fail to notice the way his legs almost buckled.

Stars he was hurt.

A new wave of panic washed over you and you did not realise you had stood up until the stoll toppled behind you. Several pairs of eyes were on you but you only cared about one.

Paz set Ragnar down and whispered something to him. You watched as the boy nodded, skipping off to Din and the Armourer. And then Paz walked towards you. Though walk seemed too weak a word for the way his heavy steps came closer and closer, his looming figure soon right in front of you.

Paz was right in front of you.

“You,” he growled, taking your hand without slowing his stride, “Come with me.”

“Paz, what happened?” you asked, trying to look him over, “Are you hurt? Did – Were those Imperials we spotted on the radar? Axe Woves and Briggs and – oh stars, we need to get you checked out and wait – are you bleeding? Where does it hurt maybe I can –“

A door swished open and you glanced around in confusion. This was not the infirmary. This was not even a proper room if the cleaning supplies on the shelves were anything to go by.

“Paz, you need – oh!” your hands gripped his shoulders tightly when he lifted you onto a surface. Was it a table? A counter? Stars, you could not bring yourself to care. Not when he was standing in front of you, panting like he had the fight of his life behind him.

Which he probably did.

Your heart clenched again, from fear or joy you could not tell.

His large hand fiddled with your dress and with a rip, your entire front piece was hanging off you in tatters.

“Alpha,” you cried, moving your hands from his shoulders to his chest, “Alpha, are you all right? I was so worried.”

The big man stepped between your open legs and you took a deep breath. The smell of adrenaline burned your nose but you could not help but notice the arousal that was in the air as well. He was angry and determined and the way he did not even look at his hands when he tugged on his belt made you glad you were already sitting down.

“Keep calling me that and I will be,” he grunted, opening the snaps of his armour and finally his fly.

Your eyes were fixated on his hand around his cock. “Pull down your dress,” he instructed instead, “I want to see your tits.”

You hurried to do so, almost ripping the fabric entirely in the process but you could not care less. Not when you had your dream of an alpha standing between your open legs, getting ready to fuck you. The ruined fabric pooled around your hips and the cool air made your nipple pebble. But then Paz was right there, the bulk of his body between yours and you could feel his cock against the inside of your thigh.

He pushed the tip of his cock against your folds, slowly circling your clit and you whimpered. Why did everything he did feel so good? “Ready?” he asked, spreading your wetness around and you found yourself wishing that you could see. That you could see how big he was against you, how his hand gripped himself, how his brows might furrow in determination and the set of his lips as he pushed inside you.

But you could not have everything in life. And for this moment, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls was enough. He was here, he was alive and he made you feel so stars forsaken good.

“Fuck,” you sighed, “Paz …”

“That’s good, huh?” he grumbled, slowly pulling out before pushing back in. You could feel your walls ease around him, your juices covering his shaft and the gland on your neck pulsed with the need to have him scent you.

He remained still for a few moments and you took a deep breath, breathing him in again and trying to get yourself to realize that he was alive. Your alpha was alive.

Paz started to move, then, and slowly pushed inside you again before building up a steady rhythm that had him deep, deep inside you. And all you could think, between bouts of pleasure, was that he was alive. Paz was alive.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you gripped the edge of the table, overcome with emotion, “A-alpha, I was so scared. “

A particularly hard thrust had your hands fly around his neck. “I was protecting you,” he replied, his voice shaking, “You were never in any danger, omega, I would not allow it.”

“I wasn’t scared for me, you di’kut,” you cursed as you hastily wiped away the tears streaming down your face, “I was scared for you!”

Paz grunted at your admission, pushing inside you again and pulling you as close as he could with the armour in the way. “And I was scared of never seeing you again,” he confessed into the darkness between your faces, “That I was breaking my promise to you.”

“Wh-What,” you gasped, feeling his cock grow inside you, “Alpha, what is happening?”

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, “Sorry, ‘mega, sorry, I didn't mean to – oh shit, love, you gotta stop squeezing me.”

Easier said than done. In fact, it seemed impossible. Because as soon as you realized that it was his knot swelling inside of you, all you could think about was what it would be like to be knotted by him. Which turned you on beyond belief.

The mental image of him filling you up to the brim, the giant size of him staying inside you, made your walls flutter and your high approach so much faster. Paz’s movements did not stop and you could feel the ring at his base growing and growing, catching on your entrance with every thrust and making you yearn to keep him inside.

“Alpha, will you – Can you – oh!” he hit that spot inside you again that made your blood sing and you fell back against the wall, completely at his mercy.

And then the light went out.

Your body tensed with fright and you squeaked, thinking something had gone horribly wrong. But Paz did not seem deterred and you faintly remembered that the light switch was somewhere on his side of the room.

There was a sound you could not pinpoint, followed by a loud clatter and then his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you to him and you squirmed at how he folded you in half, his cock still nestled deep inside you and then he was … kissing you.

You gasped, the feeling of his lips familiar against yours and everything you had dreamed of.

“Fuck it feels good to fill you up,” he murmured, the praise making your cheeks warm.

Your legs were still trembling around his hips and you tightened your hold around his neck. Your nose bumped against his scent gland. Add that to the feeling of his smile against your shoulder and even retaking Mandalore could never rival the feeling of being scented by him.

“That good, huh?” he teased you, his lips moving against your skin.

He had some stubble that tickled your sensitive skin and you gasped, the sensation opening you up even more.

And then he pushed inside you one last time as you came around him. The knot at his base swelled with no signs of stopping, locking you together as he filled you up. You shivered at the feeling of him twitching inside you, spurts of come filling you up in a way you had never experienced before, increasing the pressure inside you that made your walls clench. He continued to rut against you, causing your clit to rub against his pelvis again and again, prolonging your peak.

After what felt like an eternity, you came down from your high, relishing in the feeling of him still pulsing inside of you. It was strange, something you had never experienced before, but the closeness made you sigh contentedly against his lips.

Paz was quiet save for a few grunts, his hands grabbing your hips, keeping you as close as possible.

“I’ve never been knotted before,” you admitted between kisses.

“Really?” Paz asked, his mouth pausing on yours, “How does it feel?”

“It feels kinda nice, alpha,” you whispered, pulling his face closer to yours again.

Paz did not say anything for a moment, his laboured breath loud in the small room. Then his hands cupped your face and you could feel his eyes on you and you wondered if he was able to see you despite the darkness. Probably not, after all, it was his visor that usually enabled him to do so. But he made you feel seen with how his thumbs brushed over the apples of your cheeks, still wet with tear tracks or how his lips softly landed on yours.

“I don’t think I told you yet,” he said against your mouth, “But you are beautiful. To me, you are the – the most stunning omega I have ever seen. When I was down there – when I … I dreamt of what it would be like to see you with my own eyes.”

A flutter started in your chest. An awful flutter of hope that had you thinking of futures beyond the next few days. He could not mean what you thought he meant, right?

“But you helmet –“ you started, trying to rationalize away the hope in your voice.

But Paz had other plans. “I want to court you,” he said, sounding as determined as ever, “Stars, I want to properly court you, love, whatever that entails for your clan but I asked Briggs and –“

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure that I did everything right,” he explained, his hand warm on your back, ��So I asked him about any customs I might have to know, that last night before we left and – and for a second there it looked like I would never get to ask you. But I can, love, I can ask you now. Will you let me court you, ‘mega? Will you let me spend the rest of my life with you and Ragnar and all the other foundlings the stars let us have?”

“You – you want children, too?” you asked, feeling like the breath was stolen out of your lungs, “M-more than Rganar, I mean?”

You could feel his smile against your neck, the tip of his nose buried in the valley beneath your ear. “Course I do,” he confirmed, “Ragnar is the biggest gift of my life, I won't say no to that joy again.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest and you could feel your walls clench around him. Paz moaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Is that a yes, then?” he asked carefully, his hand wandering up to cup the back of your neck. He moved away from you,

“Yes,” you breathed out with the biggest smile on your face, “Yes, Paz.”

The scent that surrounded you made you euphoric and you realized that it had been Paz all along. That sweet scent that made your heart beat faster and a smile appear on your lips? Paz fucking Vizsla.

“Open your eyes, mesh’la,” he asked you quietly, his breath warm on your face, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

And you did. Your eyes blinked open and it took you both an eternity and a second to get your eyes used to the seemingly blinding light of the storage room. But then your eyes met his and you saw Paz Vizsla for the first time.

He had dark eyes, just like you had daydreamed, and his hair looked just as soft as it had always felt. It was matted to his forehead in places and he looked … exhausted, like he had not slept in days. There were bruises on his cheekbones and you could see some dried blood and dirt on his jaw. But all of that was overshadowed by the brightest, biggest grin on his face.

It made the corners of his eyes crinkle and you could not help but smile back, absolutely in awe of the man in front of you. What were you supposed to say the first time you saw the face of the man you had fallen hopelessly in love with?

“You are handsome,” is what you settled on finally, carefully brushing your fingertip over his crooked nose.

He huffed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Thank you, my love,” he rumbled and your heart skipped a beat at him calling you his. Because you were, truly, whether you had realised it before or not, his.

“I love you,” you blurted out, feeling oddly shy.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “There is no version of this life in which I do not love you.”

“You will have to tell me about your scars,” you whispered, your eyes roaming over his face, catching on one that cut through his eyebrow, “Every single one.”

“I will,” he promised, kissing you again, “We have a lifetime for it.”

[meowcatmutie]

hello. here's a post about homestuck characters' typing styles, but mostly focusing on punctuation because that's something i see a lot of people get wrong when they write homestuck characters

read this post if you care about writing them perfectly! if you don't give a shit about this feel free to scroll past. I'm very autistic about all of the little things in homestuck like this so maybe i'm the only one who always notices these things. idk! i want to talk about this anyway

john/june types in all lowercase and generally uses all proper punctuation.

dave almost never uses punctuation or capitalization! this is very important! he does not use apostrophes or periods practically ever unless it's in an ellipsis (instead of separating his sentences with a period, he just writes each sentence in a new message), commas very rarely, and he only uses question marks when they improve the clarity of a sentence (i.e. if it wouldn't have been easily understood as a question otherwise). he may use exclamation points or all caps if he is shouting, but he doesn't shout often. he also very occasionally writes a word in all caps for EMPHASIS.

jade almost never uses apostrophes or periods (unless in an ellipsis), and types in all lowercase unless she is shouting. she DOES use question marks and commas, and she uses exclamation points liberally.

rose, dirk, and jane all use perfect grammar. this is pretty obvious.

jake capitalizes the first letter of each sentence and puts a period (or whatever else) at the end, but in between those there is Nothing. no commas or apostrophes, and he doesn't capitalize proper nouns.

roxy types in all lowercase, doesn't use apostrophes or periods (unless in an ellipsis), only sometimes uses question marks, and uses exclamation points frequently. her typing style is the least consistent otherwise.

aradia's typing style is very similar to dave's, but with slightly more exclamation points.

mostly everything about tavros's typing style is pretty obvious and also not all that consistent so i don't have much to say about this, except that the word "i" is always lowercase, and he uses apostrophes in their normal places.

sollux uses periods at the ends of his sentences, but he uses apostrophes inconsistently.

karkat uses all proper punctuation, but on rare occasions might omit the period at the end of a sentence.

nepeta doesn't use apostrophes or periods (except in an ellipsis), DOES use commas, and uses exclamation points VERY frequently. also, she uses cat puns, but she doesn't shoehorn a cat pun in every 3 words, and she doesn't tend to replace very common words with cat words. (yes, this is about people having her replace "you" with "mew". it bothers me)

kanaya is pretty obvious, but i'm going to iterate anyway that she almost never uses any punctuation at all.

terezi DOESN'T use periods (except in an ellipsis), and frequently omits apostrophes, but not always. also, most people know this already, but sometimes i see people get it wrong, so i will note that she only replaces the letters A, I, and E with 413.

vriska uses perfect grammar and uses exclamation points liberally. her usage of 8s to replace letters is typically confined to only B and eight/ait/ate sounds, she ONLY replaces other vowels with 8s when she is very agitated/angry/upset. often, when an "eight" sound is in the middle of a word, the T will be retained, e.g. "explan8tion", "rel8tionship", "n8ture".

equius uses almost perfect grammar, except that he ALWAYS omits punctuation at the ends of his sentences.

gamzee uses all proper punctuation.

eridan NEVER uses any punctuation.

feferi mostly uses perfect grammar. obviously she uses a lot of exclamation points too, because she is -EXCIT-ED.

thx for reading. if you ask me to beta your fic i will do it btw

[lunarheslwt]

28th appreciation fic recs: January edition

Hi! Welcome to the first fic rec list of 2024! I wanted to put together all the fics I've read and loved over January for this month's 28th appreciation, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments, and sharing any fic posts!

🌸 Morning comes by @nooradeservedbetter

(5k / E / Sub Top L, Dom bottom H)

The stranger gestures at what they’re wearing, and oh, it’s not a shirt, it’s a white crop top, black lettering star against it. It says I ♡ SUBMISSIVE MEN in bold, capital letters.

Thoughts: we simply need more pwps that explore dynamics like this, this was delicious, and I looove how natural the chemistry between them felt. So good.

🌸 Dreaming of a green Christmas by @hellolovers13

(4k / E / Size queen L, xmas smut)

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

Thoughts: its never too late to indulge in some christmas smut, its got size queen L ffs what are you waiting for!! Its hot, its a snack to be devoured, it's a little gift, in short.

🌸 Sweet baby by @jishlerfics

(5k / E / kink discovery)

“Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?” Taking a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

Thoughts: this is part one of a series that I'm excited to read. This is perfect and sweet and hot in every way possible, i loved it so much.

🌸 Revelatory experience by @justanothershadeofblue

(3k / E / religion kink)

Harry's not sure if it's the sound of Louis' voice, the thrill of the forbidden, or just that he's really fucking horny, but he's about to find out how well the velvet cushion in this dark little wooden booth hides a stain.

Thoughts: this was so fucking hot. Like, they're in a confession booth. That should be enough of an appetizer for y'all to go read this!

🌸 Jaerie's Kinktober: Sounding by @jaerie

(3k / E / sounding)

Louis has been casually dating Harry for a while, but tonight he plans to stay in for a much needed stress relief night of self love. He unexpectedly shares that particular love with Harry. When they discover this, they go all in.

Thoughts: so hot. We need more sounding fics. Meanwhile, do yourself a favor and indulge in this. Also love the lil bit of imperfect sex at the end.

🌸 With a sea view by @greeneyesfriedrice

(5k / E / boat smut)

Stepping onto the main deck, Harry grabs a maroon towel, squeezing all the water he can out of his hair, though it’s similar to how a dog dries off after a bath. He doesn’t bother drying the rest of his body, that’s what suntanning is for. He places the towel into a small bin and looks around. Time to find Louis.

Thoughts: so goddamn hot. But also very sweet and they're so in love which is a god tier combination. Laur never has a miss.

🌸 Heaven in these sheets by @thepolourryexpress

(3k / E / bunny! hybrid Louis)

“Bunny wants attention, hm?” Harry murmurs, turning his head and brushing his cheek against Louis’. Louis lets out a pleased noise at the feeling, ear flopping over Harry’s head as the man moves. “Please,” Louis pouts lightly, scraping his nails gently over Harry’s chest. “C’mon.” Or, Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

Thoughts: bunny Louis is so sweet and precious, harry is the ever doting bf, and it just makes for delicious smut that also just made me feel!!!!

🌸 Mr Tomlinson by @canonlarry

(4k / E / CEO omega L)

Louis is a billionaire CEO who makes grown men cry and rival companies crumble. He's also an omega. Harry is the quiet cupcake of a man he calls his alpha and the only one who gets to see Louis as anything less than fearsome

Thoughts: powerful ceo to all, gets taken care of by partner behind doors is such a fav trope of mine and this one is SO good. I loved this one so so much.

🌸 it's always me that ends up getting wet by @loveislarryislove

(2k / E / role play, dubcon fantasy)

As Louis takes a step towards the stairs to look for his husband, his eye lands on the small round table at the foot of the staircase. It's thin and spindly, so they don't usually use it for much besides decoration. But today, there are three objects sitting on top of it. A blue policeman's hat. A small, silver key, that Louis recognizes as belonging to a pair of handcuffs. And a note, written in Harry's distinctive handwriting: I'm waiting for you downstairs ;)

Thoughts: this was so insanely good, I love a good roleplay fic and I ate this up. Every single word in this was addictive.

This is a short list, bc I've been really busy and tired. But I hope I get to read more next month. Anyways If you check these out, give these works some love. Fic writers I love youuuu X

[rowebug]

What exactly do u like about walle (i’ll draw u eve if i ever find the time)

BOY.

the topic of "what would happen to earth if all humans disappeared" has always been interesting to me, and although its not technically the main focus, its one factor that intrigued me.

i love how its a great example of show, don't tell. wall e and eve don't have humanoid facial features, but they still convey so much emotions through their body language and eyes

i love how it takes a jab at capitalism and overconsumption

i love how this movie is animated. i love looking at the little details- especially in wall e's home (truck? YOU PROBABLY KNOW WHAT I MEAN). i love looking at all the little trinkets he's collected. i like looking at the layout of the axiom. ALSO the space scenes (wall e on his way to the axiom and the 'define dancing' scene.

i love the way they show how wall e influenced the people (and robots) he interacted with. he shared his own curiosity with them, and helped them realize that there is always room for exploration.

i LOVE the soundtrack. i listen to it on spotify when I'm studying, cleaning, or even just to sleep. i love listening for recurring themes, and listening to the instruments that play. define dancing is absolutely stellar, and bubble wrap is such a fun track to listen to.

and i absolutely adore both wall e and eve's development throughout the film. the way wall e looks at eve with puppy eyes. i love that it's wall e's silliness that intrigues eve. i love wall e's excitement in showing her the things that he loves, including his favorite movie. THE SCRIPT. OH HOW I LOVE THE SCRIPT.

this scene is so cute. wall e you stupid little lovesick fool ❤️❤️ (that's me. I'm the lovesick fool)

even though he annoys eve at first, she still cares about him. she still makes sure he's okay. its so funny to see eve try to tell wall e to stay put, but he's a stubborn little shit (affectionate) and tries to help anyway. when wall e gets freaking tased, and his memory chip (?) is messed up, she chooses helping him over her own directive. wall e becomes her priority, her directive. once he's okay then she can continue on.

holo detector scene :(( wall e gets crushed and eve wasn't right there to help. even when the plant successfully registers, it doesn't matter, because HEY is he wasn't fucked up before HE SURE IS NOW. there is such an urgency in the way she fixes wall e (fantastic scene by the way. it really is satisfying to watch and listen to).

unfortunately, in the process of fixing him, he lost what made him special; his humanity. all his trinkets are just more pieces of debris to throw out. they hold no importance to him anymore. hello dolly is just another sound in the environment for him to ignore. and eve is just another life form to not bother. even if it seems like she is trying to interact with him, the best thing is to move on and follow his directive. it's heartbreaking to watch honestly. eve desperately trying to get him to remember anything, the little moments they shared, anything from before. she even holds his hand (he doesn't technically have any but ykwim), but he still remains soulless. when it seems clear that wall e isn't coming back, she gives up. she got to fix him. at least she got to know him. now it's time to move on.

eve gives wall e a little kiss/spark as a goodbye and moves away. surprise surprise, because we can't just leave the kids watching devastated, wall e comes back 🎉🎉🎉

lets assume that the spark sort of rebooted wall e into remembering, it doesn't matter, because now he's back, and they both have feelings for each other. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!! *explodes into a bunch of glitter particles*

I love wall e's character, he is such a boyfail i lob him 😢😢 he's passionate about collecting little trinkets, he's a curious little guy, he's clumsy as hell and he's somehow the last one standing. autistic wall e is so important to me chat HELP MEE

eve is such a girlboss and we love her for it. polite little lady I LOVE HER DESIGN. she gets frustrated easily and honestly, I can relate. she's really determined in whatever it is she needs to do and she DOES IT. if you asked her to find someone she'll do it, no matter how much legal trouble she gets into. it's so silly how she carries wall e hebwjevwjev

i adore their love story so much eve and wall e are the literal embodiment of me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic. they are my favorite ship that falls under the girlboss x boyfail trope. THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME I LOVE THEM WITH ALL MY HEART ❤️❤️ they really are my comfort ship of all time nobody will ever make me hate walleve <3333

[hazyaltcare]

Typing quirk suggestions based on the...

🌐 Old Internet 🌐

Character Adjustments

Alternate between capital and lowercase letters. Ex. lIkE tHiS

Replace "a" with "4" or "@"

Replace "e" with "3"

Replace "i" with "1"

Replace "o" with "0"

Replace "s" with "2" or "z"

Use emoticons instead of emojis. Ex. ":-)" instead of "🙂," and ":'-(" instead of "😥."

Word Adjustments

Replace "apocalypse," "end times," and similar phrases with "TEOTWAWKI."

Replace "argument," "debate," and similar phrases with "flame war."

Replace "babies" with "bbz."

Replace "disgusting," "gross," and similar terms with "bletch" or "bletcherous."

Replace "elite" with "1337."

Replace "hacker" with "h@xx0r."

Replace "hate" with "h8."

Replace "internet" with "World Wide Web," "interwebz," or "the information superhighway."

Replace "link" and other terms for a web address with "hotlink" or "hotspot."

Replace "living room," "meeting room," and similar phrases for places people meet up socially with "chatroom"

Replace "looking," "searching" and similar terms with "surfing."

Replace "lose" with "chomp."

Replace "new," "unexperienced," and similar phrases with "n00b."

Replace "popular," "famous" and similar terms with "viral."

Use verb doubling at the end of conversations and for exclamations. Ex. "Bang, bang!", "Chomp, chomp!", or "Quack, quack!"

Text Prefixes & Suffixes

🌐 <text>

🦡🦡🦡🦡 <text> 🍄🍄

< <text> >

<text> 🚁ℝ𝕆𝔽𝕃

<text> 💣.ᴄᴏᴍ

Phrases To Use

"All your base are belong to us" A phrase from a popular meme from the 00s and early 10s, this could be used to express triumph or ownership.

"g0t pwned!" A competitive phrase that can be used as a warcry.

"Gigathanks." A phrase that means "Thank you very much."

"I can has [insert subject here]?" Based on a popular meme from the 00s and early 10s, this phrase can be used to ask for something.

"S!MT!!OE!!!" An exciteable phrase that means "Sets my teeth on edge!"

"Soi soi soi--" Use this as a replacement for keyboard smashing. It's a reference to the meme "My ROFLcoptor goes soi soi soi soi soi soi soi soi soi soi s"

"You, sir/ma'am/gentleperson, have won the internet!" A congratulatory phrase and compliment.

"Want to F2F?" A phrase that means "Would you like to meet up in-person?"

"Watch your nettiquette." A phrase that reminds the subject to mind their manners.

General Quirk Suggestions

Use slang that has generally been used in the 80s, 90s and 00s! A lot of that was also used on the internet at that time and can help sell the era you are going for.

Mod Haze (⭐️Hailey)

[nattaphum]

Thingthinkthing: "Be on Cloud" joins hands with China's Asian Talent Management Agency "Uni-icon Entertainment" to push Mile Phakphum and Apo Nattawin to go international to join the S Level project. Prepare to have a Mega Project series or movie in the Land of the Dragon

‼️‼️‼️‼️

Uni-Icon is a Southeast Asia Talent Agency Launched by iQIYI

Within 2023, Mile and Apo will fly to China for a movie / series that requires high capital and has famous A list actors. The producer has written a special script for both of them to get a good and appropriate role. (source)

What S-level means: On the Chinese side, series grading is generally divided into A (best) B C D E considering production/story and other elements as a deciding factor.

The S/S+ is a giant form series.

As for the artists who will play in the S/S+ series, they’re often selected according to: image, ability to perform, popularity and market influence. Therefore, artists who are selected to participate in this level of projects are guaranteed to be the number one.

Apo’s comment on the big news: I am very excited. This is a project that has been prepared for a long time, and I am very grateful to all the staff of BOC and the Chinese partner company for working hard together for many days and nights, writing press releases and releasing news crazily. I am proud to be one of the few people who has this opportunity, and I will do my best. I also love every step that BOC and I have chosen together, allowing me to do what I truly want to do. ☺️☺️☺️

According to a related article, there are plans for Mileapo for a variety show as well.

[bil-daddy]

I don't suppose you have any advice on how to beat insomnia do you? You seem like a nice, upright fella. Maybe you can help. I stay up all night looking at Good Omens stuff on Tumblr. It's a problem. Sort of.

I'm going to overlook you calling me a four letter word (n-i-c-e), and still try to help you, anon.

There's lots of advice for beating insomnia; turning off screens an hour before bed, not consuming any caffeine after 3pm, taking melatonin, doing at least thirty minutes of exercise then relaxing with a shower. But you've probably already heard all that before, and likely tried at least some of it.

So here's what I'll recommend. If Good Omens is keeping you up, then let Good Omens put you to sleep.

Put away your phone/ tablet/ computer, turn out the lights, and lie in bed thinking about Good Omens. Only Good Omens. Do not let your mind wander. If you start to think about anything else, get your thoughts back on the Good Omens track.

Close your eyes and start visualizing/retelling yourself the plot, scene by scene, in order. Or the plot of your favorite fic. (You could also plot your own fic, but that's more likely to keep you up writing all night.) If you get distracted or lost, start over from the beginning. (Which in this case is the Beginning with a Capital B)

The objective is to focus linearly on the plot, blocking out all other thoughts, until you fall asleep. It's like counting sheep (or goats), except more tailored (or cobblered) to your interest. Interesting enough you can focus on it, but not exciting or new to keep you awake.

It works for me (sometimes) Can't promise it'll work for you, but give it a try if you like. Hope it helps.

And, of course, have an ox rib (platonic) (just don't eat it right before bed)

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 2 - West Ham Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 1 Summary: What happens when a chance meeting happens again (and again)? Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and outrageous flirting 🤷🏻‍♀️ Author's Notes: It took me over a month to write (blame the capitalism and full-time work) and it's twice as long (over 8k), but it's here, eh? These two did not seem keen on shutting up and the result is chaotic, but then that's London for you. It also features a cheeky POV change because there's no rules and everything is a simulation :) Also, if anyone's interested, the dance she mentions in scene no 1 and shows Neil is 'Cupid's Variation' from Don Quixote ballet. As seen for example here. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

To say you have not thought about Neil every day since that encounter would be a lie. As it turned out, he was wrong. It was not difficult to remember him, tormented daily by the memories of that exact shade of blue or the way the strands of his hair fell over his forehead. Rarely the one to lie to yourself, you did not even try to get rid of those thoughts. After all, it was harmless. Hopefully.

A week later, on another dreary Wednesday morning, when the only reason for excitement was this autumn’s production of Don Quixote and the roll-call announcement in your inbox, you made it to the St. John’s Wood station with a slight shortness of breath. The morning walk was always an opportunity to admire how ordinary neighbourhoods of West Kilburn transformed into the poshness of Maida Vale and St. John’s. Alternatively, it was a way to check whether your fitness levels were still up to par. That morning, it was the second option.

Happy to blame the annoyingly engaging 5 minutes crafts video that popped up on your timeline just as you were supposed to be getting dressed, you shouldered your way past lingering tourists and through the ticketing gates. That was the only issue you had with the station. Its proximity to the most famous crossing in all of England (if not all of Europe) meant that day in and day out, hundreds of clueless individuals stood in your path. The best you could do was not trample them as you rushed to the platform, all too aware of the passing minutes.

Luckily, the gods of TfL were merciful. As soon as you stepped onto the platform, that familiar rush of warm air from the tunnels made the hair sweep into your face. You breezed through the rehearsed choreography – locating the door, letting the disembarking crowd through, stepping into the cart. It was easy, almost done with your eyes closed.

That Wednesday morning, you were glad you did not test the theory and kept your eyes open. The cursory glance around the cart got cut short when your gaze landed on the familiar dirty-blonde head, bowed over a book. You froze, eyes already doing their job by following the outline of the man to make sure it was not just your wishful thinking. Once you did it twice over, you knew it was no mistake. It was Neil. Sat by the window, blissfully unaware of your staring.

And you did stare. At the sharpness of his profile, the broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitting shirt and the strong forearms, again bared by the rolled-up sleeves. Although it had only been a week, you drank the sight of him like a woman parched. Without letting yourself think too long of the consequences, you crossed the aisle and sat down next to him:

“I haven’t forgotten you. Are you proud?” with the breath still hitched in your throat, you watched Neil react.

He froze, the book almost slipping out of his loose hold. As if controlled by strings, his head swivelled towards your voice at an alarming speed. You watched as he scanned your face, clearly going through the same crisis as you did. Only once you saw Neil relax and not eager to bolt, you sagged into the plastic chair and offered him your most innocent look. Neil’s responding smile felt like sunshine hitting your face on a cold winter afternoon. You were happy to let the warmth seep into your bones.

“I’m mostly flattered, but you’re bad for my ego,” he gave you another once-over, this time lingering on your body.

It was more than welcome. You shot Neil a smirk, already ecstatic with the turn of the conversation. Although, there were evident falsities within his words. There was no big ego to conquer. You could see as much in that persisting disbelief in his eyes, the margin of distrust Neil kept throughout the last conversation. All because he did not seem to see himself the way he was. The way everyone else saw him.

“Nah, you’re fine,” using the observation as an inspiration, you reached out to pat his knee and lowered your voice to a faux-seductive timbre, “Actually more than fine,” admittedly, it was another corny line.

But if it worked.

When he blushed, you barely resisted the urge to pump your fist. Neil knew that was the intent anyway if his narrowing stare was anything to go by. He stayed silent for a beat, giving you a chance to stare. To trace his features with your gaze, substituting for a careful touch of your fingertips. It was too early to do that. Yet. But it did seem like the magnetism of last week’s meeting did not disappear, leaving you both arrested in each other’s orbit by the sheer force of gravity. A force you did not want to resist.

“Do you want to make me blush?” Neil’s question made you blink back the thoughts and admire your success.

That rosy-cheeked glow only added to the overall striking looks. And did not stop you from getting in too deep. That had already happened.

“Very much so,” shooting him your best innocent smile, you carefully lowered the tote bag onto the floor between your knees and looked around the cart, ending it on Neil again, “Fancy seeing you here,” the resulting smile was enough of a reward for the pain of another weak pickup line.

On the edge of your consciousness, you registered that the train was still moving as it should. The tourists were still starting to crowd the space. But it was hardly noticeable.

“Likewise,” Neil seemed to consider something for a beat, then he extended his hand towards you in a greeting. An echo of that first handshake, “Hi,”

Not hesitating to join him halfway, you wrapped his palm in a tight hold, letting your thumb draw invisible lines along the back of his hand.

“Hi,” like then, the handshake lasted too long, but none of you cared to cut it short. Neil loosened the hold first, his long fingers trailing over the back of your hand and the length of your digits before dropping away. The slight catch in your voice was masked easily by the next question, “Soo, is this like… Are you going to work?” you eyed his outfit again, taking note of the leather laptop bag on the floor.

It seemed clear, but if the years of commuting by the London Tube taught you anything, it was that almost nothing was what it seemed.

“Yeah, I am,” Neil breezed through your doubts with a decisive nod.

The unspoken was easily detected. A better woman would have probably let it be, ignoring the omission with the hopes that the conversation partner was too shy to disclose the information. Like a normal almost-stranger. But you were never the better woman.

“Where do you work?” you leaned in closer, the waft of his cologne overwhelming the senses.

The masking conspiratorial grin must have appeared manic. It was hard to tell whether that alone was the reason for Neil’s passing discomfort.

“I’d rather not say,” he shifted in the seat, averting your gaze, “It’s… complicated,” the apologetic tone only added fuel to the curiosity.

Now you had to know. One way or another.

“Can I guess?” your mind was already buzzing with possibilities.

Not only was he stunning, but mysterious. To not let that get into your head you reached into the tote and dug out a water bottle. One greedy sip hardly did what it needed to do. And you nearly choked during it. A heavenly omen? You did consider that, in between Neil’s intense stare and his hesitant nod.

“Good luck with that,” the scepticism in his gaze felt like a challenge.

One that you were happy to take up. You leaned back as far as the seat confines allowed and measured him critically. The elegant clothes suggested it was unlikely Neil was working at a shopfloor level. As did the “put together” appearance, with the only flaw being the unkempt hair falling into his eyes. Still, the possibilities were endless.

You decided to start with something safe. Probable.

“Are you a stockbroker?” on its own accord, the look of distaste passed through your face, twisting the features into something almost comical.

It was hardly your fault. It was the years of frustrating men reacting to the news about your job with a bemused smirk, eager to spend the next 10-20 minutes proving the Arts were dead and the ballet was a farce. A hobby, they said. Most of those men were passionate about the stock exchange. Oh, so eager to spend their days screaming at the screens displaying rates and figures you did not care to decipher. Somehow, it was you who was in the wrong. You were the naïve one.

It was impossible to say whether Neil could read all of that from the fleeting look on your face, but the amusement in his eyes suggested it was likely.

���Christ, no,” he shook his head vehemently, revealing his feelings towards the occupation.

Somehow, it felt like a relief. That tiny dose of joy was enough to embolden you further. To let go of the remaining apprehensiveness and let your mouth do what it did best. It happened often enough to be an issue. Because once you stopped caring what you said or how the other person reacted, nothing stopped your mouth from speaking whatever it wanted.

Most of the time, that meant utter bullshit.

“Alright… A priest?” as soon as the question gained voice and sound, you knew it was one of those times.

That, however, did not make you want to take it back. How could you, after seeing the bewilderment on Neil’s face, which beat any expression you had ever seen him make?

“… What is going on in that head of yours?” he stared at you with concern, only making that laughter bubbling in your chest become a fact.

Admittedly, the image was hilarious. Neil, as a member of the clergy, was a concept that emoted thoughts you did not dare dwell on. At least not now. Not when you were right next to him. Later? Maybe.

“Nobody knows,” you shook it off with a mysterious look thrown his way and rested your chin in your fist, positioned perfectly to fix your unwavering gaze on him, “So, I guess it’s a no, then?”

Just in case that it was a yes.

“No,” Neil spoke faster than you deemed possible, quickly keying into the breathless laugh breaking on your face, “I mean, yes, it’s a no,” the decisive shake of the head was enough for you to drop it. If he let you, “Is that a kink thing, or…?”

The inquisitive look was turned onto you. There was no chance of escaping the blue eyes that stared you down. Yet again, you felt like he could see the depths of your soul. And judging from the smile hiding in the corner of his lips, he liked what he saw.

But that did not mean you were happy to give him quite that much.

“I wouldn’t tell you if it was. Not yet, anyway,” you hoped the promise within that sentence was clear.

Neil’s widening grin confirmed it. You winked at him, sealing the pledge for future use.

“Are you also going to work?” Neil’s question acted like a needed change of scene.

A naturally occurring shift in the atmosphere. You took it with both hands open wide:

“To the dance studio. I got a part in autumn’s production of Don Quixote. The Cupid, to be exact. That means the next few months, I might as well live in there,” the heavy sigh was only half of an act.

But it was nice to share the news. To boast to someone who listened and seemed to care. Because the thrill of that first look at the cast list and seeing your name there was still burning.

“Congrats. That sounds like a big deal,” Neil’s proud smile confirmed the hopes and dreams.

“It is. It’s difficult, even though the variation is like a minute long,” unafraid to delve into the deposit of fun facts and trivia available at hand, you rambled on until you remembered about the videos you could use as a demonstration “I could show you what it looks like, if you want?” fully prepared, you took out the phone from your pocket and waited.

Neil gestured towards it like there was no dilemma at all. Like he wanted to understand.

“Obviously,” he nodded, welcoming you into his space and leaning his back against the carriage side.

You did not squander that chance, typing the necessary phrase onto the YouTube search and getting closer to him. Once the video was ready, you offered Neil one of your earphones. It was not long, with the clip’s duration barely breaching the one-minute timestamp, but the shiver of excitement was still there. It caught fire when you pressed play and heard the familiar score fill your ears, the eyes tracing the steps by the ballerina on the recording with the mind making plans for your version. For what you could do to make it different. Memorable. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

But what soon became more fun was watching Neil instead of looking at the screen. He was focused on the performance, staring at the dancer with curiosity and interest. As if like he cared. You were not sure what to do about that realisation.

As the ballerina finished the performance with a smile and the video ended, you moved the phone away and snatched the headphones to deposit both in the tote. The rare hesitancy replaced the previous bravery, taking all the words out of your mouth and leaving you silent. And unable to look at him until Neil was the first to speak:

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” the encouragement in his voice did half the job of coaxing you out of the stupor.

The act was complete when he placed his palm on your knee and squeezed it lightly. That alone made you turn your head to look at him, all at once letting go of the shyness. Although he just as quickly took his hand back, the burning mark on your skin remained like the phantom touch. The slightly manic grin you turned on him was the only way you could hide the darkening blush.

“What did I do to deserve trust like that?” the question was genuine, eating at your brain with small yet persistent bites, impossible to ignore.

Neil had no obligation to humour you. No need to support you – a near stranger by all accounts. But he did. It was increasingly difficult to keep a distance. To remind yourself that you did not really know him. That trust should not be given this easily.

Neil’s searching gaze did not make it easier.

“I just like to believe in people, especially if I consider them friends,” he met your gaze and offered a timid smile.

You grasped onto the chance with a tight hold.

“Are we friends?” it was an opportunity for him to back off, to leave before you got in deeper.

Before what was once a chance meeting and a cute story to share with friends after a glass of wine became something real. Something frequent. Something to care for.

You did not have to stop to know what you wanted to happen.

“Something along those lines,” Neil shrugged, reading what you meant without difficulty. You saw the friendship take shape in the tiniest of nods you exchanged before he changed the topic with a cheeky smirk, “Especially considering I know about your annoying hook-up,” the involuntary shudder was an automatic reaction on your part, earning a pleased laugh from him “Talking about which, any new conquests?” he measured you up with that same searching look.

One that told you it was not only you that wanted to know more. That Neil, too, was curious. Although, that assumption was a tad bit insulting.

“No, come on. It’s been a week,” the frustration in your tone was a choice, a way of showing how the presumption made you feel, “I’m not that much of a player,” while it was from an insult, Neil needed to know he was wrong.

For some reason. A reason you were not willing to pick apart or scrutinise. Whether he noticed your ongoing crisis, it was hard to tell, for the moment Neil turned a mischievous grin on you, all rational thoughts had disappeared.

“And yet here you are, flirting with me,” checkmate.

The look you gave him confirmed his suspicions, if nothing did before. Only the fact was that your raging flirting with Neil hardly had anything to do with the desire to score another hook-up. There was no aim here, only that he was willing and too beautiful to be ignored.

At least, that was the hill you would die on.

“You’re making it easy,” you shrugged, half hoping to shift the attention away from your sex life and its many failings. But the opportunity was right there, too good to be wasted. Too perfect for the humour glimmering in his eyes and the expectant twitch in his lips, “Plus, you never know what may happen,” admittedly, the lower timbre and the seductive tone were all taken from the book on flirting you had used many times before.

But it worked, so… As if looking to distract you, Neil dragged a hand through his hair, making the blonde strands stick up and then fall in even greater disarray over his forehead. (That worked, too). All the while, he never let his gaze stray away from yours, seemingly confident that there was no need to keep note of the upcoming stops or anyone else around you. That, too, was a dangerous observation to make. All things considered.

“You have something in mind?” Neil’s question forced you to maintain some composure, but even that was short-lived.

As if inspired by your antics from that first meeting, his gaze travelled to your lips. The action alone kicked off a chain of events. Your eyes took the cue to glance down, to trace the shape of his mouth with a pang of hunger tugging at your stomach. Neil noticed it, watching you like a hawk that has just set the hook for its prey. Sinker? His tongue darted out to lick the expanse of his bottom lip. The hot flash of want sizzled underneath your eyelids as you forced yourself to look away.

Even if only to pretend you had not been struck by the same bullet you had fired at him the week before. The amusement you noticed in the corner of your eye told you it was futile.

“Oh, certainly,” your gaze stayed fixed on the darkness of the tunnels outside, as you mused out loud, “Especially if we keep on meeting like this,” there was nothing to add.

No chance of hiding the hopeful tint in your voice or the desire voiced with it. The part of you that had always rebelled against vulnerability and telling people truths, that were too close to reality, was ablaze with rage. You worried that, soon, it might start chucking rocks at you to stop. Goddamn.

“I hope we will. You’re, without a doubt, the most fascinating person I’ve met in a while,” only Neil’s matter-of-fact tone could make you turn back to face him.

If only to check whether it was not some meaningless jest. But there was no joke shining in his blue eyes. Only certainty. On the outskirts of your perception, you noted the station you had just left. That catchy ABBA song sharing its name reverberated in your head as if queued up by the gremlins occupying your brain.

Or something.

In any way, there was hardly time to idle.

“Likewise,” you shared a meaningful nod, not brave enough to express even half of what was running in your head. Instead, you decided to do what you did best and took the jump, “It’s my stop next, so I have to… Would you like to give me your number?” the line delivery was perfected over time.

So much so that by now, you did it without a hitch. Without cracking a smile so long as the recipient was processing the line with silence. The poker face stayed on until you saw that first glimmer of a smile or bursting bout of laughter. Only then did you let yourself crack, too. Just a flash of a smile to let them in on a secret.

Neil’s responding laugh and an amused grin shot straight up your veins like adrenaline. Like a drug you could feel yourself getting addicted to. He seemed to debate his reply for a beat before speaking:

“Maybe. But only if you still remember who I am in two weeks,” the challenge in the statement was clear.

Conveniently for both of you – you were never the one to pass on proving a point. Especially since this one was not going to be difficult. At all.

With all the confidence, you were sure you would think about those blue eyes and blonde mess of a hairstyle for many days to come. During many different times of the day.

Extending the hand to “shake on it”, you clasped his palm firmly. The “game on” look in your eyes completed the picture. The train began to slow down as the PA system crackled to life overhead. There was no time to waste.

“Deal. Do I get bonus points if I think about you during the off hours, too?” with his hand still clasped in yours, you stroked the back of it with your thumb.

A glance at the revealed forearm showed the goosebumps rising in the wake of your touch. Or maybe it was due to the implication? You would never know for sure.

The adorable blush spread over Neil’s cheekbones, suggesting he knew what you meant. He bowed his head as if overwhelmed with bashfulness and whispered the question over your joined hands.

“Do you?” there were two meanings to that question, and both had the same answer.

Do you think about me in those moments? Do you mean that?

Yes. You spelt out the confirmation with your fingertips over his knee. Like it was a secret. Out loud, you said:

“Maybe” the lights of Southwark were like a harsh wake-up, throwing you out of the daydream and into reality. You got up before anything could convince you to be sillier than acceptable. One glance down at the man who had somehow turned your world on its head was enough to soften your gaze, “Bye, Neil. Hope you have a nice day, giving communion or whatever it is priests do,” the joke landed spectacularly, with loud laughter from Neil and a burst of pride in your chest.

He grinned at you, something like happiness shining in the eyes that always seemed to contain melancholy. The desire to know what that was did not want to get any smaller. The doors slid open, forcing you to take that decisive step, fiercely hoping fate would be as generous in a week.

“See you around, Cupid,” Neil’s farewell rang out as you stepped out from the train.

You smiled like a lunatic as you walked down the platform. It was too easy to hope the Jubilee line would bring him to you again.

***

By the next Wednesday, you were prepared. You had timed your morning routine down to the last second to be sure you would get on that same train. And hoped Neil would do the same. Although, for a bystander, the action on your part could come off as desperate, you would never use that word yourself. No, this was pure curiosity. Way to spice up the morning commute and maybe get a friendship out of it. Just that. Only that.

When you descended onto the St. John’s Wood platform at precisely 7:19, your crossed fingers were hidden in your pocket. With bated breath (and an air of nonchalance), you stepped aboard the 7:21 Jubilee line train heading towards Stratford. Just like you planned.

You only let the breath out when your gaze fell upon the familiar dark blonde head. The accompanying hiccup in your heartbeat was to be ignored. Until further notice. Or forever. Aware of the crazed grin on your face, you crossed the space to the places occupied by Neil and asked:

“Is this seat taken?” this time, you were ready for his responding smile, dazzling you close to unconsciousness.

Only the hand tightly grasping the railing was necessary to keep you upright. But Neil need not know that. With your free hand, you motioned towards the seat occupied by his laptop bag.

“Now it is, yes,” Neil grabbed it instantly, putting the bag on the floor and turning toward you with a smile, “I was hoping I’d see you today,” the simple sentence was enough to spark the blooming warmth in your chest.

You did not even realise the cold had settled there throughout the week. In favour of ignoring the thought, you took the plastic seat with an accompanying creak of the material and turned the cheeky smile on Neil:

“Yeah? Were you holding your breath for it?” no matter the teasing, you were glad he had been waiting for you.

That it was not just you who had hoped the meeting no. three would happen. Allowing yourself the pleasure of staring at Neil, you let your eyes roam over his face. You noted the darker circles under his eyes and the tiredness hiding in the blue of his irises.

“From Swiss Cottage,” Neil’s reply made you store the observations in the drawer at the back of your head and stare at him with eyes open wide.

Now, that was interesting.

“That’s where you live?” you could not hide how you perked up hearing the information.

Neil saw through all the tricks you tried to pull up, immediately flashing a knowing smile. That was no mistake, not a case of him saying too much by accident. He wanted you to know. Or, alternately, he did not care too much about keeping it a secret.

“It is. Which makes me think we’re kinda sorta neighbours,” his lips twisted into a pleased smile as he confirmed your assumptions and added his layer of ridicule to the conversation “In the quirky Londony way” as if following internal logic you were not privy to, Neil shimmied in the seat, clearly highlighting the quirkiness of that statement.

There was no controlling the burst of laughter that escaped your lips and rang out in the carriage with embarrassing volume. Clamping your mouth shut, you slid down in the chair and glared at Neil, shaking with barely contained giggles. It was perfect.

Once you felt like you could control yourself, you broke the silence with a reply and a nod:

 “That we are,” then, if only because the giddiness was still making your body shake with joy, you added, “It’s good to know,” you met Neil’s gaze, looking for a pointer.

A sign that it was alright to follow the instinct again. You quickly found what you had been looking for as Neil inclined his head towards yours with glimmering eyes full of curiosity.

“Why?” you might have imagined the deeper timbre in his voice.

It might have just been your wishful thinking that Neil was eager to go along with your flirtations. But it also could have been a fact. Another one of those moments of courage when he seemed to forget what shyness is.

Aware of the danger divagations like those could bring, you shook them off with a shrug, easily deflecting the topic and leaving the assumptions as just that. Luckily, the perfect distraction was waiting on the tip of your tongue.

“Actually- Are you a farmer?” turning the unblinking stare on him, you awaited the responding smile like an early riser waiting for the sunrise.

As soon as you left the carriage a week before, you knew the silly guessing game would have to go on. Even if only for the sake of your amusement. Judging by Neil’s resigned sigh, he was willing to comply.

“So, this continues, huh?” the question was a mere formality, and he did not wait for an answer, dismissing your guess with a sleigh of hand, “Nope, try again,” you certainly did not imagine the pleased nonchalance as Neil settled against the side of the carriage and measured you coolly.

Never afraid to be seen, you felt a shiver run up your spine when you were the sole focus of his attention. The particular way he caressed every inch of your body with curiosity made you wonder what his touch would be like. What kind of lover would he be?

“That’s a shame. Would love to meet a sheep herder,” slamming the metaphorical door shut at the yearnings of your heart, you let your mouth run wild.

And again, it delivered. It was not a lie, but it was bullshit. Yet Neil did not seem too bothered, staring at you for approximately 30 seconds before shooting you a wink worth another minuscule heart attack:

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” yet again, he patted your knee good-naturedly and just as quickly retracted his hand, distracting you with a question, “Can I ask you something?” you could not miss the sudden change of tone.

It sobered you up, forcing you to strengthen your spine and give Neil full attention. After the minutes of whimsical conversations, you considered taking that one step further. It was only a blessing that he did it first.

“Anything,” hoping your smile was just as welcoming as you wanted it to be, you trained your eyes on that unruly strand of hair that always seemed to fall into Neil’s eyes.

Your hands were itching with the want to brush it away.

Neil sighed as if bracing himself for something. Then he started to speak:

“When we met, you said that you’re not even sure you believe love exists, let alone feel it for that guy… Did you mean that?” the question reverberated in the carriage, which suddenly was too quiet.

You glanced at Neil, not knowing what to expect, only to find nothing but curiosity in his face. The question was one that you were asked before. Many times before. But it was the first instance that you wanted to answer it. There was no judgment hiding behind the question mark, only the desire to understand. To figure out what you were all about.

That was a reason enough for honesty. Keeping your eyes locked with Neil, you took a deep breath and replied:

“Yeah… It’s like, I know it’s a thing people feel, and I guess that must mean it’s real, but I’ve never… I don’t think it’s as much a big deal as everyone makes it seem to be” that familiar frustration bled into your words as you felt the years of misunderstandings inspire the speech and spur on the sincerity, “I like sex and all that, just not the… swoony, tender bullshit that fixes absolutely nothing and only seems to make people miserable” you finished the reply on a groan and measured Neil with a sceptical look “Satisfied?” that was the dreaded moment.

When part of the curtain has risen to reveal the truth underneath. The silence felt almost stifling, and you did not know why. It was all true. Every word has been spoken with honesty and came from your soul. From the soul that was tired of glorification always bestowed on love, feelings, and all things pink and fizzy, that complicated what could be simple. Even if love existed, you were sure you would rather never feel it. It was better that way. Simpler.

You doubted there was anything in the world that could convince you otherwise.

But still, that beat of silence before Neil reacted to your impassioned speech was torturous. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, awaiting that curt nod. Once it came, you let out a long sigh, feeling your body cave in on itself as if manifesting that sudden energy drop.

“Yeah, and also concerned,” Neil’s voice was the thread that kept you anchored to the moment, although it was impossible to tune out the underlining worry you had detected in his tone.

It was inconceivable. You could deal with disgust and ignorance, but concern was not something you understood. It made you helpless. You shook it off the best way you could – with a flirty smirk and a question:

“Are you a romantic, sweetheart?” the pet name rolled off your tongue with ease, meeting no resistance from Neil save for an uncertain smile and a dusting of pink along his cheekbones.

You could work with that.

The question, too, came from a place of curiosity. Sure, you could have left the topic where it was and rushed off into another silly conversation. But why should you? One look at the upcoming station showed you that the time was still running out, and you did not have much to lose. You met Neil’s bashful look head-on, patiently waiting for him to find the words.

“As much as one can be a romantic when they’re utterly untethered,” once he spoke, you could hear the sadness defining his confession and the constant weight of it dragging him down.

The choice of the word made you search his gaze for an explanation. It was impossible to believe someone this gorgeous could be lonely, let alone without a line of admirers waiting at their every beck and call. Yet the melancholy tinting his words suggested otherwise. Knowing the situation called for something more subtle than your usual repertoire of blatant flirting, you dropped your voice to a soothing tone and lowered your head to keep holding Neil’s gaze:

“Like ever or…?” trailing off, you watched as he seemed to wage an internal battle for close to a minute.

Even without knowing him that well, you could guess what it was about. It took a certain level of courage to be vulnerable in front of a stranger, to reveal one’s deepest regrets to someone not that familiar. Although you did not want to speak, you hoped the impassive yet open look on your face showed him that you would not pass judgment, no matter what it would be.

On its own accord, your gaze followed the sharp lines of his face, drawn closed with thought and up over the halo of his hair, shining in the fake yellow light of the carriage. If there was one word to describe Neil, it would be golden. You could only imagine the comparison would get more apt in the proper, warm light of those rare autumnal days in London that seemed to approach fast.

Before you had the chance to analyse that thought and place it under necessary scrutiny, Neil broke the silence:

“No, just for the past few years. No matter how hard I may fall, it’s never enough, so…” the blue eyes that rose to meet yours were burdened with resignation that, for a second, felt like it could crack your heart into two.

But you shook it off, reaching for the layers of frustration that always seemed present. For the annoyance at the society that had fooled people into believing that love was some holy grail of existence, the point of your miserable lives to live up to. When it was everything but. The familiar fire burned in your eyes as you clasped a hand over Neil’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly:

“See? Love’s overrated,” swallowing past the bitterness coating your tongue, you shot him a manic grin.

And ignored the alarms blaring in your head.

***

Before, those twenty minutes of commute between home and Canary Wharf were spent zoning out. Only sometimes, he could shake up the routine with a book or a particularly interesting podcast episode. After, it became an affair of watch-checking and foot-tapping until the train arrived at St. John’s Wood, and she would either be there or not.

Despite the impressions, Neil much preferred the after. Even if for the past two Wednesday mornings, he awoke with a strangely knotted stomach and a dumb smile of anticipation forming on his lips. That aside, it was nice to have something to look forward to.

Apart from the complexities of inverted physics, that is.

Timing the arrival on the Swiss Cottage platform for the right train was not an issue. It was something Neil had always done, unable to shake off the shackles of routine that seemed like second nature by now. When he boarded the Jubilee line heading towards Stratford, the anxiety set in like an old friend. It did not help that the carriage was packed this time, offering no available seats. With a tired sigh, Neil grabbed the nearest handrailing and stared out the window.

Without effort on his side, she soon enough came to mind. That happened a lot since that fateful afternoon. He had yet to decide whether it was a good or bad thing. For now, it was simply a fact. Like the anticipation of seeing her in two minutes, for the fourth time since the meeting. That also made Neil feel some way, but he was not brave (or willing) to understand it yet.

Perhaps the most crucial fact was that she, the newly appointed Cupid and the most baffling person he had met, was impossible to forget. And now, after three conversations that only expanded the mystery and made his curiosity insatiable, Neil did not try to forget. No, today (if she showed up), he would give her his number and let that determine the course. It was easy enough to think, harder still to execute.

By the time he had convinced himself that it was achievable and that it was alright to let go of the control this once, the train slowed to a crawling speed, and the lights of St. John’s Wood shone into the carriage. Before Neil could descend into another sort of anxious spiral, the doors slid open, and he had no choice but to expectantly stare at the commuters streaming in. He did not have to wait long, for right after the first row of impatient tourists and gravelly serious businessmen forced their way onto the Tube, she daintily stepped inside and flashed him another of those brilliant smiles.

It was nearly impossible to prevent his gaze from scanning her from head to toe like an uncontrollable Neanderthal that had caught the first sight of a woman. It was a reflex, a reaction Neil tried to stifle by forcefully dragging his eyes towards her face.

He was, without a doubt, an idiot.

The internal crisis had to be put on hold when she crossed that bit of space and leaned on the railing, curious eyes roaming over his face like they always did. Neil did not try to convince himself she was doing anything but checking him out.

“Ready to claim your reward?” the question helped him get the hang of the situation instead of losing his cool any minute.

That was highly probable with the way Cupid was staring at his face, seemingly unbothered by the movements of the carriage and the cramped space. It was also a good way of reminding her, though Neil did not doubt she would have forgotten. For reasons utterly inconceivable, the woman was driven to get his number.

The only excuse he had for waiting so long to let her have it was the constant disbelief that made it virtually impossible for Neil to trust she wanted it for real. As in not because of some elaborate joke that he was not privy to. And yes, that did happen. Once.

“Ecstatic,” her reply delivered in a perfectly monotone voice did make him focus. He watched as she glanced around the carriage, only now taking in the surroundings, “Looks like we’re standing today,” the observation seemed like a safe opener, and Neil immediately felt grateful.

It was that necessary push to make him relax a little and get out of his head. Even if only for the next quarter of an hour he would have with her.

“Do you have anything against that?” copying her pose, he leaned in closer, testing the luck that did not seem to have run out just yet.

If anything, she closed the space by another fraction, offering him a generous whiff of her perfume (Neil’s head did not feel ridiculously fuzzy because of it) and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her lips curled into a tell-tale smirk that should have been the first clue of what was coming.

“Nope. I’m not too fussy about positions,” as soon as Cupid dropped her voice to a seductive timbre and grazed his shoulder with her fingers, Neil was done for.

He blinked twice, hoping to unfreeze the brain that continued to display the error404.exe. Because what the fuck was that? Who acted like this with near strangers?

Cupid, that’s who. Judging by her self-satisfied smile, she was pleased with the reaction. She brushed the lint he had not noticed before from his cuff and observed him silently. Despite the heart attack, Neil had to give her kudos for the attempt. He did so by slightly bowing his head in her direction and a wry smile:

“I walked right into this one, didn’t I?” once he looked up, the amusement still warming up his chest, even if tinted with bafflement, Cupid was waiting for him, expectantly meeting his gaze as if there was nothing in the world that could make her look away.

She was truly something else.

“Yeah, you did,” her knowing eyes cut through all the posturing Neil could ever hope to attempt as she took a deep breath and went in straight with the agenda, “Soo… Can I have your number?” that cheeky grin was still in place, adding to her charm.

Although Neil would be the first to admit she did not need additional charisma points or anything of the sort. She was already lethal. That realisation did not make him any keener to pull back or put a stop to the dance she had drawn him into.

Neil eyed her closely, feeling the weight of his phone in the pocket. The answer was yes, of course, but she did not need to know that… yet.

“Are you going to sign me up for the Tories news updates?” having noticed how she reacted to his smirks, he presented her with one when posing the question.

To anyone, it might have seemed worryingly specific. Cupid just measured him up with her piercing gaze and asked:

“… Did that happen before?” the deadly serious tone added to the ridicule, making Neil crack a smile.

“No, but it might,” he shrugged, hoping the joke had landed well enough to mask the awkwardness threatening to make a scene.

It was not that he did not feel comfortable around her or that there were some strong-founded beliefs she was not to be trusted. Instead, it was what it had always been. What Neil had hinted at during their previous conversation. It was that it had never worked out before. And it was hardly possible that it would now.

Especially considering what she had revealed that last time, too. It was best to be cautious. But that, in the face of those beautiful eyes and fascinating personality, was a challenge.

He did not even know yet just how true that statement would be.

“No, the worst you can expect is lame pickup lines and dumb memes,” unaware of Neil’s slow descent into madness, she replied to the previous question, intertwining a sardonic grin in between the statements “I’d also suggest nudes, but we’re not there yet, I think” it took him an embarrassingly long time to process her words with the mind foolishly lured into the safety of a normal conversation. Well, no more. Shit. „Unless-” before she could say another disastrous word and push him down the staircase towards the pit of insanity, Neil closed her mouth with his palm.

Anything was better than talking to her about prospective nudes. Even touching her face and getting shocked when the warmth of her breath hit his skin, forcing Neil to pull it back almost as fast as he had done it in the first place. She just stared back, relentlessly curious and unmoved.

“We’re definitely not there yet,” aware of the deep blush that had bloomed on his face like a sign of contagion, Neil dropped his gaze onto the floor and murmured the command, “Give me your phone,” the conversation was already a disaster, so might as well. Right?

She laughed and the sound was enough to draw him out of the hiding and look up. Neil already knew he would do whatever he could to make her laugh like that again. And then once more still.

Her warm hand slipped into his palm, passing the phone like a beacon of trust he did not know he could deserve. It was accompanied by a simple quip that still somehow made him feel lightheaded:

“Here, kind sir,” on retreat, her fingers brushed down the length of his digits, stopping for a split second at the tips of his fingers. The resulting sparks were certainly a figment of his imagination, “Any texting rules? Is there anyone that might intercept your messages?” her voice broke through another brief blue screen issue in Neil’s brain and forced him to focus.

Focus on opening the phone app on her phone and typing in his number correctly. The last thing he would have wanted was to fuck up and make a mistake, immediately losing any chances he would have had at a friendship with her. Yes, friendship. Even as an idiot, Neil knew that was all it would be. Which was fine. It really was.

Once he double-checked that the right digits were typed in, there came a second dilemma of the evening. The contact name. Neil stole a glance at her, still patiently waiting for an answer to her questions that he seemed inept to give. It offered a perfect stalling opportunity:

“Rogue mate, maybe, but it’s okay. I can live with his teasing,” it was something to worry about later, considering that no one knew about her yet. If asked, Neil was not sure he could explain why. The betraying part of his brain that always wanted to blurt out some incriminating thoughts admitted it was because he wanted those interactions only for himself, as a secret to cherish in the quiet of his mind.  He slammed the door on that pathetic voice and looked up at her with tentative hope sparking in his chest. It was just another risk to take, right? “Should we… keep this time and day as a standing arrangement thing?” not willing to bet even half a dime on her positive answer, Neil put his attention back on the topic at hand.

Literally. He was still holding her phone. The contact’s name was still empty. He had to think of something.

Then, right when his stomach clenched with that first tell-tale sign of anxiety, the right thing came to mind. The perfect thing.Neil fought the desire to grin like an English cousin of the Joker and saved his number, handing the locked phone back to Cupid. She did not check it, pocketing the device and turning her thoughtful gaze on him:

“Sure thing. I need time to warm you up for those nude pics,” she offered Neil a criminal wink and glanced at the display to check the approaching station.

The nonchalance had the chance of killing him before an inverted bullet would. He was willing to bet on it.

“Can’t wait,” he swallowed hard against the mess of thoughts and emotions in his head and glared at her.

He really could not wait. Maybe. Possibly.

It was both a curse and a blessing that her station was approaching fast, offering maybe three or four minutes more. The strange disappointment coated the back of his throat as Neil allowed himself to stare. To observe her, with her lively eyes and almost permanent cheeky smile. Even now, he did not dare ogle her body, already too aware of the heat of her presence so close to his orbit. The danger was too grave to consider what this would not become.

“I’ve got one more question,” her voice acted like the thread of Ariadne, leading him to the exit from the labyrinth of his own making. Neil met her gaze just in time to notice the playful sparks dancing there, “Are you a cook?” she leaned a little closer again as if testing his waning control and steadied herself against the sudden movement of the train with her hand resting on his shoulder.

Even through the cotton shirt, he could feel the heat of the contact.

It was almost enough to distract him from the ridicule of her question. Almost, because as soon as he had sobered up, Neil did not try to fight the smile pulling at his lips. She was ridiculous.

“No, unless we consider the Risotto Milanese, I can make from scratch,” giving her as good as he got, Neil offered her a wink and reached for the dwindling depositories of courage to cover her hand holding onto the railing.

Admittedly, he was enjoying the guessing game she had decided to make out of the situation. It was a better alternative to Neil telling her the truth, and 1) putting her in potential danger, and 2) making her believe something that did not sound real.

Cupid did not seem bothered by his actions and kept her hand where it was. Her eyes met his as she stated a simple wish:

“Count me in,” then, as if Neil was not yet aware of what a kind of woman she was, she licked her lips thoroughly.

He did not try to imagine what they would taste like.

“When?” as if possessing a mind of its own, his thumb rubbed invisible circles onto the skin between her knuckles.

Neil did not want to be responsible for the actions of his own body. Or for the thoughts that sprang into his mind whenever she gave him that sure smile and bated her lashes.

“You’ll see,” it was her turn to wink, and the confidence in her gaze almost made him believe she knew something he did not.

Like whatever was waiting in their future.

It was a blessing in disguise that the train was now approaching the Southwark station. Neil did not think he could be trusted with more time to spend next to her. Instead, he levelled her with what he hoped was a critical glare and asked:

“Has anyone told you that you’re a nightmare?” he knew there was no chance of losing that affectionate undertone in his voice or making ‘nightmare’ not sound like the most tender of pet names.

Apart from being an idiot, Neil was also a lost cause. It would seem.

The train yet again slowed to a crawling pace as the platform lights etched mirage-like constellations on her face. It was impossible to look away. So, Neil stared as she, the incomparable Cupid, slid her hand down the railing, away from his palm and tapped his wrist. Twice. As if he could have missed the first time.

Just as he was beginning to hope she would leave without giving him another heart attack, she leaned in, closing the space, and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. As soon as he had registered it was happening, it was already over, and Cupid was standing in the carriage doorway with that unchanging smirk on her face:

“More than once,” without waiting for a reply (not that Neil would have had one), she stepped out of the train and disappeared in the crowds of commuters.

Neil was an idiot, a lost cause, and undoubtedly screwed. One way or another.

***

/Unknown number, 5:15 pm/ Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ Already?

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ God, you’re fast.

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ That’s the effect you have on me 😘

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ Clever emoji choice, I gotta admit. Took me a little to find you. What did I get?

/✝️, 5:25 pm/ You’ll see.

/ 🏹, 5:26 pm/ When?

/✝️, 5:30 pm/ Soon 😘

 / 🏹, 5:35 pm/ Ah, delayed gratification. Just wait till I get impatient.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ And then what?

/ 🏹, 5:47 pm/ I’ll punish you. Something tells me you’d like that.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ You’re a menace.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ On second thought, I think I’ll have the nude pics you’ve mentioned.

/ 🏹, 5:50 pm/ Not yet, sweetheart. Practice what you preach first.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ I’ll see you?

/ 🏹, 5:57 pm/ You’ll see me. You’ll get sick of me even.

/✝️, 5:59 pm/ Challenge accepted, Cupid.

[fatallyfalling]

{{ f a n f i c d i l e m m a }}

- hello !

- currently working through my promised Finnick fluff along with some Peeta headcanons but i’ve got an inkling for a Finnick x reader series idea and i’d love to get an interest check!

- originally i thought i might be able to get the idea in one long post but that would just be way too many words or time skips and scrolling haha, so i was thinking around 4 or more parts?

- I enjoy witty banter and the “enemies to friends to lovers” trope too much but I also love a good slow burn!

- I know my idea may not be very original but i’m kind of excited to write it in my own take nonetheless. please let me know your thoughts!

- Essentially You and Finnick would have met when you were reaped for the 67th annual Hunger games (making you both sixteen). Mags is your mentor because Finnick is being taken to the capital for “business” (we all know it’s not business)

- There’ll be train bantor to develop why you mutually aren’t fond of one another at first - you’re a caged animal being hauled to inevitable slaughter while he has the luxury of keeping his life and newfound “privilege” as a victor.

-The two of you are separated once you arrive in the Capital and you don’t see Finnick again till after you manage to survive and somehow win the games.

- Things get testy from here on your victory tour while a certain “Capital’s Darling” comes to some unexpected realizations about you.

- the story will jump around after the victory tour but the romance won’t really begin till after both of you are adults (shortly before the quarter quell making you both early twenties) !!!!

- No more spoilers from here though muahahha !

{{ tags }}

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Beta Reader About Me

This is going to be a more in-depth post about me as a beta reader, which will be linked in my pinned post.

First off, hello call me Shark or Spruce! I'm 19 and go by he/they pronouns. I am open to beta reading for people, whether that's stuff on here or AO3.

What I'm willing to do:

Grammer/Capitalization/Punctuation

Cheer reading(pointing out what you did well and what I'm excited to see)

Identify plot inconstancies/where something needs to be clarified

Help with canon/characterization(if I know what/who it is)

American/Midwest information and more specifically Wisconsin information

Pretty much anything else you wish me to help with

*Depending on the fandom and length of fics, some of these will differ in doability*

I am generally ok with any kind of content that you write, but I do have some fic turn-offs. *Note that not everything on this list means I won't beta read for you, but I would like more info/details around them if they are in your fic to see if I'm still comfortable helping*

Mpreg/Anything pregnancy-related

Kid fics(when the main pairing has a kid, not kid-focused fics)

Really dark stories with no happy endings(depends on the story, but I'd prefer a happy/fulfilling ending)

Major Character death

Anything that is meant to hate a certain group/subgroup of people

Really long fics over 100k words

Some things that I am comfortable reading. *Not a comprehensive list*

Omegaverse

Reader Insert

G-E rated fics

Original characters

Canonverse

Alternate Universe

Gore and violence

Potentially triggering topics

I will again read pretty much any fandom you write for including original works, but here are some fandoms that I would be able to help more in-depth with:

The Witcher(Show, Third game, All the books), The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Halo(Game series), Marvel, Venom, Star Wars/The Mandalorian, Transformers, Call of Duty, How to Train Your Dragon(Iffy on third movie), Spider-Man/Deadpool(Spideypool), Percy Jackson/The Heroes of Olympus, The Hunger Games, The Divergent Series, Maze Runner, Narnia(Movies only, I don't know anything in the books), Pride and Prejudice/Emma, Disney/Pixar movies, The 100, NBC Hannibal, Rise of the Guardians, Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, Beastars, Titanfall 2, Red Dead Redemption 2, Baldurs Gate 3, Divinity Original Sin 2, Hazbin Hotel, Critical Role(I've only watched Campaign 1 and 3, and the TV show), Once Upon a Time, Anne with an E, Harry Potter, Six of Crows, Twilight, Star Trek, The Conjuring series, Descendants/High school Musical, Guardians of the Galaxy, Oceans Trilogy, Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man, Top Gun, Stranger Things, Fast and Furious, Moon Knight, Bridgerton(Show only)

I will read WIPs/completed works, multi/single chapter works, original works, and anything in between.

If you are interested or have any questions you may DM me. If you do, please provide whether I would be helping with a WIP or completed work, and whether there are any deadlines I need to be aware of. Please also include any warnings I should know about, and what you would want me to help with. I would also prefer to work on Google Docs if possible.

*Even if you are not interested, please reblog for others to see*

Edited July 18, 2024

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Six Sentence Sunday!

It has been a hell of a week and weekend, folks, and I am Exhausted with a capital E. But...I am always so excited when I'm tagged in this, because writing brings me joy and allows me respite from the chaos of my life. Not me working 67 hours this week. So thank you all, truly, for always tagging me, and for letting me step out of the storm for a bit and onto a calm shore where I can read all of your incredible words as well as share my own. I love you all dearly.

Thanks to @kiwiana-writes, @ships-to-sail, @indestructibleheart, and @anincompletelist for the tags! Let's see what I can scrounge up, shall we? (Oh no, it's seven sentences, whatever shall we do?)

The crowd sways like the waves of an ocean, depositing a still-staring Alex into an open corner near the bar. He’s just pulled his eyes from the ceiling and starts up to the bar to order his first of hopefully many drinks of the night when he pulls up short at the sight of a lone figure leaning against the wall in quite possibly the only dark corner of a room filled with flashing strobes and the glow of cell phones. It’s the mask that Alex notices first. Solid gold, with a simple looping design carved along the edges for a touch of flair without being too flashy. The stranger’s eyes are closed, gold eyeshadow painted to match the openings of the mask. His hair, Alex notices as the stranger runs a hand back through it, is also made of gold. On anyone else, it might just be called blond, but on this person, this Greek god, there’s no better word than gold, as if he were born wearing a crown.

Gonna throw out a tag for: @arand0mdutchgirl, @sparklepocalypse, @heybuddy-drabbles, @happiness-of-the-pursuit, @ssmtskw, @daisymae-12, @oneofthewednesdays, @inexplicablymine, @cricketnationrise, @littlemisskittentoes, @suseagull04, @affectionatelyrs, @whimsymanaged, @clottedcreamfudge and anyone else who feels like posting! Happy Sunday, friends!

[bah-circus]

hiii!! can we get a level 2 (or 3, only if you want!!) of Infected from regretevator? :3c

Of course dear audience! We have heard your request and have found a suitable performer for you! We hope this performance suits your needs, but you are free to make any adjustments you wish.

❣︎For Our Next Act, Please Welcome,,,❣︎

Infected from Regretevator!

°·⊱ Name: Infected, Kasper, Kai, Sloane, 

°·⊱ Nicknames/Titles: The Infected, Sk10r Boi, Kas

°·⊱ Age: 26

°·⊱ Race/Species: Robloxian (Infected)

°·⊱ Source: Regretevator (Roblox)

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Sex: Intersex

°·⊱ Gender: Missingsourcegender Agrocutecattic Jumpygender Pinksodatabic Sillycatboygender DigitalNightcoreDJic UnrestrictidInternetAccess Impactfontic CatBxy

°·⊱ Pronouns: H3/h1m; Sh3/h3r; 1t/1ts; Rawr/rawrs; XD/XDs, Bite/Bites; Nyan/Nyans; Sk8/Sk8s; Sk10/Sk10s; X3/X3s; Scene/Scenes; Nya/Nyas; Kawaii/Kawaiis; Nin/tendo/nintendos; Mob/Mobs; 🎮/ 🎮s; Lol/Lolz; Meme/memes; Omg/Omgz

°·⊱ Sexuality: Omnisexual

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Personality: X3 is very energetic and acts “cringey”. 1ts entire personality is stuck in the early 2010s cringe culture and it shows. Scene loves making people happy, and will do whatever th3y can to help. 

°·⊱ Likes: Video games, Monster Energy, Pink, Skating, Cats, 2000s music, 2000s clothes, Bunnies, PartyNoob, Split, Runescape, FPS games, Pokemon, Nightcore, Hatsune Miku, Nyan Neko Sugar Girls, Homestuck, Drawing, Playing electric guitar, Dinosaurs, making YTP videos.

°·⊱ Dislikes: Modern slang, Sleep, Justin Beiber, Friday (the song), Hackers, Furries, Flowers (1tz allergic), people being sad, Modern memes.

°·⊱ Role: ADHD Holder, Companion 

°·⊱ Emoji Sign-Off: 🎮🐾🦕🔲

°·⊱ Typing Quirk: Replaces some letters with numbers aka Leetspeak (A = 4, I = 1, E = 3, O = 0), sometimes replaces S with z, will use full caps when excited, will randomly capitalize letters,  also uses kaomojis and emoticons rather than emojis ( like (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ or XD and  o__O)., uses 2000s internet slang (zOMg, soz , Rawr, etc.), misspells stuff on purpose (Like this = liek dis)

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ TransIDs: TrisAutistic, Transhealthy, Permaliveconcert, Permabruised, TransHorns, TransFangs, Perma2000s

°·⊱ CisIDs: ADHD, sick/infected, yellow body, brown hair, pink blood, UncannyVoice

°·⊱ MUDS: Joints Fucked | Object Seperation-Anxiety (hxs hat)

°·⊱ Paras: 🐙🥚📖🌷😖🦖💐⚾🛍️👄👀🎵

°·⊱ Extra: Itz voice in headspace sounds glitchy/staticy and layered.

°·⊱ Faceclaim: 1 | 2 | 3

We had SO MUCH FUN with this request! We actually started playing Regretevator because of it haha. Looking into Infected themself also made us split one so twinsies!!