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liminalpebble · 1 year ago

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Hi ya, my ask would be for Loki....

For some reason his magic is glitching. He needs to understand why before anyone finds out.

Oddly, when he's around [insert character name] the effect is better/worse*

*delete as appropriate

Hello dear nonny!

Sorry it has taken me a thousand years to write this. It's kind of a long one but I hope it warms your heart. It's kind of silly and fluffy but unexpectedly emotionally real. I hope you enjoy.

CW: Fluff, all fluff. Loki x gn reader, surprisingly wholesome, just bit of cussing.

----

The Glitch

“DAMN!” Loki screamed for the tenth time that morning, smacking his fist against the kitchen counter. In the privacy of his quarters at Avengers Tower, the god of mischief was having a horrible morning.

He woke up as usual and tried to spark up the green glow of his magic to help him get ready more quickly for the day. Although long hot showers were pleasant to him, so was sleeping in after reading late into the night. Being able to magic oneself clean and ready for the day in seconds was a major convenience...one he had always taken for granted.

Although his fist was no longer magically charged, the strength of his hand still left divots in the counter top, frustrating him further. Finally the god of mischief screamed so loudly and smacked the wall so hard in rage that it was a miracle the whole building didn't hear it.

He was very lucky, in that case, that there was only one person walking quietly through the hall to the morning meeting (something Steve cutely called the “Superhero Roundtable”). You rolled your eyes thinking of the name, but Steve was too much of a sweetheart to burst his bubble about it. As your steps clicked over the polished floors you were feeling a bit proud of yourself that you would actually be early for once.

“DAMMIT!! NORNS SPIT UPON YOU, YOU HORRIBLE FICKLE FORCES.”

You jumped at the sudden avalanche of sound. His biting baritone tirade crashed into the hall from behind Loki's door. Your superhuman reflexes were the only thing keeping your files and your coffee from hitting the floor. Sighing in exasperation, you considered whether or not to get involved with whatever the hell this was. Ever since you joined the team a few days ago, your dramatic Asgardian coworker was none too thrilled to have another non-human demigod on the roster. Sharing the spotlight was never his forte and he made it everyone's problem, especially yours.

But...you were kind, sometimes to a fault. The idea of simply waking by and ignoring him, of enjoying some schadenfreude as this arrogant ass was finally being inconvenienced by something, was incredibly tempting. But pity welled up in your heart, knowing what it's like to be a stranger in a strange land, to feel alone and angry, so you knocked on the door despite being afraid of whatever hurricane was behind it.

Loud steps trudged closer, then the door swung open as Loki barked, “WHAT do you WANT?!”

You took a step back, eyes wide and coffee still death-gripped in one hand.

“I...uh...I heard you screaming, and breaking things. You know, you'll never get your deposit back if you keep it up,” you attempted to joke, painting an uncertain smile across your face, brows peaked in concern.

His aquamarine eyes stared down, boring into yours as he clenched his jaw, then said dryly, “How very perceptive of you.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “God, you're such a bellend.”

He flinched at the insult. He didn't know what “bellend” meant, but he could infer from your tone that it was not a compliment. As he tried to swing the door shut again, you slapped it back open, “But! I really am concerned about you, so can you please let me know what's wrong?”

“Nothing!” he growled out, chest heaving.

Your eyes scanned him up and down, taking in his disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and the slew of objects strewn across his living room. “I'm not an idiot, Loki. I can see the obvious. Will you please just talk to me?”

He flinched again, this time struck by the genuine care in your voice and in your eyes. It rendered him uncharacteristically unsure of what to say or do. As he paused and you stepped closer, he could feel the surge of his magical energy building back up within him. Loki's face suddenly cracked into an unnerving gleeful grin. He hastily cast a green glow over his body, rendering himself dressed, scrubbed, and ready for the day. Although he knew he might be stretching his luck, he waved a hand behind him to reset the apartment back to its immaculate order. To his delight, it worked. “I'm ready, your highness. Let's go, shall we,” he said lightly, as if he wasn't in a tyrannical rage moments earlier.

You stared, eyes and mouth wide open in confusion, then shook your head and shrugged. “Whatever, Vlad the Complainer. Let's just go,” you said, striding quickly down the hall towards the conference room.

The demigod strutted after you, in much less of a hurry, until he felt the magic within him wither and shrink as the distance between you increased. He gingerly tested a theory, picking up his pace so he gained on you. As he suspected, each step closer caused his magic to re-energize within him.

Damn he thought with a huff, as the two of you entered the conference room, just in time. You settled in the only two seats left at the table, next to each other.

Great. You thought, realizing that at least for the next few hours, you would be stuck next to the intergalactic diva. That's what I get for being nice.

-------

The meeting went on far too long, but while Steve droned on, you turned the issue of Loki around in your mind. He sat next to you, not bothering to hide his boredom; arms crossed, chin tilted haughtily and legs spread wide. By the end of the first hour, you finally couldn't stand his long limbs sprawled out into your own space, so you swiftly kicked his shin under the table. He glared, but the message was received, loud and clear, as he wheeled his chair slightly away from you and crossed his legs.

As you touched, it happened yet again, the flaring of your own magic levels and a definite feeling of transfer to him. You could sense it ever since he answered his door this morning; the fluctuating magic. It didn't take you long to put two and two together. His magic was faltering, and for no reason you could discern, your proximity was jump-starting it again. You made a mental note to immediately drag Loki with you to Bruce to get this all sorted out.

You're welcome, Loki. You thought to yourself, considering that you could have just brought it up here in the larger group to get everyone working on the problem, but you instead decided to preserve his fragile pride. Finally, Steve dismissed everyone and you waited until the room was completely empty with a hand on Loki's arm, urging him to stay seated as well.

When you were alone, Loki took the opportunity to speak first. “Well, well, wellll,” he teased, “eager to prolong my charming presence, darling, and just the two of us, no less.” He winked and smiled. And although it was corny it was also devastatingly sexy coming from his stupid handsome face.

“Can you, for once, cut the crap? Just tell me what the fuck is going on with your powers.”

Those gorgeous icy eyes went even wider than usual, as he forced out a breathy chuckle while saying, “Why, what ever do you mean?”

Your expression remained knowing and unamused as you explained. “I know, Loki, I can feel the movement of my magic in my body, just like you can, and I can tell when someone's siphoning off of it like a gas tank. We have to go to Bruce, see if he can sort it...”

“NO.” he growled, deep and articulate, close to your face, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can you put your enormous ego on a shelf for a few moments and just go with me? This won't just fix itself, you know.”

He sighed. “Very well.”

“You're welcome,” you quipped as you already left your chair and made your way to the lift. Loki was dragging his feet until he felt the magic seep away as you left. Reminded of his predicament, he jumped up and followed closely.

------

Several hours later you were sitting in a strange plastic shell of an observation room with Loki, a transparent, zipped divider between you. You sat in opposite corners trying to get comfortable while Bruce ran his tests, sometimes unzipping the middle panel, and sometimes closing it again to isolate each of you. Dr. Banner's warm voice rang in through the intercom as he looked through the observation window, “You okay in there, kid? Got everything you need for awhile?”

You laughed. “I'm 100 years old, Bruce, and I'm totally fine,” you said gesturing to your comfortable pajamas, piles of books, laptop, pillows and blankets. “It's...uh...it's like a slumber party. I'm doing great.”

“Except for the company,” Loki quipped under his breath, as he sat against the wall reading, not raising his eyes for a moment. Unlike you, Loki refused any creature comforts besides a book to keep him occupied over what would probably be long hours of testing.

---

When you arrived at the lab earlier that day, Bruce welcomed you warmly with a kind hug and chit chat. He definitely did not do the same for Loki. Instead he frowned warily and gave him a wide berth. After a few initial tests you asked, “What's the verdict?”

“Well, it looks like you two have powers that behave on similar principles but for some reason, they're interfering with each other like when radio signals cross...or maybe more like magnetic fields...still figuring that out...anyway. We never knew about this problem before because we never had two...uh...similar beings living in the same building. To bring it all back to normal, I need to find a way to separate the signals and keep it that way...some device to wear or even a nano device planted under the skin.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki said, brows furrowed and expression indignant. “You want to cut open my skin and implant something?”

Bruce smiled wryly. “You're making it sound medieval. I'm not chopping anyone open. It would be a tiny laparoscopic incision. It would take seconds and then you'd be back to normal.”

“That's great news!” you chirped.

Dr. Banner, held up his hand. “but I have to keep you both here for an extended period of time to collect enough data...eight hours or more. It might be best if you come in the evening and just sleep overnight. That way I can take readings and it won't interfere with whatever else you have to do today. It might not be the most comfortable sleeping ara...”

You put a hand on Bruce's arm. “It's fine, Bruce. I just appreciate your help.”

Loki was still glaring, arms crossed, but nodded his reluctant agreement to the arrangement.

-----

So now, here you were, locked in a bubble with Loki until morning. You almost wished the divider in the middle were opaque, so it could block his moody glares and sidelong glances. Although you bristled at his comment, you made the best of things, arranging your blankets and pillows and reading a book just as you would if you were in your own bed, in your own quarters.

Before long you heard huffs of annoyance and shuffling coming from the other side. You ignored him until you found yourself reading the same page three times because of the interruption. Finally, you gave in.

You looked over to your cellmate and asked blandly, “Can I help you?”

He grunted. “I can't get comfortable.”

“Yeah. You didn't bring a sleeping bag or blanket or pillow or anything.”

He stepped closer to the divider, as did you. “Well, I thought I could conjure what I needed. I didn't think the good doctor would ask us not to actively use our powers.”

You tutted. “A remarkable lack of foresight from the god of cunning.”

He put his hands on his hips and be began to rush his words out, “And I should have...what? Made my side look like a damn nursery as yours does? With those bizarre creatures, and that atrocious nightwear. I am a god, not a toddler.”

You braced yourself, responding as he paced. “Well, for one fucking thing those creatures are called Squishmallows and they are incredibly comfortable as pillows...and they're cute. They make me smile, Loki.”

The god of mischief raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically and derisively at a large plushy winking mango you had been using as a pillow. He asked, “And what is this apparel you have donned for your captivity.”

You blushed, looking at the zip-up hooded onesie you were wearing, and mumbled, “Shut up. It's warm and very soft on the inside.”

“In the semblance of what? A bear?”

“A capybara.”

“A what?”

“A capybara. They're cute and peaceful...look a bit like overgrown guinea pigs?”

His face screwed up into a a cringe. “I wouldn't know. I haven't been spending my long godly lifespan on a silly little eternal holiday, playing with midgardians and forsaking my dignity,” he pronounced loudly, in his most aristocratic tone.

You were now facing each other only inches apart, breaths fogging the plastic divider, arms crossed pugnaciously. You paused, gathering what little patience and compassion you had left to muster, then asked. “And which of us seems happier, Loki? Hmm?”

You didn't wait for a reply, knowing it would just raise your dander even more. Loki, however, found he didn't have any rebuttal. He watched, puzzled, as you crossed the room and spoke something Loki couldn't hear into the intercom. He watched curiously, as a lab technician took several pillows and blankets from you and brought them to Loki in the other compartment.

He held them, staring blankly at the pile in his arms. You held back a chuckle at the incongruity of the scene; the proud ancient god in his regal clothes holding a pile of soft, pastel-colored material.

To your surprise, he spread them out very carefully, returned to the divider and said quietly, “Thank you.”

As he was turning to resume his pacing at the far end, you finally asked, “Loki. Why do you hate me so much? What do you have against me? I've been nothing but kind to you...even kinder because I know what it is to be like us...to be the only ones like us, alone and misunderstood in a foreign world.”

You tried to keep the hurt from your voice, but it seeped in, and the perceptive Asgardian saw it easily. Loki's stony face softened unexpectedly, eyebrows peaked in concern and a little shame at his behavior.

“Look...I...I don't hate you. I just....I took me years...years to gain the midgardians' trust after...everything. And then it took so much time and so much effort for these Avengers in particular to accept me, respect me, acknowledge me as someone other than Thor's little bastard brother and a nuisance to the planet. But eventually, finally, I had my identity as unique and glorious and a vital member of the team and finally...finally even, perhaps, gaining friends here.”

His voice dropped to an angrier growl, “But then there was you, and in mere days...days...all of that had unraveled because of you; because of your understanding of their ways, and your intelligence and your skills and....and your kindness...your incredible, unwavering kindness.”

He sat down heavily, slouching with a bowed head, as a barely perceptible tear rolled down his cheek.

There were a few moments of silence as you came closer to the divider sitting down to match him on the other side of the plastic wall. “Loki,” you said so softly, putting your hand up on the divider.

He raised his head and met your eyes, this time not bothering to hide his tears as he barked, “Spare me your pity!”

“I don't pity you,” you said, and he could see you were telling the truth. “But I do feel for you because I have been where you are. I'm sure none of it has been easy for you, but Loki, I've wanted to be your friend since I arrived here. I'd heard all about you...all those good things you said they finally thought and felt about you were the things I heard. I was honestly, a little star-struck over you.”

He chuckled at that. “Really? Star-struck?”

“Yeah. You seemed so fascinating, and bright, and...well...and handsome obviously.”

He smiled broadly at that.

“Yeah. Yeah. Don't let it go to your head. I know everyone says that about you.”

He looked puzzled. “Actually, no one has said that to me.”

“Well. I assure you, they all think it.”

He smiled, looking you up and down in your ridiculous plush onesie and said, “And you're very...I don't remember their word for it...yndig in your...your....”

You smiled and chuckled, “In English the word is 'adorable' and I think this thing is called a onesie...which..actually is also what they call the ones babies wear so I guess you're a bit right.”

Now he was laughing too and neither of you could stop.

----

In the morning Dr. Banner smiled triumphantly as he strode into the isolation room. He held up two little syringes and said, “I've got it, you two! I hope you haven't torn each other's throats out after we unzipped the barrier.”

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the two of you curled up together in a pile of blankets and pillows. The laptop was still streaming movies you had long since fallen asleep during. Loki's hand was around your shoulders and your sleepy head was resting in the crook of his neck. Sometime during the night, you had even convinced Loki to don your extra onesie (a black cat). Then, dressed up like animals, you had snuggled together and drifted off that way.

Bruce smiled, chuckled and walked right back out, deciding to let you both sleep a little longer.

He shrugged and quipped, “Guess it was a good slumber party.”

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#loki fanfic #loki asks #loki x gender neutral reader #loki #lovely fanfic friends #sas #mcu loki #loki fluff #lovely asks #lovely anons

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purple-babygirl · 3 years ago

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hi im not sure if you’re taking requests so you can ignore this if you’d like, but i really liked your mafia bucky fic !! and i was wondering if you could do one where maybe someone breaks into the house and the reader has to force themselves to be big for a little bit just so they can fight them off and then she runs to the little safe room and goes little there and Bucky finds her there and comforts her and it’s just all fluffy? sorry if this is so specific i just loved the last fic sm 😅

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word count: 1,958

Warnings: reader gets attacked (includes harassment and mentions of violence, cursing, guns), reader gets hurt, mentions of killing, Bucky's softness (yes it's a warning), ddlg dynamics.

A/N: I've been holding onto this one for forever now I'm really sorry for taking so long, dear nonnie🥺 it means the world to me that you liked mafia!daddy!bucky and i hope i delivered with this one and that you like it as much, love. Please enjoy ily xx💜

safe

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You can do this.

It all happened too fast. She woke up to guns shooting, Bucky’s men yelling at each other before all the voices suddenly stopped and the door to their bedroom was violently kicked open.

She didn’t even have time to scream before she was dragged from under the large bed by her ankle.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just like Daddy taught you.

“Let go! You don’t wanna do this!” she shrieked, warning the person trying to snatch her off the floor, her leg kicking as she struggled to flee his vice-like hold.

She’d suddenly forgotten every single self-defense move Bucky has ever taught her and was thrashing in panic.

“Oh, I don’t?” the man laughed, his grip painful on her limb as he tried to get on top of her.

She screamed when he dug his fingernails in the flesh of her shin, forcing her legs apart.

“Such a delicate little thing.” He licked his lips when he drew blood, running his gun up her bare leg, pressing down when it reached her inner thigh, “beg me to let you go.”

The words infuriated her big self. If Bucky had taught her one thing that she could never forget it was how dear and precious she was.

“Do you know who my man is?” Her free foot collided with the intruder’s chin, hitting him just right for his teeth to slam together, making him groan and loosen his grasp.

“I beg no one for nothing.” She spat, clumsily standing up, rushing inside Bucky’s large walk-in closet.

“You’re gonna regret that, you little bitch!” The masked man threatened, banging his fist on the door, “I’m gonna make that man of yours weep blood over your dead slut body!”

Her breath was coming out in puffs as tears blurred her vision. With trembling fingers, she moved Bucky’s hung-up suits to the side, revealing the metal door to the panic room.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just a bit longer.

She could hear the man take a few steps back and she knew he was going to shoot the closet open. Her shaky fingers pushed the buttons and typed the number code, the date of the day Bucky had asked her to be his.

I feel safe knowing I have you, angel, so it’s only fit that we make it the safe room code, he'd told her with a playful shrug.

She slid inside as soon as the door moved, pushing her back against the concrete wall, trying to take her breath. The door clicked shut right before the wooden one to the closet was thrown open.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You got this.

She let out a relieved sigh that broke into a sob as she tiredly slid down the wall, still hearing the scary man curse, bang and shoot on the safe room door.

Where was Bucky? She couldn’t hold on any longer. This wasn’t a situation she wanted to be present in. Her body started folding up, taking fetal position as her mind led her to the safer side against her better will. Even her fists closed upon themselves, tears leaving her eyes and traveling down the bridge of her nose. She was losing consciousness of her present surroundings, pictures of Bucky’s eyes spreading in her vision instead of the dull, grey walls of the room.

She was crying too loudly to hear the firing of Bucky’s gun right outside the door or the peeping of the door as it slid open once again.

“Angel!” Bucky’s voice sounded so distant. She felt like she was drowning with how muffled his calls were to her ears.

Seeing her body shake with sobs on the floor like that made Bucky want to walk out and shoot the man’s dead body again and again until he couldn’t be identified.

How dare they send someone here? How dare they violate the sanctity of his home? They were certainly not going to live another day to repeat or repent from their sins.

“Angel, are you hurt?” He kneeled beside her, gently untangling her limbs to check if she was wounded anywhere.

Aside from a couple of nasty scratches by her ankle, she was physically okay and Bucky could breathe a little better as his body sagged on the floor.

He swallowed and lifted her on his lap, signaling his men to leave when they stepped in the room to check if they were needed after ‘cleaning up’.

“Get me water.” Was all he said and they were running to the nearest fridge.

“I’m sorry, my angel. I’m here now. You’re okay.” Bucky mumbled, lips hovering over her temple.

“Dada.” Her body leaned into his warmth but her cries didn’t stop and Bucky could only hold her closer as he tried not to let guilt rip him apart.

She was like that now because of him. Had he been a normal man with a normal life, she would’ve been safer. She didn’t deserve to be startled awake only to be chased by a criminal in the middle of the night. She didn’t deserve any of the bullshit that hit her because she was with Bucky.

He kept planting kiss after kiss to her head, wishing he could go back and be there to protect her.

“Shh, you’re okay, my angel. You’re safe,” he kept telling her as he supported himself up with her in his arms.

Her cries were dying down and she was getting comfier in Bucky’s protective hold, fingers digging in his shoulders afraid he would leave again.

“Please, calm down, baby. I’m here. No one can hurt you, angel.” Bucky took her out and to the bathroom so he could take a look at her leg.

“Baby, are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked after sitting her down on the cold counter.

Instead of answering, she pressed her forehead to his chest and kept sniveling, hands clutching Bucky’s jacket. She wasn’t ready for him to let her go yet. She may be too far gone but her body knew it needed to be close to Bucky’s.

“Baby, please come back to me,” Bucky begged, tears threatening to spill from his once hard, cold eyes.

“Angel,” his thumb brushed her cheek and she finally looked up to him.

“Dada, I was so scared.” She sobbed, shaking at the memory.

“I’m sorry, my angel.” Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead, “I’m here with you, baby. No need to be scared anymore.”

“That man- he-” she hiccupped.

“You’re okay, angel. Breathe.” Bucky stroked her back warmly as she buried her face in his chest again.

He took the bottle of water from one of his men, waving him out of the bathroom.

“Here, baby, drink some water.”

She wouldn’t move. She just wanted to be close to Daddy. She was scared and Bucky was safety. He was home.

“For me, baby. Just a tiny sip.” Bucky twisted the bottle cap open, gently cupping her cheek to coax her away from his body.

His heart swelled when she leaned her damp cheek on his palm, enjoying the warmth. Her smaller hand cupped his and her eyes closed, her face further pressed into Bucky’s hand as a soft sigh escaped her lips.

Bucky bit his lip, holding back the waterworks. He should’ve been here; should’ve prevented it all from happening. His thumb brushed her chin and she opened her eyes.

“Drink a little, angel.” Bucky offered a kind smile.

She nodded, sitting up straighter, her lashes wet with tears as she looked up to Bucky, her gaze holding no blame.

He brought the bottle to her lips and she gulped down, the chilled water soothing her sore throat.

“Better?” Bucky cocked his head to the side and she nodded, sniffing.

Bucky bowed, holding his forehead against hers. He just wanted to feel her breathe soundly; wanted to make his mind stop telling him he almost lost her forever.

“Dada.”

“Yes, my angel.” Bucky pecked her lips.

“My leg hurts.” Her voice was awfully small as she pointed to the burning scratches ruining her beautiful skin. Bucky wished he could hide her between his ribs in place of his heart.

“Daddy’s got you, angel.”

Bucky cleaned her wound, apologizing with a kiss to her cheek every time she hissed. He had her tell him what happened to distract her and it worked. She wanted him to be proud so much she eagerly told him all about kicking the bad man. Tears gathered in her eyes once again when he applied ointment but she continued with her story, Bucky’s smile keeping her calm.

“Angel, you were so brave! I’m so proud of you, baby.” Bucky kissed her bandaged leg, “how did you do that?!”

“Kept thinkin’ dada thoughts.” She hugged Bucky again.

Bucky was a puddle on the bathroom floor. She was telling him she was brave like that because she was thinking of him through it all. He adored her so much he didn’t know who he was if not her man.

“I promise this is the last time you would ever have to go through anything like that,” Bucky assured, chuckling lovingly when she squeezed him harder and nodded.

She believed Bucky. She knew he could keep her safe. This wasn’t a usual occurrence, Bucky’s always made sure she was protected. She had no doubt anything would change. She trusted her Daddy with all her heart.

Bucky knew that and it scared him to death. He was scared one day he might not be up to the trust she’d put in him. He feared disappointing her; not being there for her in time. He was terrified a day would come where he might let her down.

“Never again. You’re safe, my angel. You’re always safe with me.”

Bucky’s soft lips placed a languishing kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were next, Bucky kissed her eyelids and under her eyes. Then he left wet kisses on both cheeks before pecking her nose. She smiled shyly when he pressed his mouth to the corner of hers.

“I love you, angel,” Bucky whispered against her lips before kissing her.

Bucky carried her back to their bed. The room was organized again, nothing was out of place and she was in Daddy’s arms. She was safe once more.

Bucky held her to his chest all night, his mind too loud to let him fall asleep. She went back to bed almost immediately though. Bucky’s presence was all it really took for her to feel peaceful enough to close her eyes and dream again.

When she moved out of his embrace in her sleep, Bucky carefully left the room and went to his office to review the security cameras footage. He knew watching the attack would make his blood boil again but he had to see what happened and how the unlucky asshole got inside his mansion.

While she already told him she’d defended herself, Bucky was the proudest seeing it unfold on the screen.

“Do you know who my man is?... I beg no one.”

The words brought the largest smile to Bucky’s lips. He was so proud of his angel; so amazed by her courage. He thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did and he was wrong. His heart has picked the right girl and for that he was grateful. Bucky took one last look at the shining ring in his top drawer before shutting it and walking back to continue cuddling his precious sweetheart.

Tags: @harrysthiccthighss, @tinystudentfirepurse, @lavendercitizen

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shwazzberryswriting · 2 years ago

Text

The Promise of a Duke

Pairing: Jaehyun x F Reader

Genre: One Shot, AU - Regency Fantasy Romance (Not Period Accurate), Fluff and Smut

Summary: Lord Jaehyun Jeong, newly wed, won't stop smoking until a baby is on the way…

Word count: 3k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature/Not Beta Read, Not Period Accurate (specifically the cigarette smoking), Explicit Sexual Content: Vaginal Fingering, Creampie, Cum Play, Multiple Orgasms, Breeding Kink, Exhibitionism

Minors DNI! 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note:

First: Part 2 of my Neohub Kinktober Event!!! I had a free day and I found that this fic fit under the "Breeding" kink for the event, fell on the same day as my first Kinktober fic, so I utilized my free time to post 2 fics in one day! Check out my own personal Kinktober List** which has a couple fics that won't be a part of the Neohub event!

Second: This was requested!!! Nonny OP Please forgive me for taking so long to fulfill this request!! 😭 🙏 I hope this fulfills your fantasies! I read the request when Bridgerton teasers were coming out and inspired me to make this fic regency fantasy romance!!

Apologies in advance for any mistakes!! 💚

Happy Halloween! Enjoy this awesome holiday! 🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡

Please let me know of any technical errors or if you have feedback/questions

Sweet tobacco tickled her sinuses, waking her. Sitting up, she placed a hand over her mouth. Curls at the front of her bonnet unfurled as she sneezed, loosened tendrils blocking her vision.

Pushing them behind her ears, she saw her husband at the foot of the bed. The thick curtains were pulled back. Illuminating full moon radiating into her bed chambers.

The right side window swung open as he stared out into the indigo night, bare back to her. Top of his trousers hanging off his hips, threatening to slip down.

His lean statuesque pose was breath-taking. Perfect model for an Italian Renaissance artist with every muscle flexing and glowing.

“Jaehyun, dear,” she called out, stepping out of bed, “you’ll catch a cold without a tunic, or robe at least.”

“It’s hot,” he replied, opening his left arm to her, turning around slightly. Smooth, gentle voice to match his gaze. Eyes so dark she fell into an abyss, consumed by his focus on her. “I was admiring the moon.”

In nothing but her nightgown, her whole body lit up with goose pimples. The night’s chill seeped into her skin. His embrace warmed her shoulders.

His cigarette smoke infiltrated her senses, her mind hazy and flustered. She sneezed into her hands, multiple curls coming undone with her bonnet deflating over her forehead.

“I wish you’d give that up,” she said, looking at the moonlight reflected onto his milky skin, pushing her bonnet out of her face. The contrast of his black tendrils over his porcelain forehead reminded her of the earthy taste of Jaehyun’s skin. Saliva building at the back of her throat. “My father left my mother a widow when I was 8. He’d coughed blood, and still smoked. Do you wish to make me worry so much?”

“Come, my wife,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke out the open window, “I promised you on our wedding night that I’ll give up my vices once we start our family. I fully intend to keep my word.”

Fingers at her hip pinched, the grip painfully sharp even with the layer of fabric covering her. Goose pimples flared up to her tits, fire rushing into the pit of her stomach. Their eyes locked, a shadow over his eyes as his lips curved up gently. Her mouth dried as her heat engulfed her face.

“How can we start a family when you’re smoking and not in bed with your wife then, husband?”

He chuckled, eyes squinting as his set of perfect teeth shone in the moonlight.

“How do you want to try our family planning tonight, my love?”

He let her go, snuffing the cigarette against the ashtray on the windowsill. She ran a hand over his chest, appreciating the warmth and softness of his skin. Lady Masscaster described her husband’s skin like worn leather, rough on the fingertips. but the Duke of West Goroa, Jaehyun Jeong, was of the most expensive material on earth: gold.

He was smooth, strong yet pliable. Her right hand palmed over his hip, pushing his trousers down his hips.

Tongue licking her husband’s chest, gliding toward his nipple, her senses filled with his metallic musk. His skin tasted fresh and cool. Minty with the mossy dew she’d inhaled in the forest during wet morning horseback rides.

“Careful, love.” He grunted, hand slipping away from the curtains to her wrist. His manhood was warming up in her fist. Heat rushing to her head blurred her vision. “Squeeze me too hard and my seed will spill all over that pretty gown.”

“This old thing?” She laughed, releasing his stiffening member. He pulled her front up against his. “Just an old nightgown for bedtime. Are you going to sleep in bed with me for once, Jae?”

She turned away from the hot touch of his fingers pinching her breast. His guffaw into the crook of her neck lit up her body in goose pimples.

“Do you find it humorous that you’re still called the Cad of West Goroa?”

“Are you unsettled by the name calling?”

She yelped as he scooped her up in his arms, throwing her top half over his shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist.

“Beast! You feral beast! I am your wife and you’re carrying me like a-like a Neanderthal!”

“That’s your husband you’re slandering,” he said with a heavy sigh, as if her words were wearing him down, not his lack of sleep. “What sort of beast did you marry?”

He laid her onto the bed, dying flames from the fireplace the only source of light in the room. His face was hidden in the shadows but she felt his smile against her skin, a sweet chuckle into the crook of her neck. Resting his body over hers, his knee widened the parting of her legs.

“Well, you’ve spent your evenings at the gambling halls, coming home when I’m rising to prepare for us to break fast. How am I to trust you aren’t gambling away our fortunes? Where have your hands and your…your honor been at all hours of the night? Your dainty wife is asleep at home.”

“Do I not make love to you enough?”

She moaned as his hand went between her legs, fingers gliding up and down against her slit, curling the thin cloth of her nightdress into her folds. Hips thrusting against his touch, she failed to resist her desires. Hands pulling her gown up to give him better access.

Jaehyun didn’t often make love to her at night in their bed chambers, but he always fucked her after they broke fast. Often, he’d lock them in the bath together and spill his seed into her.

Other times he’d have her in his study, on his large oak desk before settling down to focus on his paperwork. When he’d rise for supper, they’d make love not just in his chambers, but hers as well.

Her chest swelled at the thrill of the rare opportunity to fuck late at night in her bed chambers.

Wet tip sliding up against her folds, he hissed. Her spine shook, nipples aching. One hand gripping her fleshy thigh, he pushed his cock into her. Their lips connected, his arms hooking under her thighs.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him hard. Tongue shoving against his teeth, lips sucking his. Every push of his hot manhood into her encouraged her to hold him tighter.

“You’ll give me as many children as I want,” his breath was at her throat. Her arms loosened with her nails creating pink trails along his milky shoulder blades as his pushes quickened. “Fill you with my seed, wife. A house full of babies, this is my dream for us.”

“Jaehyun!”

His smokey breath consumed her. Alcohol on his tongue filling her senses. Her insides lit up with his cum.

He refused to release her lips. Hands grabbing her face, his tongue thrust in and out of her mouth. The weight of his hips were heavy as he kept himself deep inside of her. Softening cock still making her feel full.

“Has Doctor Kim visited?” His gentle voice was at her ear. A heavy kiss on her shoulder. “Florence befriended the Parisian healer-” “They’ve all visited Monday,” she replied, hand caressing his neck. “I’m well. Flo said it can take time. The healer suggested that I take a little honey in my tea for blood flow.”

“Do you still believe that will encourage more babies?”

“Her advice has helped at least ten couples. The Duchess of Waignberg had twins.”

He pulled out of her, sitting up. Eyes shut, she threw her hands up to quiet her moan. Jaehyun thrust two fingers deep inside of her.

“A personal theory of mine.” Her walls instinctively constricted around his long fingers as he rutted shallow pushes into her. “I need to hold you like this to ensure my seed remains inside of you.”

He was silent as his fingers stilled. Her pussy walls continued to squeeze his fingers, her hips shaking.

Quivering breaths echoing along the walls, she thrust against his motionless wrist, riding out her orgasm. Both hands held onto his wrist between her legs. Nails marking him with more pink scratches.

“Let’s go to sleep, Jae.”

“Like this?” He spooned her. Middle finger in her cunt, he kissed her shoulder. “You’re so hot down here. I need to appreciate feeling you while I can.”

“If you’d just come to bed with me every night,” she said before moaning loudly. Her throat tightened as his thumb encircled her cum covered clit. “Jae!”

“After our first born arrives, it will be this every night, love.” Hand cupping her heat, he pressed a kiss on her shoulder again. “Once your body is healed. It’s my family before anything else.”

“Thank you, Stuart,” Jaehyun said to the stable boy. Handing Stuart his whip and cap, he pulled his gold plated watch from his pocket. “Prep the staff for dinner for the usual time. The Lady and I will put the horses away. We’ll need to have a bath drawn up in my chambers. Not hers.”

Stuart left abruptly as Jaehyun helped his wife dismount from her horse, a beautiful Connemara steed. Eloise had been Jayhyun’s wedding gift to his bride.

Elegant with beautiful shiny locks that radiated everywhere she went, Eloise matched her owner perfectly. Thanking the horse for a fun ride, she took the reins and led Eloise to her stall.

“I daresay, my Lord, you let me win today.” Her lovely locks were coming undone. Loopy tresses fell down, covering the nape of her neck. Dark forest hiding her luscious skin from his lips. His fingers curled against his leg the same ways her perfect skin caressed Eloise’s pearly silk fur. “Beating you by a whole five seconds? I haven’t ever beaten you by more than two seconds to spare. And matching your speed is difficult enough as it is.”

“You’re much too modest, my Lady.” His hands were on her hips. Planting a kiss on the crook of her neck, he inhaled. Sweet floral dew with a sharp sourness cutting through, he sucked up her sweat. “How can I keep up with you when you’re besting me day after day?”

“My Lord?”

“I need you,” he grunted, hands pulling up layers of fabrics to get to her cunt, “right fucking now.”

Fisting her skirts tight, he pulled her front against the stable wall, chest pinning her under him. One hand quickly undoing his breeches, he freed his painfully hot and aching rod. Nipping a trail of sharp kisses along her shoulders, he glided his wet, precum covered tip along her ass and slit. Fire shot to his balls as she remained quiet, hips thrusting gently against him.

“Every day-” his tip pushed against her hot entrance, mind spinning like a fever “-I need to fill you up more and more.”

They took in dry breaths of air together as he pushed into her. The squeeze of her walls forced his mind blank.

Sour manure. Sweet hay. Musty oak.

The pliable flesh that clung onto his cock was all he could focus on. Every fucking time he was inside he was instantly lost. Sucked right into her. Going in deeper. She clung tighter with every push.

He’d stopped going to the gambling halls. Every night, his need to fill up his wife before her bedtime took precedence. He enjoyed dinner more when he was depleted of energy from fucking her in his study in the late afternoon. A need to create something beautiful with her.

Now he was finding it difficult not to fuck her after watching her hair fly widely on horseback all afternoon. Focused only on her eyes lighting up as she passed him. Thunderous laughter echoing through the forest in utter ecstasy as her steed flew past his.

“I need you filled with my cum,” he rasped into her ear, balls deep inside of her. Cock feeling the all consuming squeeze of her succulent walls, he came into her. Hands grasping her hips tight he rutted shallow pushes into her. “Milk me!”

The pressure of her walls was so tight, the weight in his balls twisted up into his guts. Body rigid, he pressed her flat against the wall. The intense heat in his body slowly deflated, his grip at her hips loosening. They remained connected as he felt their mixed fluids dribble down their legs.

“I need to fill you with my seed the moment I think there is none left in you.” He pulled out of her. Immediately, his hand cupped her core, feeling the fluids seep through the cracks between his fingers. “Do you think we’ll have a boy or a girl first?”

“With you manhandling me so often lately,” she said softly, fingers from one hand wrapping around his wrist, “if we have a girl first it will be my way to remind you that I control your silly little dick.”

She cried out as he thrust his rock hard stick into her. It was too much too fast. He came into her in two gut punching spurts.

“I need you filled up with me,” he said, giving one harsh push into her. She grunted and he failed to suck up a high pitched mewl. Heavy breath with another hard jerk, he cleared his throat. “Our baby boy will be a reminder how much my cum has been inside of you for the past month.”

He released her. She turned around. Their lips were together instantly, her arms around his neck. Fingers grabbing his tresses, she hummed against his lips.

“I love you, Jae.”

“I love you, too.”

She wrung the handkerchief, knuckles throbbing with every twist. The sun was disappearing, and Jaehyun was still not home.

“Thank you, Marie.” Jaehyun’s plate was covered as her barely touched bowl of beef consomme was cleared away. “Prepare a glass of warmed milk with just a drop of honey, if you please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll take my milk in my chambers. No need to draw up a bath for me. You can go to bed after the house has been cleaned and prepared for tomorrow. I’ll take care of the Lord when he returns.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bidding the Lady of the house a good night, Marie left the dining room to execute orders for the manor’s night chores.

She paced before the fireplace until her cheeks burned from the heat. She was walking toward the front of the house when the front door burst open.

“Perfect timing!” Jaehyun’s eyes were tiny slits with his mouth wide open in a grin. Pearly square teeth gleaming. His arms were thrown out in the air. Like a jester on stage. “I’m in need of my wife’s sweet, comforting embrace.”

The acidic burn of tobacco singed her nostrils. Silver ash coated her mouth, the smoke taking up all of her senses. Eyes shut, her knees buckled.

Jaehyun called out her name, voice soft, but as clear as ever. Strong arms wrapping around her waist, he pulled her up against him, scooping her legs under one arm. The other hooked under her back, holding her firm.

“Are you ill?” He pressed a sickeningly sour breath against her lips. “Doctor Kim visited this morning, you said.”

“Jae.” She could only manage a soft sigh. Eyes shut, it hurt to even move. Her whole body spun. She wanted to retch what little soup she managed down for supper. But she mustn’t. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

His grip tightened. His breathing slowed. Heavy breath inward, slow even breath out; all through his nose. She pressed a palm over her eyes as he began to walk.

Doctor Kim and his wife - a midwife the doctor befriended through Jaehyun - Florence had assisted in an unexpected birth at the port. A French merchant Jaehyun worked with. The babe had arrived a month early, inside a rocking fishing boat.

It was years ago. When she thought of Jaehyun as a cad. His reputation was well known before they’d even laid eyes upon each other.

And yet. They’d fallen in love. Gotten married despite apprehensions from both families. Now they were truly starting their own family.

“How was that determined?” He laid her down gently on the bed. Kisses warming her cheeks and neck. Down her decolletage. A final kiss on her lips.

“They inspected the shape of my belly. It’s grown. My breasts feel so tender, Jae. That’s why I’ve been cumming so fast.”

“What filthy language from a mother.” He began undressing, fingers unfastening his cape. “I’ll have to fuck you with my mouth on your tits to shut myself up. And I don’t want to be too hard on you with our baby in you.”

“My lack of energy isn’t from you overworking me, love. I’m sharing my energy now.”

He was naked, cock glistening with heavy shadows from the fireplace’s flames. She shut her eyes, soft sigh puffing her lips before they parted. His body radiated against her, soothing her as they sunk into the mattress together. Reaching behind her, resting her hand against his stubbled cheeks, fingers prickling.

“I smoked for the last time hours ago. Had my last drink before coming home. Won my last gamble. I beat Viscount Nakamoto at poker when I received your letter.”

“Do you promise you’re giving up your vices?”

“I promise.” His arms around her waist squeezed her for a second. Lips on her neck. “It was hell waiting for Stuart to arrive with the letter.” A gentle hand caressed her belly “All night, I wanted to come home. Lay here with you. With a child on the way, we’ll have to prepare our home for them, and all the others to come after.”

Slowly, she turned around to face him. Hands on his shoulders, she kissed him. The tobacco turned her stomach worse than even just the day before. But she wanted him with her.

“I love you,” he said before kissing her. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow.”

“I love you so much, Jae.” She held him close, hands warmed by his bare skin. Silky skin with droplets of sweat collecting at her palms. “Good night.”

A final kiss on the lips he returned the affection. They came together, arms embracing each other.

---

Thank you always for reading!

#neohub events #neohub #neohubkinktober #nct smut #nct fiction #kinktober 2022 #nct #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun #nct au #nct fluff #regency au #nct fanfic #jaehyun fic #jaehyun

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

Note

Could I suggest the brothers reacting to MC confessing to them accidentally?

MC Confesses to the Obey Me! Brothers By Accident

AN: Cute prompt! Sorry I took so long to get to this, nonny! This post is romance based, so if you’re looking for something more platonic I’m sorry but this one’s not it ;u;

They’re literally almost all sleepy in these, I’m having a day where I find that really cute ^^”

Lucifer

Lucifer feels exhausted, half-dozing off at his desk when you walk in and poke him square on the forehead. It startles him enough that he sends you a harsh glare through his hair. You grin at him, and he responds only by scoffing and turning to the side, stretching his arms out. Well, he is grateful you woke him up to some degree - he has a lot of work to get done and has to remain focused.

But there’s something enchanting about how he looks and moves when he’s too tired and trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to remain guarded. He’s graceful as always, but allowing someone to see him looking, for a lack of a better term, like his feathers were thoroughly ruffled and he was ready to turn in for the night, was a rare treat, and one sweet enough to crush your own walls.

By the time you realise you’ve just admitted to liking him aloud - something simple, but he knows what you mean when you say that maybe you like him a little too much, mumbled under your breath mindlessly - he’s already standing in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face with an unreadable expression.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he requests - or demands, its hard to tell - that you repeat what you just said. "I like you?" you say, although it sounds like a question, and he smiles and asks, "Are you sure? You don't sound it," with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You don't get to respond before he hums and straightens up, crossing his arms. "How much?" he asks, sitting against the front of his desk and watching you carefully.

"What do you mean, how much?" you sigh, frustrated. This proud man was getting on your nerves. Its not like confessing is easy, planned or not, and he had the gall to tease you about it?

"How much do you like me?" Lucifer's smile widens. When you don't respond, and you start to look somewhere on the edge of hurt, he sighs, rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing his pen unceremoniously onto the desk. He opens his arms and waits for you to walk into them, thoroughly confused by this entire interaction. "I like you too. I thought I'd get to confess first, but it seems you were so determined to beat me to it you did it without thinking."

You blush and glare up at him. That proud smile of his is softer around the edges now, and his hair is still just messy enough from where he's been running his hands through it whilst working that it makes your heart race. You lean into him, press your face against his chest, and release all your pent up emotions in a sigh. Lucifer responds with a chuckle, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Would you like some tea, my dear?"

[[Others under the read more!]]

Mammon

- You two tended to relax together. Things were stressful, it was hard being in a new world and Mammon had been the first to befriend you, even if he refused to admit how much he cared for you most of the time.

But he's tired now, and its a little different. He'd brought over a blanket again and he was on the floor of your room, where he tended to spend a lot more of his nights now, but also where he'd found a place for himself since the very beginning when you first arrived. He leans up on his elbow and looks up at you, and you watch him in turn from the bed. You'd just been talking about something or other but now he's simply grinning at you, something devilish and handsome, and you can't stop yourself.

"I really like you," you half-whisper, and then cover your mouth immediately as if you can stop him from hearing it, can stop the words from leaving and making their way to him. They don't, and he tilts his head, face slowly turning red.

"Huh? What'd you just say?" he asks, sitting up and staring at you. His eyebrows twitch down into a frown, and he looks puzzled, and almost a little bit hurt? "D'you mean it?"

Before you can respond, he barks out a laugh and lays down, staring at the ceiling and covering his face with one arm. “Ah, yeah. We’re friends, right? I like you too.”

You shake yourself out of your stupor to glare at him. “I don’t mean as friends, Mammon.”

He sits up again, looking offended. “What, so we’re not even friends now? Wow! Way to break it to me.”

“You-” you half-growl, before taking a deep breath. Your face is burning, and he’s maybe starting to piece things together, but you can’t stand any more of this. “I like you. I want to go on dates with you, and be your partner, and spend as much time with you as possible. I like seeing your smile when I wake up and knowing I have someone I can trust.”

His jaw drops open and he turns away, covering his face with one hand. “Gimme a second,” he mumbles, and when he looks back at you there are tears in his eyes and he’s grinning. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon!”

His voice catches, and then he’s laughing and crying and you scramble out of your bed to kneel next to him, startled and concerned. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him.

“I like you too, MC.” He kisses the top of your head, watery giggles still rattling through his chest.

Leviathan

In all fairness, neither of you were expecting it. It was late, or maybe it was early? You could never really tell in the Devildom, and you didn’t want to move right now for fear of ruining the moment.

Levi was curled up against your side, eyes fluttering closed and then bolting open again as he tried to focus on whatever show he was supposed to be presenting to you. He’d been talking through a lot of it, and you still had the remote in one hand so you could pause it to listen to him properly each time without missing anything. After about an hour of that, he’d started to look tired, and then eventually flopped down against your side, defenseless and unworried, too tired to really process what he was doing.

Your other arm was wrapped around his shoulder, touch featherlight on his jacket for fear of startling him. He was cute, adorable even, and whilst you quite enjoyed seeing him flustered, it was nice to see Levi free of it as well, even if it was a spell only going to last until he woke up a little more.

That moment, as it were ought to, came quite soon. The episode was fading out and the outro music just starting to play when you mumbled, “God, I really do like you.”

Without warning, Levi sits bolt upright and headbutts you in the process, clinging onto his own head as he stares at you with wide eyes and a tomato-red face.

“H-h-huh?” he stutters, lowering one hand to cover his mouth. You fan at your own - he’d made you bite your tongue, and you were trying to process things when he started to mumble to himself at a mile a minute.

“There’s no way you could mean you like-like me right? I mean, I’m me. And you’re you. Why not one of my brothers, or even Lord Diavolo? He’s going to be the king soon! And-”

“Levi, please, one moment,” you groan. Your chin and mouth were sore and you needed a second, and even if you were planning to confess to him sooner or later it really wasn’t like this, and you didn’t need him denying your feelings so soon. You take a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside a little. Levi helps; he hands you a cold can of something or other, purses his lips until they become nothing but a thin, worried line, and waits.

You start laughing soon after. “I do like you. You, Levi. And I know I could spend all day explaining why and you still wouldn’t accept it, so I’m just going to need you to trust me.” You look at him, nervous and already feeling thoroughly rejected, and smile. “You don’t need to return my feelings, but I hope you can accept them as the truth, at least.”

Levi tears up, and he nods, gripping the bottom of his jacket in both hands. His face takes on too many different expressions in those painfully silent moments, and then he opens his mouth, trying to force something out. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“I l-like you too, MC.” He sighs, clenches his hands tighter as he tries not to stammer too much through his words. “I... I...” He laughs, then, holds his head. “It hurts, so its not a dream, right?” His smile is small but glorious, and you can see his sharp teeth. “Yeah. I like you. And you l-like me?”

You take his face in your hands and laugh. “I like you.” He’s bright red but continues to grin anyway, and you poke at his cheeks with your thumb, smiling in kindness.

Satan

Satan is curled up in one of the few tidier parts of his room, and you sit somewhere close by, occasionally glancing up to look at him over a stack of books.

The mess had been more disturbing at first - there were books everywhere, and he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to you knocking down a stack or two of them. He wouldn’t lose his temper, not at you - he hadn’t in a long time, not since before you’d made a pact with him. And despite how awkward it was to try to find a little space big enough for you to sit in every time he requested you come to his room instead of the library or your own, it was nice having that place and knowing you fit there, with him and all of his precious books.

He chuckles and pulls you back to reality, and you’re glad he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You look down at your book and back up again in a weak attempt to cover up what you’d been doing, and Satan smiles all too knowingly, as he often did, and tips his book at you.

“Listen to this, MC,” he says, voice somewhere between cheeky and amused. He’d definitely caught you staring. You blush but tilt your head all the same, curious, and he continues. “It’s a human world story about an admirer who can only ever sneak glances at the person they admire over the top of books. How charming is that?” His bold smile was annoying and handsome at once.

“It’s daring of you to assume I was actually looking at you,” you grumble. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“But you didn’t deny the admirer part, hmm?” Satan laughs. He doesn’t mean anything by it, isn’t really making assumptions. He’s just trying to poke at you a bit, trying to feel out your reactions so he can better guess at them in future ahead of time. He did that often, and it was something you were getting used to. But this time he was right, and it was a little bit different.

“I can’t deny what’s true,” you mumble at your book. It was quiet, and usually he’d be so engrossed in his own again that he wouldn’t hear you, but you don’t hear pages turning, can’t feel the aura Satan has when he’s thoroughly engrossed in something.

You look up at him and he’s still looking at you, puzzled smile and flushed cheeks catching you off guard. Oh no.

“Do you like me, MC?”

Satan sounds unsure, and you can only swallow and nod as if you weren’t admitting to something you’d planned to keep to yourself for so much longer. Maybe you’d have told him someday in the future, when you were long back in the human world and had met someone else, or were at least starting to get over your feelings. But no. You’d just gone and done it now, with books piled precariously on either side of you and the subject of your affections staring at you, dumbfounded, over an unsteady pile of them.

He absorbs your words slowly, and you know you can’t stand and rush out of there without knocking over enough books to piss him off, so you stay and wait. So what if he knew? Satan wouldn’t get mad about something like that, and he was respectful enough to just ignore it and get on with his life. If it were Lucifer, he might tease you about it, but Satan won’t. And if he reciprocated?..

“Ah, that’s good then,” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He lets out an airy laugh, and you can tell that as much as he’s trying to hide it, he really is feeling flustered. “I was never sure. But, hmm...” Satan clears his throat, looks at you and genuinely smiles now, showing you something deeper than the usual facade he put up to make himself appear like more than just his anger. “I like you too, so its quite convenient, isn’t it?”

You laugh, then, and a weight leaves your shoulders... only to bring on a new one. Your sudden movements topple one of the book piles beside you, and Satan lunges forward to try to catch some of them before they can hit you as you protect yourself with your arms.

When the last one falls, you hear Satan groan as he sits up and pushes the books off of the two of you. He looks around, grins, and then laughs before offering you a hand.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” His emerald green eyes sparkle in the low light, just bright enough to read. “Shall we go out somewhere else? I’d love to take you on a date.”

Asmodeus

(Mildly suggestive at parts. Sorry ;u;)

It was a weekly tradition, to go to Asmo’s room and put on a face mask and relax. He gossiped, although it was harmless - there was no judgements passed on anyone - and you listened and offered insight on things. Asmo would show you whatever new makeup or perfume or clothes he’d gotten, would sometimes go for a full impromptu fashion show, or would rest his head on your thighs and let you run your fingers through his delightfully soft hair.

Today, it was the latter. You’d missed last week for some reason or other - Mammon had probably distracted you, or Lucifer dragged you off somewhere with him, not giving the chance for you to refuse. Sometimes the brothers did it intentionally; rather than setting up their own days to spend with you, they had decided to sabotage your days with Asmodeus instead. You were able to prevent it most of the time, to sneak off to his room or at least away from whoever was trying to draw your attention, but after missed weeks where you couldn’t find enough excuses or an escape route, Asmo tended to cling to you and not let go, begging for some affection. It felt best from you, he’d said once, and you were sure he was joking, because Asmo often commented about how he’d done much more with others in the past and surely you petting his hair and listening to him didn’t compare to that, right?

He opens his eyes now, and looks up at you from your lap. His eyes were always startling, because they were incredibly intense even if his powers didn’t work on you. They were beautiful, as well, much like the rest of him, and your gaze flutters away after a bit because you know they’ll draw you in and force you to admit to things you don’t feel ready to talk about yet.

Asmo chuckles, and you wind a hand through his hair and pull it slightly, frustrated. He pouts at you, face colouring, and you perhaps regret it.

“Don’t be a tease. You’ll ruin my hair if you pull at it like that,” Asmo whines. “I mean, of course I don’t mind that much, but-“

You cover his mouth and shush him, tutting as you put your hand back in his hair and played with a lock or two. Asmo only laughs again, and you can’t help but think how he’d only adore making you more and more flustered, and would even risk irritating you so long as he got to see you a blushing mess. He didn’t push too far, though - he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and more than that he’d be left on his own with no one to run their fingers through his hair if you decided to leave because of it. Or, well - he could easily find someone willing to do so, but it wouldn’t be you, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes again and you feel it tug at your heart, something like a desire, but maybe more innocent than what he was used to drawing out of people. You pause, and Asmo opens his eyes to look up at you again, confused, and when met with that gaze, you can’t really hold it back the words that had been threatening to spill for weeks, now, and moreso on days like this when he was seeking delicate affections and smiled at you so beautifully it made your breath catch.

“I like you, Asmodeus,” you half-whisper, and you know he’s heard it because his eyes are wider now and you can see the yellow of his iris, and you half think to push him square off your lap and book it, but then he’s kneeling in front of you with a firm grip on your wrist.

Asmo’s mouth opens and closes, like he isn’t sure what to say. Something like ‘do you mean it?’ or ‘of course you like me, who doesn’t?’ or, maybe, ‘I like you too, love you even!’ Nothing comes out, everything jumbling together in his head. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, as he was a stickler for keeping his composure in almost any situation - it was attractive to be in control of your emotions, wasn’t it? But the silence was painful, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, because as much as Asmo’s mind was racing right now, you weren’t psychic. You couldn’t tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to confess.

Eventually, Asmo settles on doing something he knows how to do better than finding the perfect words for this. He leans forward, hesitates as if checking you were okay, and then kisses you. It’s soft and gentle and not nearly as deep as what he momentarily considered making it, but it’s just right for a confession. He pulls back only to kiss you again, and this time smiles against your mouth when you kiss him back. When you smile too, he throws his arms around your shoulders and laughs, burying his face against your neck and pressing light kisses against the skin there, too, although you can still feel him smiling too much to do it properly.

In the end, it’s not really said aloud, but you know what Asmo is trying to say. He likes you, too. And he is so, so incredibly happy.

Beelzebub

9 times out of 10, when you get the urge to go to the kitchen for some reason - to cook, to get a drink, or to get a snack - Beel can be found there. The main rooms in the house he goes between are the common room, where he spends time with his brothers, his own bedroom, and, of course, the kitchen. And lo and behold, here he is now, eating something you can’t actually recognise and talking to Belphie, who slumps against the counter, half-asleep, but offers you a tired smile when you enter the room.

Beel himself doesn’t notice your presence until Belphie stands up and stretches, looking between you and Beel pointedly. Maybe you had been obvious, or maybe it was because Belphie was actually quite sensitive to people’s emotions when he decided to be and when it involved Beel, but he would often leave you alone with his brother if you bumped into the two of them, as if he were trying to give you a chance. His knowing smirk as he passes you on the way out, mumbling a quiet and lazy goodbye, didn’t help.

“Ah, MC!” Beel beams, and your breath catches. Generally, Beel looked quite pissed off. It was just his resting expression, and you knew he was content or thinking about the next meal he’d have, or something like that. But when he smiled? If you didn’t think it might offend him, you would absolutely compare it to that of seeing an angel. His expression hid nothing, betrayed his delight, and he grinned every single time without fail whenever he greeted you, unless he was seeking you out because he’d had a disagreement with Belphie and needed support.

And now as he stands in the kitchen, unknown food in hand and delighted smile on his face, you consider telling him he’s beautiful. Not like Asmo, not in the same sense. But he truly was stunning, and you wanted him to wear his smile with pride for eternity. He deserved to be so happy, and it would be a nice treat for you, too, to be able to see that expression anytime you wanted. You might sell your soul for that much, you joke dryly to yourself.

Beel looks puzzled when you return from your thoughts, and you realise you haven’t even greeted him yet. Perhaps that was how Belphie had noticed.

“Beel!” you chirp, and you think maybe he grins wider when you say his name, although it’s hard to tell. You lean against the counter where Belphie had been resting. “Did you find something nice to eat?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then seems to consider something before he closes the fridge and stands beside you, resting against the counter too. “Do you want to try some?” he offers, and you can’t help but think that he really only offered food to you and to Belphie, and what did that mean? Did he love you as much as his brother, and was it in the same way, or something different like how you felt for him?

“Am I being selfish by liking you so much?” you think. Or rather, say. Out loud. For him to hear. Unfortunately.

Beel freezes, and his ears go bright red. “You-.. hmm? What do you mean?” he asks, and you can tell he’s looking for a specific answer in the hopeful way he looks at you, but you don’t know what it is. If you admit to liking him and he sees you as a sibling, wouldn’t that be awkward? But if you lied you’d have to carry that with you, too, and it would be hard to correct in future.

You sigh and take a deep breath, and look at him, speaking with whatever confidence you can muster. “I like you, Beel. Would you be interested in... dating me?” You think to tell him that it’s okay if not, it’s okay if he’s not interested or he doesn’t want things to chance, it’s alright if he doesn’t think of you like that. But you can’t bring yourself to, and it’s too late anyone to take back what you’ve said, and what’s the point in confessing only to shut yourself down and reject your own advances before he even gets a chance to?

As you wait, Beel’s face steadily gets redder, and he seems to be fumbling through his own thoughts as if he can’t find the right one, the right answer to this question. And, eventually, he nods, and that smile returns, and your head spins because these last few minutes had been too much to deal with and now you have this huge demon grinning at you as if you’d just handed him the sun with a kiss on the cheek and promised him the world, too, on top of it.

“I like you too, MC!” he beams, and sweeps you up into his arms, food forgotten for the moment. You’d panic if his grip wasn’t so firm, and if you weren’t so sure he would never even risk dropping you. Beel’s eyes twinkle and you think you see a spark of mischief peeking through his delight before he holds you tight to his chest and spins, and you can only hold on and listen to his laugh. You bury your face against him and laugh, too, and you feel as warm and bright as his smile.

Belphegor

(Mild spoilers for up to lesson 16 / 17)

Although you thought you would be able to suss out where Belphie would be - as Beel had his places, Belphie had his own; the planetarium if he couldn’t sleep, so he could look at the stars and think without being disturbed, or the library if he was scheming with Satan, or the attic if he wanted to sleep and wasn’t in his room - you found that it was actually more tricky than that.

You see, after being released from the attic where he’d been trapped for months, Belphie found himself seeking out his brothers on odd occasions. He’d do so anyway, before all this nonsense had occurred, but now there was more meaning behind it. He’d missed them, and he liked to curl up and play games or just fall asleep near one of them. Finding him on those days was almost impossible, because he could be anywhere.

You almost feel like giving up on it - the two of you had agreed to spend time together, but he was nowhere to be found and was probably off sleeping somewhere with no idea what time it was - and felt thoroughly dejected when you bumped into Lucifer, who was quietly leaving the music room, movements near silent and with a gentle and rare smile on his face. When he sees you it vanishes, goes back to his usual expression as if he’d just put on a mask, but you can tell he’s concerned because he puts a hand on your back and leads you down the corridor with him. He only stops at the end of it and leans down to quietly ask if you were feeling okay.

“I’ve been looking for Belphie and I can’t find him anywhere,” you mumble, automatically responding at a similar level to him. It felt like you were sharing a secret. “We were supposed to go on a walk together.”

Lucifer smiles, then. “Ah.” He tilts his head, and for a moment considers telling you it’s a shame he can’t help, but you look so dejected he can’t bring himself to do it. “Now that I think about it, he did mention something like that before he fell asleep in the music room. I didn’t want to wake him up, but he might not mind if it’s you.”

He chuckles quietly when you cheer up, thanking him before you rush off back down the corridor and open the doors of the music room. You see Belphie sleeping on one of the seats near the piano - he’d probably been listening to Lucifer play something or other, and had passed out in the middle of it all.

You can’t help but smile as you crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair away from over his eyes. As usual, he doesn’t even stir - you weren’t sure if he was a light sleeper or a heavy one because it seemed to vary by the day. but most of the time you could get away with little things like this without waking him. It makes you consider just letting him rest until dinner. You would still have time to go for a walk after, and it’s not like anything would change - there was no day and night in the Devildom. It would remain just as cold and dark as it always was. Any time would be the best time to go out, really.

Belphie shifts in his sleep, and you watch as his hair falls back over his face. You stifle a laugh as you push it away again, allowing yourself to run your fingers through his fringe slightly. His hair is soft, delightfully so, and he looks so peaceful and cute whilst sleeping that you absentmindedly let out a sigh.

“I like you, you know?” you mumble, only just stopping yourself from poking him in the forehead, because that would wake him up and it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so right now. “I really do.”

And, much to your horror, Belphie half smirks and opens one eye. You let go of his hair and sit back on your heels, startled, and he stretches and yawns.

“You’re awake,” you say, as if you were accusing him of something, and he laughs.

“Someone decided they wanted to play with my hair,” he grins, lopsided and with sleep still filling his voice, pitching it lower than usual. He clears his throat. “How could I not wake up? And just in time to hear you confess, too!”

Belphegor sits up and watches you cheerfully, and you pout at him. He liked to tease you, but this feels like it should be a forbidden topic. Something he shouldn’t poke and prod at you about.

“I wish you’d just pretend not to have heard it,” you grumble, but it only makes him smile more, and he tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion. Before he can ask why, or tease you more, you cut him off, focusing your gaze on the floor. “It hurts to be teased about this. If you don’t like me it’s okay, but please don’t make me regret liking you.”

“And who said I didn’t like you?”

You look up at him again, and he only sighs and gets up off the bench to kneel in front of you. He looks like he’s waiting for an answer, or waiting for something at least, but when you don’t respond, he pats you on the head and stands, holding out a hand.

“Don’t we have a date to go on? Get up off the floor, it’s dusty,” Belphie says. You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you closer to him, half hugging you as you walk. He was a pain to deal with and he knew it, but he was determined to prove himself worth the effort.

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mmvalentine · 3 years ago

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prompt request for part 2 of your utm fic? pretty please? :)

NONNIE I ALMOST SAID NO hahaha honestly @asteria-of-mars is cooking up some WILD dark!Rhys and if you're looking to not know if you're turned on or horrified I can recommend her fic Undone. She is better at this than me. But okay I'll give this a little whirl just for you, because your please was so pretty.

Fuck You, Feyre Darling Pt 2 (Mercy)

Read Part 1

Guilty.

That's all that was swirling around in my head for the next two days: guilty, guilty, guilty. I was a bad person, I was a cheater, I was so full of shame I could have choked on it.

But then Rhysand appeared in the same corner of my cell that he always did, and I had a better idea of where to place my anger.

"You fucking prick," I spat at him. He just raised his eyebrows.

"Dear me," he said. "And just what have I done to raise your ire today?"

"You made me cheat on Tamlin," I said, knowing full well that was neither true nor fair.

"I didn't," Rhys said mildly, flicking a speck of lint off his lapel.

"You did," I snapped. I stepped up to him. "You and your fucking mind tricks." My chin jerked up to stare into his eyes. Most powerful High Lord in all of Prythian? I didn't give a damn.

"I assure you, I don't need mind tricks to coax females into my bed," Rhys said, and his unaffected air was infuriating.

"You forced me," I ground out. "Admit it."

"Admit something that's not true?"

"Admit it!"

"Why Feyre?"

"Because!" I yelled. "If I wanted it then I'm a terrible person and I'm here in this horrible place to save Tamlin only to find that I don't deserve him anyway." My voice broke on the last word, and to my horror, a sob cracked in my chest.

Not again, I thought. I couldn't bear the thought of breaking down in front of Rhys, not again. He already had so much of me.

But Rhys just stood there a moment, with his hands in his pockets. Then he said, "Fine," and then the world blurred and we were back in his room.

Rhys pushed me back onto the bed, and I fell, startled.

"So what, Feyre?" he asked. I realised with shock that he was angry. "What do you want?"

Despite the darkness of the room, his violet eyes seemed to glow brighter than ever.

"Do you want me to have forced you, so you don't have to feel guilty? Or do you want to be forced because you deserve to be punished?"

Rhys pulled his jacket off and threw it onto a chair by the wall. I shrank back against the headboard, suddenly nervous.

"Because see now, I may be a whore but I'll not have some mortal questioning my honour." He knelt up on the bed in front of me, and rolled up his sleeves.

"However, if you were after a punishment," he paused, and removed his belt to fold it in his hand. Then he gave me a grin that was all teeth and no smile at all. "You only had to ask."

The anger still coiled in his voice, and now, now I was scared of him.

I didn't know what I was expecting- I had goaded him, but not thought through what would happen next. And now here we were, back in his room, and I couldn't tell where my fear stopped and my anticipation began.

What I did know is that the heaviness of the shame in my limbs had been replaced by adrenaline and that was a trade I was only too happy to make.

"Well?" Rhys demanded. "Is the cruel little creature here to repent for her sins?

And Cauldron damn me to the deepest depths of hell, my lips parted and I whispered, "yes."

"Good," Rhys snarled, and then quick as lightning he had grabbed my ankle and jerked me back down the bed. Disappeared my clothes by magic, rolled me over onto my stomach, where I tried to drag myself away with my hands but he yanked me back by the hips and slapped me hard across the ass.

I gasped, as pain burst before my eyes. I forgot everything, I knew nothing at all expect for the flash of sensation, and then a flooding peace. Yes. This is what I deserved. Rhys buckled his belt around my ankles.

"Is this what you wanted?" Rhys hissed in my ear. I hadn't noticed him moving closer.

"Yes," I whispered. Rhys spanked me a second time, and that white hot flash popped in my vision again.

"Is this what you needed, you wicked mortal thing?"

"Yes," I said again, and it came out as a moan.

"Beg me," Rhys commanded. He landed three more stinging slaps, and I couldn't help but gasp at each one. "Beg me for mercy."

He smacked me once more, and leaned down to my ear again. "Beg me, and I will deny you."

And I would never know how to admit this out loud, not to Rhys, not to Tamlin, not to anyone. But it was exactly what I craved.

So I pushed my hips up toward Rhys, turned my face to the side, and breathed, "Mercy."

"No," Rhys replied coldly, and then I was spanked on the top of my ass, on the join to my thigh on either side, and then once right over my bare pussy.

The shock of the last had my fingers curling in the sheets. It was so unexpected that at first my legs clenched together automatically- but then as the pain faded it was replaced by a spreading heat and my muscles relaxed completely.

The next touch was a rub of his hand over my reddened backside and down between my legs, and where he had slapped me my skin was so sensitive I shook hard under his fingers.

"And now what, Feyre darling?" Rhys asked. His voice was low and dangerous. I rode the edge of pain and fear and pleasure, and couldn't form words. When Rhys stroked his hand down me again, I realised I was thoroughly wet from being spanked.

"Do you need to be fucked now?" he crooned.

"Yes," I said, and even though he wasn't touching me at all now, my breaths came in pants.

"Do you need to be pounded so hard it feels like you're not in control?" Rhys asked me.

"Yes," I repeated, not able to say any more than that for the shame of it.

"Beg me again," Rhys said.

"Please," I whimpered. "Mercy."

Rhys's fingers slipped back between my legs, finding my clit and rubbing tight, fast circles into it. My hips bucked at the suddenness of the motion, and then the pleasure began to pool. I wanted to push my knees apart on the bed to get closer to his touch, but his belt still bound by ankles together. I arched my back instead, and Rhys's steady rhythm had me careening toward my orgasm faster than I thought possible.

"Rhys," I moaned.

"Yes Feyre?" he said. "Are you going to come?"

"Yes, oh gods, yes," I said, and my toes curled as my climax crested-

And then Rhys pulled his hand away and slapped me across the backside instead.

I let out a frustrated groan, and Rhys purred, "Again."

It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted. Then, "please," I begged. "Mercy."

Rhys's fingers returned, but this time he was sliding them into me and moving infuriatingly slowly. I rocked my hips back and forth on his hand, trying to build his pace. It was almost enough.

"Please," I said again. Breathlessly. Desperately. "Please."

Rhys's fingers sped up and curled to that spot inside me, and then I was chasing my climax again. My head spun, then buzzed as I found-

Nothing. Rhys's fingers slipped out of me and I was spanked again, on the other side, and hot tears sprang to my eyes. A combination of the sudden pain and the sharper frustration.

"Please Rhys!" I cried out. "Please, please, mercy, please."

Rhys's voice in my ear, one more time. "Do you deserve it?" he asked. "Do you deserve pleasure?"

"No," I whispered.

"That's right," he replied. And then sank his cock deep inside me nonetheless.

Rhys was not gentle, Rhys did not give me time to acclimatise. Just pushed inside my already soaking pussy and fucked me hard with my ankles tied the entire time. As wound up as I was, he had barely gotten started when my orgasm slammed into me. I came soundlessly on his cock, tears blocking my throat, my lips mouthing his name into the sheets.

Once my high had subsided, Rhys pulled out, removed the belt from my ankles, and turned my over on my back. I was so wrung out I barely registered the movement. And then with a shocking gentleness, he came back to me. Pulled my legs around his waist and slid inside me again- but this time moved with a rolling consistency that had me building up again, coasting on the brink of pleasure rather than screaming toward it, and when this orgasm came I was in the middle of it before I had known it'd begun.

My back arched up into Rhys's arms and he pressed kisses down my sternum as I came, and then just when I thought I'd start coming down his hips got faster and his own release triggered a new wave for me, too. I held on to him as he shuddered into me, and it wasn't until he had rolled onto his back and pulled me into his chest that I realised he had stopped punishing me.

"Rhys?" I asked softly.

"Mm?"

"Am I a bad person?"

Rhys sighed into the dark, and when he spoke he did not sound like his usual, arrogant self. He just sounded tired.

"No Feyre," he said, "you're not a bad person."

"I'm betraying someone I love," I argued.

"We're Under the Mountain, now," Rhys said. "We're only just surviving. And here, that is enough.”

We lay there for a while longer, until I thought I could almost fall asleep there in the High Lord's arms. What an absurd thought.

"I'm ready to go back to my cell now," I whispered.

"In the morning," was all Rhys said, and then he turned us and tugged me back against his chest facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I gave in. After all, there would be plenty of time to feel bad about it all if we survived at all. And maybe that was a mercy I could grant myself.

****

Eeee stop making me go UTM anons, it's toooo sad I'm gonna leave this dark edgy shit to Liz now and go back to my palace of fluff 🥺🥺

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #smut #angst #mine #am I doing it?#am I writing dark!rhys now?

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

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Feral jaskier and himbo geralt are always lovely!!! “So many questions and not enough brain cells” was absolutely MAGNIFICENT

Nonnie, I am so happy you liked that line. It gave me a chuckle to write it too. Feral Jaskier and himbo Geralt are such a delight, I now feel the need to write a little more for you. Movie stars, stunt doubles and idiots ahoy!

Incidentally, this also seems to fit my @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo square ‘sharing a brain cell’.

Prompt: Sharing a brain cell Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier, Lambert/Eskel/Cahir/Aiden Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt is the star of a TV series with Jaskier as his on screen arch nemesis. Thankfully that rivalry doesn’t carry into real life.

The set was like a second home by that point. Geralt spent a good nine months of the year there, the crew feeling like family. It was their fifth season of filming, Geralt couldn’t quite get tired of the monster of the week format though. He loved it, loved how cheesy it was and the fact that it was a production that didn’t bait or bury their characters. The natural chemistry he’d had with Jaskier made it so much easier too. They had kissed on screen enough times that he was intimately familiar with the shape of Jaskier’s lips and the taste of the lip balm he wore. That had started three seasons ago and Geralt had been quietly wishing they could kiss away from the cameras too. So he had been planning, even seeking out the advice of those he trusted - namely Eskel and Lambert.

That had been a surprise friendship that Geralt had discovered. Eskel was brought in as he stunt double for more tricky shots. Usually, Geralt liked to do his own stunts but falling off a horse at a gallop was a little beyond him. As was surviving Jaskier’s rather flamboyant fighting style. Just for a laugh Geralt had sat in on a few of Jaskier’s training session and he was so very torn between laughing his arse off and feeling sorry for Cahir who was doing his best to help them train for their fight scenes. For all his patience and expertise, Jaskier seemed determined to add his own flair. The number of times Jaskier accidentally smacked Geralt, Eskel and Cahir during training and on takes was truly staggering. It could have been a blooper reel all on its own.

Thankfully it was a short day, something about a number of the crew requesting the evening off. As it was towards the end of filming, they were within the time budget, it had been declared that they could all have the evening off.

“Just make him a home cooked meal,” Eskel advised. “Guys love that, trust me.”

“It work for you?” Geralt was a little sullen and sceptic. He didn’t think a home cooked meal was what Jaskier would want. On screen they were enemies with a terrible habit of falling into bed. The reality probably wasn’t so far off either. Though, at least, they had become friends after a rocky start.

“Would I be celebrating my fifth anniversary this evening if it didn’t?” There was no small amount of entertainment in Eskel’s face. “It’s not like my looks are what draw anyone in.”

That had been an unfortunate accident from before Geralt’s time. Some pyrotechnic stunt had gone horribly wrong and left Eskel with the scars. If it hadn’t been for those and the different coloured hair, Geralt was sure they could have been mistaken for brothers, if not twins. Still, now Eskel only worked on sets where Lambert was the one in charge of anything fire related. Which was just as well because Geralt liked Lambert, enjoyed trading barbs with him whenever their paths crossed. As Geralt’s fame climbed, he got to ask for more and more things in contracts and, as he was fond of Eskel, he asked for him as a stunt double whenever he could and then asked for Lambert if the set called for it. It was nice to have so much power and be able to work with those he liked. Interestingly, Cahir was fast becoming another person who Geralt got on with quite well. That wasn’t to say Geralt wasn’t scared shitless of him at the start. Nobody should know so much about fighting with so many weapons without having a very colourful past - one that Cahir refused to talk about. Still, the guy was good at his job and Geralt could talk to him, so his advice was sought out too.

“Just tell him. Bring him something you know he will like. Show an interest in him and his life outside of set.”

For the first time ever, Geralt felt that Cahir was in a rush. He wasn’t quite as patient and measured as usual.

“Excited for the evening off?” he asked, trying to be friendly. And maybe he was practicing Cahir’s advice on him so he could be sure it worked when he talked to Jaskier.

A soft, shy smile crossed Cahir’s face, making him look younger and much less severe. “That obvious? It’s my anniversary today. I want to make it special.”

“Maybe bring them a gift that they’ll like?” Geralt offered with an amused smile. “I have it on good authority that it works.”

Laughing, Cahir clapped Geralt on the shoulder. “Best of luck. Now go get your man.”

Finding Jaskier wasn’t an issue, Geralt just had to follow the sound of laughter and singing. Unsurprisingly, Jaskier was sat with a gigantic sparkler while Lambert was packing away. Those two were a dangerous combination at the best of times and Geralt knew Jaskier had, on more than one occasion, dropped by the writers’ room to posit new ideas that centred around more pyrotechnics. The ideas had obviously come from Lambert but they were mostly good so got used surprisingly frequently.

“Aha! My companion for the evening has arrived!” Jaskier hopped off the box he had been swinging his legs off and approached Geralt. “What say you? Dinner. You and me. We enjoy this rare evening off with some good company and good food.”

“Sounds good,” Geralt agreed readily, it saved him having to ask Jaskier.

Turning back, Jaskier waved at Lambert. “Enjoy your anniversary this evening! Make sure you can walk properly tomorrow though!”

Another anniversary. While Geralt had been feeling quite confident about asking Jaskier out, the news that it was yet another person’s anniversary somewhat ruined the idea. Geralt knew Jaskier liked to be unique, adored being different to everyone else. To ask him out now and share an anniversary with three people they knew, it felt a little less special. Mood taking a bit of a dive, Geralt slouched next to Jaskier as they walked towards the cars.

“Why the glum face?” Typically, nothing went over Jaskier’s head. “Would you prefer a night of solitude?”

Shaking his head, Geralt resigned himself to the knowledge that Jaskier would wheedle until he got the truth out of him. So he saved them both a lot of time and agony. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing’s ever stupid, just needs to be valued correctly.”

“I wanted to ask you something. But make it special. It’s not special though, not today. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.”

That made not a lick of sense to Jaskier and he frowned, bumping his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Just ask.”

“But it won’t be special. Three other couples we know have an anniversary today.”

A soft laugh from Jaskier pulled him from his grumblings. “So many people have their anniversaries every day. It’s not like one single day can be declared as only one couple’s.”

For someone so smart, Jaskier sure wasn’t putting the pieces together to solve just what Geralt was trying to say.

“But would you really want an anniversary when Lambert, Eskel and Cahir each have theirs too?” It was actually a little odd, now that Geralt thought of it. Three good friends all sharing an anniversary.

There was a moment of silence before Jaskier was rounding on Geralt, hands on his shoulders to stop him mid-walk.

“Dear heart, please tell me I’m hearing this wrong. Firstly, if I was so lucky as to have an anniversary, I wouldn’t care who I shared it with. I would love to simply have one, especially if you’re offering to have one with me. Secondly, please tell me you know why those three all have their anniversary date today.”

Mind whirring, Geralt tried to process everything Jaskier had just said. He picked the easier bit to reply to first. “They were on a night out together and met their partners at the same time? Bit like how people date within the same friendship groups or even date siblings?”

Face falling, Jaskier cursed under his breath. “And I thought I wasn’t being obvious enough. Oh dear. Geralt, those three, it’s their anniversary together. As in they’re all dating each other. And Aiden is at home, waiting for them. He got the day off today too.”

Geralt’s jaw fell slack. He couldn’t quite believe it. “They-they’re together?!”

“And they’ve not been subtle at all about it!” Jaskier was laughing. “I love you but you are so dumb, I swear.”

That forced Geralt back into the moment and he smiled. “I love you too.”

He didn’t expect an enthusiastic kiss out in the open but he really didn’t mind it at all. With a huff of a laugh Geralt returned it, arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist.

“Come on then,” Jaskier finally said as he broke away. I believe we have our zero-th anniversary to have and make a solid start on new traditions. I think we should order takeaway as a treat for our anniversaries from now on.”

Laughing, Geralt linked their hands. He liked the idea of anniversary traditions. Jaskier most definitely had the best ideas.

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #get together #movie stars au #tldr: geralt tries to ask jaskier out

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miioouu · 4 years ago

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Can I request a Bakugou scenario where He gets turned invibile like ghost level via quirk. No one can see or hear him. And after a while of useless thrashing he decides to take advantage of the quirk following his crush around without them knowing. Do what you will with that concept

Oh nonny "do what you will with that concept"??? You really shouldn't give me that power honey! Thank you for requesting!! ❤️💜❤️

Warning: smut, dubcon, characters are seniors so they're 18....

To say he was pissed is such an understatement, Bakugou was livid. Not only no one can see him, but they also can't hear him. So really there was no use in trashing around and screaming, but he still did it, no one can stop him. But he also tried to move things around, but no one payed attention, the dorms are a usual mess. So what can he do to lose time? Anything to make those 48 hours pass like a blink of an eye? Just like any other ghost, he decided to follow people around, learn some more about his "opponents".

But he really didn't expect to discover so much. From the way Momo eats her kits kats so wrong, to the weird plushies Kirishima hides under his bed. Somehow everything disturbed him. Well everything but you.

Having enough of all the others' annoying habits, he decided to stalk you. He would be lying if he denied his attraction to you. Beautiful and smart, soft looking but stronger than most of your classmates, innocent aura surrounding you, but he's about to discover that it's not that true. Slipping into your room before you had the chance to close the door, he felt like a pervert for intruding such a personal space of yours. And honestly, he wasn't much far from it. Late at night, he'd lay in his bed thinking of you, hand slowly traveling down amd under his shorts, images of your moving body from the day's training replying in his arm. Your scream of pain always made blood rush down to his dick, wishing he was the reason behind them. But he never came as close to seeing the real thing as in right now. For most part it was ok staying in your room. He learned about your favorite songs, listening to you humming to some lyrics or on some specific songs you'd go full on concert, it amused him how you used your hair brush as a microphone, dropping your body on the bed, dramatizing the music. But then as the sun began to set, you decided to get rid of your day clothes and finally slip into the comfort of your pyjams. Summer was just beginning, but the heat in the dorms was unbearable. Letting your pants hit the floor, unintentionally displaying your lacy thong to Bakugou's eyes, making him hard immediately, but it's not like he could leave now right? You'd notice. Or that's what he kept telling himself, deep inside he wanted to stay here, he needed to see you undress, burning the memory in his brain. And if he thought that the view of your ass is nice, he wasn't ready for what's next. Taking off your shirt, you quickly unhooked your bra too, breast on full display for the angry blond, as you slipped on long satiny camisole. Light and flowy, perfect for tonight's weather, perfect for Bakugo to drool over.

With nothing but a sexy top and your underwear, Bakugou really couldn't help himself. Millions of dirty ideas running in his mind, but he was strong, he can control himself. Well that was before you layed yourself in bed, phone in your hand, and when he peaked over, he couldn't believe his eyes. You were scrolling through a pornographic website, looking for a video to waste the night, it was the weekend after all. Finally finding the perfect one, you grabbed your earphones and plugged them in. One hand pressing the play button as the other digged into your lowest bedside drawer pulling out something that made Katsuki's heart skip a beat. All cute, adorbale, and small vibrator staying beside you. Standing beside you, he didn't know what else to do, he watched alongside. Such dirty scenes making him hard, if he was visible, the tent in his pants would've been so prominent. Getting wetter by the second, your legs unconsciously spreading apart, and when he notice, his red eyes drifted quickly to your damp panties, dark spot indicating your arousal. But not only that, one of your hand came up to your boobs, pinching and twisting your nipples, the pleasure of it all making your back arch off the mattress, untill you couldn't take it anymore. Quickly putting your phone down beside you, only to pick the vibrator up and positioning it so it barely brushed against your clothed clit. Electric waves flowing all through your body, shivers and goosebumps evidence for it. Follow your moves, Bakugou let his hand travel down, wrapping around his shaft, thumb caressing his head, spreadind his precum around, teasing himself. Every moan that left your mouth made him want to thrust in his own hand, but he refrained from that. Watching you slowly pushing your underway aside, now the vibrator making direct contact with the bundle of nerves, your free hand quick to cover your mouth, body jumping off the bed in shock and pleasure, it was all to much. Both for you and Katsuki.

A few minutes passed, his hand jerking him off, the sight of your bidy squirming around your bed, your lewd moans and whimpers, water in the corner in your eyes; he will remember that view for the rest of his life. Despite both of your fingers and the vibrator working miracles on you, you needed more. You wanted to feel more, feel full, and with that in mind, you couldn't help but let your mind drift off to your classmate. Tall and lean, strong and hot-headed, rude and harsh, his words always made you rub your thighs together. And his vermillion intense eyes always seeming to meet yours making you day dream about the nastiest stuff. And before you knew, his name escaped from your mouth, needy and desperate. "Ba-Bakugou, more please, more!" Begs not falling on deaf ears, the man in question right beside you, eyes rolling to the back, head hung down in shame yet shock, leaning onto the wall next to you in fear of falling. He couldn't believe what he just heard, you moaned his name. His name falling from your reddening lips with such pleasure and lust, he couldn't but obey you. Walking around and standing now right between your legs, letting the vibrator do its job for a few minutes before turning it off. None the wiser you thought it just ran out of batteries, throwing it to the side with a disappointing groan and complain. You sat up, right on the edge of your bed, giving Bakugou the perfect position. He couldn't believe what he's about to do, bur he was just listening to your demands right? Well it didn't matter, because he quickly, with no second thought slid inside you. Feeling weird yet so so good, you couldn't help but let your body fall on the comfortable mattress. Loud moans escaping your lips thinking it was your fingers doing a good job. So drunk on pleasure and lust, you didn't question it too much. Letting your body roll and thrust "in the air". But in reality, every grind of your hips meeting Bakugou's so perfectly, adding to the intensity of it all. Picking up the pace, he was really surprised that you didn't suspect a thing, though glad of your naivety. Each in and out of his cock inside you hitting your g-spot, viens dragging against your velvety walls. Squirming and tossing around, bitting down your lips so hard it made them bleed. Crying from both pleasure and awkwardness, why were you feeling so good, it's not normal! But you couldn't stop it, the knot that was forming inside your lower belly finally breaking, milking him for his seed and chanting his name like a mantra, like it's the only thing you knew how to say. Not too far behind, Bakugou came, shooting white ropes to paint your inner walls....

Waiting for you to settle down and making sure you're sound asleep, he picked up your soiled panties, holding onto them for dear life as he made his way out of your room and straight to his. Being invisible wasn't that bad, but how will he look at you in the eyes when everything comes back to normal, knowing yoi also had unholy thoughts about him too.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader smut #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha smut #request #tw dubcon #dubcon #tw dubious consent

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beelsnack · 4 years ago

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Hiya! I saw ur post about u being stressed at work so please take ur time with this request! There's no rush! Ur wellbeing is more important 💖 But when you get the time how about some headcanons for an MC who is very cute and naive but got teased for being so at RAD so they try to dress "cool" and pretend to be all badass but their tough persona just makes the demon brothers uwu even more cuz they think it's adorable how hard they're trying

Ah, thank you for being patient, Nonnie! I hope this was worth the wait!

I realized a bit too late that I may have misinterpreted your request a little, but I hope it turned out alright anyway. ^^

-----

Lucifer: “Careful, my dear, your face may get stuck like that.”

When the human turned around to greet him, they had their normal cheerful grin on their face. However, Lucifer watched as their expression turned surprised, then frustrated before they managed to school it back into the hilariously deep frown they had been forcing all day.

“Would you mind telling me why you’re making that ridiculous face?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They fell into step beside him. Even though they had pretty much figured out the layout of RAD, Lucifer insisted on walking with them to the Student Council Chambers. At first, it was just to make sure they didn’t accidentally end up in the torture chambers in the lower levels, but now he genuinely enjoyed the few moments they had alone together. Hearing them chatter on about their day lifted his mood exponentially.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Lucifer inclined his head. “Force that scowl for much longer and you might pull a facial muscle.”

They wavered for a second before sighing. “Did it really look that bad?”

“It was quite an unnatural look for you.” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Would you mind telling me just what you were trying to do?”

“...Some demons in my class told me I smiled too much.” they admitted. “So I was trying to...not?”

Lucifer paused, regarding them with a raised eyebrow. “What in the Three Realms does ‘smiling too much’ mean?”

“I’m...not sure honestly,” they shrugged.

“My dear,” he stopped in front of them, placing his hands on their shoulders. “I don’t particularly care what those other demons think or want, but I will not have you depriving me of your beautiful smile.”

Mammon: That was his jacket.

It was way too big on them, making them look even smaller than they already did. It was also very clearly not part of the RAD uniform - not that any of the brothers wore their uniforms correctly, but the human was usually pretty up to code with theirs.

He caught up to them in a few steps and grabbed onto the collar of their - his - jacket. “Hey, human! Just what do you think you’re doing?”

They squeaked in surprise, and for a moment Mammon was caught off guard by how unbearably adorable it was. When they turned around, they were grinning sheepishly at him.

“H-hi Mammon.”

Oof. Honestly, he did not anticipate how seeing them wearing his clothes was going to affect him. The sleeves came down to their knuckles, and they had curled their fingers around the cuffs almost instinctively, It was too cute, he felt like his heart was trying to smash through his ribcage.

“You - you got a whole lotta nerve, stealing from the Great Mammon.” he released their collar, they both continued walking, although he had completely forgotten that his class was in the complete opposite direction.

“You left it in my room, though.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re wearin’ it!”

“I’m sorry.” they sighed, beginning to shrug the jacket off of their shoulders. “Some demons were picking on me, so I thought they would leave me alone if I dressed a bit tougher. It didn’t work anyway, so I’ll give it back now.”

They were just about to yank their arms out of the sleeves when Mammon shook his head.

“Keep it, if it makes you feel better.” he definitely wasn’t blushing, nope, not even a little bit. “I’ve got others, so just accept the Great Mammon’s generosity.”

Leviathan: “Please tell me you didn’t pay a stupid amount of cash for those.”

The human frowned up at Levi, putting a hand over their new headphones almost protectively. “I paid a perfectly reasonable amount!”

“I wouldn’t pay anything for those,” he frowned. “The manufacturers would have to pay me, actually.”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” they huffed. “I just bought them so people would stop talking about me when they think I’m listening.”

Levi tilted his head. “Huh?”

The human sighed, playing idly with the cord of the headphones. “Some demons in my Curses class like to freak me out by saying how yummy I look when they catch my eye. I kind of hoped that they would stop if they weren’t getting a rise out of me.”

A white-hot surge of protectiveness crashed over him as the human curled in on themself. He might have been a giant otaku, but he would be damned if he let anything happen to his best friend. Well, more damned than he already was, anyway.

“You should have just said something,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have an old pair you can have. They still work fine, but they released a limited-edition Ruri-chan version and obviously I have to rep my waifu so I’ve been using those - “

Satan: “Can I ask you something?”

The two of them were on their way to the RAD’s library. Satan honestly didn’t need to study, but the human definitely did, and using an academic excuse meant that Lucifer was more likely to leave the two of them alone.

“Of course,” Satan held the door open for them. Without even bothering to look, he began walking over to the table that had basically become their territory. Even if there were other demons there, they would probably scamper off.

“How do you get people to be afraid of you?”

Satan paused, raising an eyebrow in an expression that definitely did not make him look strikingly like Lucifer. “Me specifically?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, being the Avatar of Wrath gives me a leg up.”

The human scowled. “Damn it.”

“Why would you want people to be afraid of you?” Satan asked as they sat down. Up until this point, the human’s modus operandi was being so sweet that nobody ever wanted to hurt them, so the threatening angle was a complete 180.

“Some demons in class were making comments about me being dessert.” they mumbled, taking out their textbooks before slinging their bag over the back of the chair. “I honestly couldn’t tell if they were talking about my personality or my flesh, so…”

“Okay, first of all,” Satan leaned forward on his elbows. “We kill them.”

“Satan, no.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, darling, what have you done to yourself?”

They really needed to get a “Do Not Disturb” sign or something. Not that it would stop anything, but still.

Asmo at least had the decency to shut the door behind him, but that was as far as it went. He was openly staring at them, doing his best impression of the Scream painting.

“The makeup tutorial made this look so much easier.” they sighed, leaning back in their chair.

“They always do,” Asmo came over behind them, placing his hands on their shoulders as he leaned down to look at their laptop screen. “Never trust the ones on Sinterest.”

Their final product looked nothing like the model on the screen. The wings of their eyeliner were crooked, and one eye was longer than the other. The contouring made them look like a clown, and somehow they had gotten black eyeshadow on their nose.

“That’s quite the change of pace for you, darling.” Asmo commented, “It’s a look, but why the sudden switch?”

The human remained silent, their bottom lip quivering in a way that made Asmo want to gathering them up in a blanket. Eventually, they sighed again.

“All the succubi look so cool, and I always look...” they paused. “Human.”

“Darling, I don’t know how to break this to you - “

“I know, I know.” they grumbled. “I just wanted to look badass for once!”

The puppy-dog pout they had going on wasn’t doing anything for that particular look, but Asmo decided to keep that comment to himself. Instead, he spun them around, hands still on their shoulders. “Now, now, don’t make that face. Let’s see if we can’t fix this up a little, hm?”

Beelzebub: “What are you doing?”

He hadn’t meant to scare them, but they jumped like he had jumped from the ceiling. The yelp they let out made him feel guilty. Maybe Mammon was right when he said that Beel was disturbingly sneaky for someone his size.

Usually the gym was empty when he came for his morning workout, so seeing the human seated on the workout bench was a definite surprise. Not a bad one though.

“Beel!” the set the weight down. “Um…g-good morning…?”

“Morning,” he replied, making his way over to where they were situated. “You’re not usually one to workout, much less this early in the morning.”

“I, uh…” they stammered. “I wanted to get a little stronger, is all.”

“Not that I’m going to stop you,” he set his gym bag down next to the weight rack. “But why?”

They grumbled under their breath, but eventually sighed. “Some demons at RAD told me I looked chewy.”

“I mean, you kind of do.”

“Hey!”

“All humans look chewy, though.” he shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing. But you want to build up some muscle, right?”

They pouted, and Beel really wanted to reach out and pat them on the head. Instead, he sat next to them on the bench and handed them the weight they had been using.

“Okay, so you want to hold it like this…”

Belphegor: “You had a funny dream last night.”

They had learned from experience that telling Belphie to stop invading their privacy by watching their dreams did exactly fuck all, so they just huffed in annoyance as he flopped against their shoulder. “It wasn’t funny.”

“Amusing, then.”

“For you, maybe.”

They felt him smirk against their shoulder. “You really think a leather jacket and sunglasses will make demons think you’re tough?”

“More than skipping around with flowers in my hair would.”

“I think you would look cute with flowers in your hair. Let’s take some black roses from Diavolo’s garden.”

“Aren’t those poisonous?”

Belphie shifted, nuzzling into their neck as the professor walked in. “It’ll help with the tough image.”

“For about 4 hours until I start foaming at the mouth.” they folded their arms, jostling Belphie from their shoulder.

The demon laughed, pillowing his head in his arms as he leaned forward onto the desk. “I like how you are now. If someone starts giving you trouble, I’ll kill them for you.”

“No cannibalism, please.”

“That’s more Beel’s territory.”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

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meetmeatthecoda · 3 years ago

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Okay so, I wanted to offer my two cents on that ask about Liz’s reaction in Luther Braxton: Conclusion. This is NOT meant as an attack on anyone—I find it 100% valid that the OG nonny (and anyone who related to them, including you dear Coda 💖💖💖) feels the way they do; they can’t control how they reacted to Liz any more than I can control how I reacted to that ask. Plus like, this is all fiction so no harm done? I purely wish to share my perspective, not ~present a counterargument~ or anything like that. :) Apologies in advance for how long this got. 😅😅😅

I get why you would react negatively to Liz’s screaming at Red, but I feel like?? That incident of all the times she’s treated him unjustly was (one of?) the most reasonable. Now, how she continues to act afterwards (regarding the Fulcrum but also, like, for the rest of the show welp) is 100% a continued bad decision in so many ways on her part and reflects terribly on her character, but her reaction in the immediate aftermath?? IDK, I feel the need to kind of defend her, probably because I absoluuuutely saw myself in her when she did that. I’ve (I shamefully admit) yelled, shoved, and even kicked at loved ones when they just wanted to comfort me but their attempts made me feel cornered and small. I’ve made logically unbased and ethically/emotionally unfair accusations against people who’ve done nothing but try to help me when I just needed something to get them away (literally or otherwise). When I just needed to attack something—take out my frustrations and confusion and fear and anger on someone. (And if Liz was like that, she might have latched onto Red as her target because he was the closest thing—physically, emotionally, and even in relation to the cause of that confusion and anger itself.) I have inflicted real harm on people while in an unsettling or unfamiliar mental state—harm that I couldn’t take back even when I could look back with a clear(er) mind and realize I never should have said/done any of that.

(Also, side note: when I first watched that ep and I saw Liz screaming at Red not to touch her?? I’d actually thought they were depicting her as being touch-averse due to the trauma and/or overstimulation, and I was?!! Like, call me badly coping but I appreciate seeing characters not being comfortable or straight-up being aggressive about being touched, even for just a moment, because that is me 24/7. Then of course a few more seconds and it turns out it’s not actually that?? Liz is just repulsed by Red’s Bad Guyness again apparently?? Whenever I rewatch the ep I still choose to see it as overstimulation though because, well… my heart is clearly very talented at choosing comfort characters for me. 🥲🥲🥲)

So speaking from personal experience, coming out of a trauma (or revisiting an unresolved one) is so stressful that it’s only natural to react explosively—even to the extent of unfairness and unreasonableness—in an attempt to protect or heal yourself, whether that attempt be justified or not. And honestly, I could even make the argument that for Liz, her attempt was to some extent justified. Of course Red would never hurt her, but sometimes a person needs breathing space. Like, literally needs. Maybe for the sake of her mental stability/health, Liz should have had her first moments coming up from her trance to herself. Does that make sense?? IDK if I made any sense there; I just know that while I never could have gotten to the place I’m at now without the EVENTUAL professional and personal support I’ve been blessed with, I also can’t fathom how much more mental anguish I would have experienced if I’d had people who knew me (or like, the “closest person” in Liz’s case) see me in the immediate aftermath of my trauma. Just… The state I was in? Yikes, am I glad only I saw myself pull myself together; I’d have had so much more to worry about with others seeing me like that. That might just be me and totally inapplicable to Liz of course, so I digress!

I’m not saying Liz isn’t responsible for her words/actions simply because they happened while she was in utter emotional upheaval and under mental and physical duress—Red definitely did NOT deserve that treatment from her. He did NOTHING WRONG. But with that kind of complex angst comes the inevitably mixed but nonetheless potent reactions of fans, I completely understand that. Everyone has different experiences and thus different viewpoints, and that’s fine and totally healthy in my book. Still, something about that discussion struck a chord with me—you can (and should) hold someone accountable for the harm they do while mentally unstable, but it’s possible and also healthy to do that without, yourself, harboring anger or resentment against them, you know? I had to teach myself (and those around me) that, so I guess I just wanted to put it out there. Again, I don’t mean to start anything and I’m so, so sorry if I inadvertently have. I hope it’s okay that I came here to explain my thoughts (and so wordily too, ack I’m sorry), and if not, I won’t anymore. Thank you for hearing me out this time though, I really appreciate it. :)

Dear anon!! 🤗🥰❤️ Firstly, I want to thank you for your kindness & respect for other's opinions!! This ask was worded in the sweetest, most considerate way & I appreciate it very much!! There's absolutely no need to apologize for having your own opinion & perspective, especially when you share & explain it so nicely, so never fear!! 😊❤️ Moving on to the meat of your ask - which is in regards to this previous one - you make such a good point!! When you look at it that way, the Luther Braxton Post-Memory-Unearthing Screaming Explosion is perhaps Liz's most justifiable negative reaction in the series LOL I guess looking back from where we are now - knowing all about & being completely fed up with all of Liz's awful writing & characterization in the subsequent seasons - it's easy to dismiss her reaction in Luther Braxton as something unreasonable & irritating & unfair to Red (which, to some extent - as you graciously allow - it is). But - as you generously point out - while that's a valid way of looking at it, it's also definitely worth examining from another point of view!! And I think your point of view (in everything ofc, but particularly in this) is so valuable!! I can relate at least on some level... I have definitely snapped at people, even those trying to help me, verbally & otherwise, when I lost my temper & just needed some space!! In fact, I think that's a pretty universal stress reaction & it's not necessarily something to be super ashamed of (but definitely something to be aware of & work on - a good reminder for us all!!) & it's definitely not a stretch to imagine Liz was going through something similar after being effectively water-boarded & having her memories so unceremoniously rifled through!! And, after all, Liz has one thing we generally don't... a perfect, convenient, willing catalyst for all the negative things in her life: Red (however undeserving of that title he may be.)

(And re: sidenote of touch-averse!Liz - Omg, I definitely thought about that being their angle at first too!! While I don't usually default to reacting that way myself [kind of the opposite for me usually LOL] I know that plenty of people do & it's 1000% valid as a coping mechanism & honestly??? A touch-averse Liz would be one of the more realistic reactions she's ever had 😂😭 especially considering the circumstances!! And hey, no shame about gravitating towards that interpretation bc it's 1) less painful for you & 2) you like comfort characters bc you 👏 do 👏 you 👏 but also?? I can't say anything bc the reason that I like that interpretation??? I love the angst of an overwhelmed & touch-averse!Liz unintentionally shattering Red's heart by completely rejecting his well-meaning physical comfort anddddd I'm not sure what that says about me tbh 😂😂😂)

Long story short, anon, you made perfect sense here, not to worry!! You were so respectful & cognizant of others' feelings, thank you so much for that, it doesn't go unnoticed!! You bring such a good point to the discussion with your perspective & outlook & I'm so thankful you chose to contribute!! I loved reading your thoughts & don't worry at all about the length, I appreciate your thoroughness!! (Plus, we all know I'm hardly one to talk, I never use one word when twenty will do 😂) Please don't hesitate to come back to my inbox any time to discuss whatever you like, I always love a little bit of friendly TBL conversation, especially since the show as we know it is so abruptly & unexpectedly over 😭 Yes, still grappling with that, in case you were wondering 🥲 Anyway, thank you again for your lovely ask, anon, I appreciate you greatly, & much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

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77marvelimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Whole

Charles Xavier X Mutant!Reader

Prompt(s) from anonymous: hello! Would you maybe want to do a charles xavier x reader (just right after cuba!) where charles is captured by an organization experimenting on mutants (doesnt have to be graphic at all just mentioned!!). y/n (protective) spends weeks trying to track them down, and when she finally finds them she goes in alone (powerful mutation is powerful) and calls out to him in her mind and talks to him and he's in such a bad state, & she gets to him and saves him?? Xxxxx

Note(s): Personally, I would do so much for this man, and of course so would the reader! I feel like Charles would have such a strong and loving bond with his s/o, so of course I had to put that here as well. I hope I did your prompt justice Nonny, thank you for sending it in! Please do enjoy <3

P.s. If the entire quote is italicized, then it was spoken mentally! c:

Warning(s): A bit of language, a bit of fluff, just a general warning for evil bad guys. They’re only mentioned, but still, they exist!

Word count: 769

“... Charles?”

There was no response. (y/n) was used to there being no response. The silence spoke both promises and deceits, and from her spot just outside the base, she knew she had to get farther in to find him.

It would have been easier if Erik were here. Or Raven. Or even fucking Azazel. Angel, for crying out loud. But (y/n) was on her own, and while of course Alex was… somewhere around the base, he was not the one currently razing it to the ground.

Help would have been appreciated. But (y/n) was nothing if not determined and strong, and even a base full of evil kidnapping, torturing, anti-mutant assholes would never be strong enough to stop her. No, they would feel her ire, her anger, and most of all, her heartache. They would die knowing exactly why their deaths were imminent, with no mercy, and (y/n) refused to look back or listen to their pleas.

A door had been blown clean of its hinges, hitting a lone scientist clean over the head as it twisted and slammed into the opposing wall. (y/n) walked through, uniform stained and torn. It was the moment when she crossed under the doorway that it hit her, and she stopped clear in her tracks.

“.... (y/n)...?”

“Charles,” (y/n) breathed, and she wasted no time in running through the room, over the dead body, and towards the back corridors of the lab. Worry ticked deep in her sternum. She didn’t have to be a genius to know that her beloved was anything but alright.

She found cages with Plexiglas sides and steel locks. They were all full, gaunt faces and bodies staring up in either disbelief or fear. They were not who she was looking for, but as she passed, every cage opened as though it was merely the breeze that had done it. (y/n) did not look back as she went deeper.

The lab was big. (y/n) didn’t count the closed-door rooms she’d passed, nor the number of cages. She was smart enough to know that one cage and one undisclosed room was one cage and room too much. There were too many rooms, actually, and too many cages. They were organized in blocks, it looked like. A couple dozen cages, then a room. A couple dozen cages, then another room. It seemed to go on forever.

But nothing human can ever go on forever. She turned a corner and met a dead end.

There was a door, and a singular cage.

The call she’d been following sang high and strong in her head. It thumped as hard as her heartbeat and sore as fast as her adrenaline. There was an explosion from somewhere else in the facility, and to (y/n), it felt like victory.

The second she’d seen the cage she was on top of it. The door did not open so much as fly off, but it mattered not, because the person inside was free.

He was lying on the ground, and thin. He looked as though he’d been thrown there long ago and hadn’t moved since, if his tangled legs were anything to go by. Stick thin arms wobbled on elbows, and a shaved head with an inch of hair looked up at her. His face was dirty and bruised, but beautiful brown eyes that (y/n) had memorized the flecks of long ago widened.

“(y/n)... oh, (y/n)...”

“Charles- Jesus, I’m here, I’m right here-”

(y/n) pulled him into her arms and it was like coming home. Charles collapsed against her chest, not out of exhaustion, but relief. She could feel it in her mind, the way his consciousness settled next to hers out of both habit and instinct. Being separated had felt like hell, but being together felt better than heaven. She- no, they- felt whole again. The phantom limbs were gone and replaced with actual limbs; a voice that would whisper in her ear, and a comfort lodged deep in her brain that knew she would never be alone, ever.

She pressed the most passionate kiss against his temple. Even with his head tucked into her shoulder, (y/n) could feel Charles’ smile against her neck. His chapped and scabbed lips pressed against her jaw. (y/n) could have cried because it was him and that was enough.

There was another explosion within the facility, this time closer. Much closer. (y/n) stood up, her love wrapped tight within her arms. “Charles?” She asked.

“Yes, darling?”

“Let’s go home.”

“Oh, dear, I thought you’d never ask.”

Tag list:

@princess76179 @kalechipps @agent-valkyrie-romanoff @bad-black-angel @pieceofsupersoldiertrash @chari-a

#Charles Xavier #Charles Xavier X Reader #Charles Xavier Imagine #Professor X #Professor X X Reader #Professor X Imagine #X-Men #X-Men X Reader #X-Men Imagine #Marvel #Marvel X Reader #Marvel Imagine

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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hey Steph! I wanted to know if you knew of any fics that dealt with the topic of consent, and very explicit consent, and not even necessarily for sex, but just, explicit consent and conversations of boundaries in a relationship. "hay can I kiss you? it's ok if I hold your hand? can I hold your hand when we're outside?" people talking boundaries, that type of thing... you know anything like that?

Hey Nonny!!

You know, I ABSOLUTELY KNOW that I do, but I didn’t have the foresight to pre-tag all of them as I read them, so I can’t give you ALL of the ones I have in my bookmarks, but I can definitely give you the fics I do have tagged with “Consent” or “Negotiation”, so I hope that’s okay!!

If any of my Lovelies have any that they remember or have their own fics, PLEASE add them!!

CONSENT AND RELATIONSHIP NEGOTIATION

Personal Space by probablyquantum (T, 1,814 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Cuddles, Nightmares, Awkwardness) – John and Sherlock renegotiate the rules governing personal space. Pre-Slash.

Husband by jinglebell (E, 2,003 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., PWP, Anal, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff, Toplock) – Sherlock orgasms when John refers to him as ‘husband’.

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w., 1 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn’t ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn’t bother him to propose to John even though they’re not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

Perfect Solo by Itsallfine (E, 2,384 w., 1 Ch., || PWP, Solo Kink, Fantasy, Pining, Dirty Talk, Sex Toys) – Sherlock couldn’t decide how he wanted to have John that night. (The one where Sherlock uses his box of sex toys to take himself apart in every way John might have him.)

Everything by patternofdefiance (E, 4,409 w., 1 Ch. || Snuggles and Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Frottage, Vulnerable Sherlock) – John wakes up with an armful of Sherlock. This – situation – is unusual, yes, and definitely unfamiliar, but in no way does it feel wrong. Rather, it feels the exact opposite. Part 13 of I Blame Tumblr

Uninhibited by 221b_hound (M, 4,293 w., 1 Ch. || Bathing/Washing, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Big Brother Mycroft, Relationship Negotiation, Massage, Sherlock Has a Low Libido, Pet Names) – Sherlock and John have been apart for the first time since Sherlock returned from the dead. Neither of them has had a good day. John’s gets worse when Mycroft comes to Baker Street in Sherlock’s absence to warn John Watson against disappointing his brother by expecting things to change. Mycroft has misjudged things rather badly. But finally he sods off and leaves John and Sherlock to reconnect, to give and receive comfort, and show each other that they are, indeed, perfectly matched. Part 15 of Unkissed

Beg for Mercy (Twice) by Solitary_Endeavor (E, 7,060 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Bottomlock, Bearded John, Edging, Rough Sex, Idiots in Love, Canon Compliant) – Sherlock hasn’t left the flat in four days, the itch of impatience beneath his skin too great to allow him to suffer interaction with any human being who isn’t John. This is probably a mercy that goes both ways, as he’s driving even himself mad. Sherlock supposes there is a lesson to be learned here about having himself to blame, but of course he blames Mycroft.

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong… Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures, Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say ‘oh well, at least we tried’. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” (This one is… REALLY REALLY kinky, heavy dub-con warning)

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Evening Ride by LapisLazuli (E, 8,632 w., 1 Ch. || Public Sex, Alternate First Meeting, Humiliation Kink, Groping, Frottage, Consent Issues, Come Play) – John has a series of unexpected meetings with a stranger on the Tube.

C. sapiens by patternofdefiance (E, 8,813 w., 1 Ch. || Tentacles Porn, Magical Realism, Bottomlock, Anal / Tentacle Sex, Pheremones) – “A few weeks ago I would have thought you were impossible,” Sherlock begins, walking into the kitchen in his blue robe, and John – not quite catching on – wants to scoff and argue, No, actually, you are impossible, but then Sherlock continues: “But now I’d say you are improbable.” John thinks this might be flattering, if he could wrap his head around it, but he can’t – Sherlock is standing near, steaming his sun-baked-clean-sand smell, like the beach after rain, an alive smell, an other smell. It’s intoxicating, and John has been studiously avoiding it, but he can’t shift away now it’s so near. Now Sherlock’s so near. And then Sherlock ruins the probable-loveliness of his words and the definite-beauty of his presence by saying: “And by ‘improbable’ I mean ‘not yet scientifically acknowledged.’” Part 1 of Gifts from the Sea

John Watson’s Moon by patternofdefiance (E, 11,314 w., 1 Ch. || Werewolf John, First Time, BAMF John, First Time, Anal, Fleeting Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock finds out John is a werewolf and wants to see the transformation. It, uh, gets really kinky.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world’s only consulting detective will be on his own once again…or will he?

Lacuna by coloredink (E, 15,607 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Consent Issues, Drama, Amnesia) – God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It’s a lot less cracky than you’re probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent) – They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John “Five Oceans” Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – “For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate’s secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn’t he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock’s past as events conspire to threaten their future.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #consent #relationship negotiation #Anonymous

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bbysamu · 3 years ago

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INTJ-A

I'm what most consider neutral, my personality is very brash and extremely blunt to where I can say the cruelest things with a straight face. I give almost nobody special treatment and it's almost impossible to break past my blunt exterior from what I've been told apparently. Please Do not mistake me for a bad person as I don't do wrong unless my hand is forced, much like I don't do fights unless provoked first and most of the time it's because someone put there hands on me. I have no patience for those who provoke me and will easily lay them in the ground.

I'm 6'0 so I usually outdo someone in terms of strength.

I do alot of boxing and fighting type sports for the pure fact to just escape family. I struggle with PTSD over loud noise so I mainly surround myself in music and I prefer to be alone but don't mind the company of an S/O or close friend.

Extremely protective but also very nonchalant and I don't really tend to be fazed by others, my family has described me as some ice cold person when they made me like this so it's certainly safe to say I'm not much of a people person unless I see them as someone worth my time.

I'm an empath/dark empath, I feel emotions from others and tend to understand there perspectives. I'm not manipulative to a fault unless I have to be for the other person to understand something.

But for the most part I'm extremely nuetral.

I mainly sit on the porch outside and tend to sm/k/ w//d occasionally (medical) and I don't sleep often. Once again, blame the PTSD, I'm affectionate when I want to be but it's mainly silent hugs or kisses. When I love, I love hard and give my all until I'm nothing but a melted candle.

I'm skilled in terms of balance and flexibility and can DJ a bit. Mostly for myself and experimentation.

dear nonnie you’ve been personality matched with...

Relationship Headcanons Below:

✗ You and Kita have been friends for a while, but he’d always have a crush on you. Can you just imagine the relief and joy on his face the day he asked you out? Since the beginning of your friendship, Kita has always been able to read you well. However, after you guys started dating and you let him in even more into your life, Kita reads you even better now. Just a single glance and he’s almost always able to understand how you’re feeling.

✗ That being said, Kita is extremely protective of you. We all know he’s a very caring and thoughtful person by nature. We’ve seen how he is when taking care of his teammates, but with you, just imagine that but with a hundred times more love and care. He knows you’re someone who's gone through a lot in life and it hurts his heart knowing he couldn’t be there to protect you. But if you’re willing to, he wants to be there holding your hand for the rest of your lives.

✗ I see you guys having a very chill type of relationship. It’s not filled with a lot of loud, spontaneous adventures or grand gestures, but its very cozy and warm. It’s the his hand always holding yours when going through a big crowd, so you guys don’t get lost. It’s the sitting together on the sofa, you leaning against his chest, the both of you getting lost in your own world with the books in your hands.

✗ However, Kita is romantic, a bit of an old-fashioned one as well. So random flowers are definitely not something out of the ordinary. I also feel like Kita is the type to cook a lot. Homecooked dinner dates is also quite a common occurrence.

✗ Kita is very impressed by your knowledge and agility when you're doing fighting type sports. In fact, you actually sparked his interest in boxing. His teammates were surprised to learn their former captain is now kind of a boxer? But he’s surprisingly good and you two help each other become even better in the sport.

✗ You and Kita are the meant to be type of couple. I don’t know how to describe it, but the way you two interact just make sense. Its the type of relationship where you both know, no matter how lonely or mean or cold the world can be sometimes, in each other’s arms will always be unconditional love and acceptance.

hi love, thanks so much for participating in the matchup! I hope you enjoyed reading this. Have a beautiful day my dear💕

#fushiguroll's great matchup

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alittlefrenchtree · 5 years ago

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I feel so conflicted about Timmy. I loved the sweet, humble guy he was, but now he acts like the biggest diva, going to fashion shows, only hanging out with famous people. I miss the old Timmy, what I see now I don't like. And I don't like that he left earlier and didn't care about Armie, but can stop rehearsing to show his face at fashion weeks. I feel at the beginning it was only about his talent, now it's more about his fashion choices. I don't want to hate, I just feel different about him.

Me @ everyone who will read this answer : Please be kind?

Seriously, just be kind. That’s not a question, just be kind.

More important, unless you’re Nonny and looking for an answer of mine you really don’t have to read all of that. It’s mostly an observation on how Timmy’s career and image is handled right now and nothing groundbreaking at all. There a little bit about his relationship with Armie towards the end. Honestly even you, Nonny, you weren’t probably asking for an answer this long. I just love to hear myself thought, apparently. Sorry if it’s boring as hell for you 😅

I choose to believe that this ask isn’t coming from a wickedness place and doesn’t want to be mean. That’s the main reason why I’m answering this ask, instead of deleting it.

The second reason is because I’ve been contemplating the same kind of questions and the same kind of issues about Timmy for a while now. And since I’m now mostly at peace with all of it, and with the way I see him, I thought it could be interesting to share around that.

By sharing my view on how things are at this moment, I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, dear Nonny (or anyone who feels the same way). Like I said, I understand where they come from. I only hope that, by reading a different point of view, you’ll managed to feel a little bit less conflicted and maybe go back to enjoy some Timmy content like you used to. I hope I won’t sound to harsh or anything. This isn’t my intention at all.

I think the most important thing to remember is that 99% of what we see of Timmy is work. The work of an actor is not only acting. Especially when you have the ambition to become and to stay the kind of actor Timmy wants to be. Every time you see him at a public event, he’s working. Networking is working. Existing in the media eyes is working. Attending as fashion shows is working. That doesn’t mean that, in the case of fashion show for example, Haider isn’t also his friend. Of course they’re friends and of course he’s also showing support for his friend’s work. But it’s also a work relationship. That’s why it needs to be public. Haider is the one dressing him for the premieres of his movies. Haider is one of those who helped build his fashion reputation. Being seen together and publicly supporting each other work, it’s good for both of them, professionally speaking. What I mean is, when you see Tim at a fashion show or at a Hollywood party, it’s not free time for him. It’s a scheduled event on his work schedule. So when you said that he stops rehearsing to go to fashion show, that’s not entirely true. Firstly because it’s on week-end. Secondly, it would be like saying that he stops acting to do promo. Both things are work. Attending to Haider’s fashion show is also work.

Beside the London-Paris journey is hardly an effort. It would take me almost the same amont of time to go to Paris using public transports and I’m living like really close to Paris. And beside bis Timmy has seen SWM within the window of two days that was allowed by his work schedule so it’s not like he has never managed to make things work for Armie either.

For me, the problem is that Timmy has three jobs at the moment. He’s ‘one of the best actor of his generation’, the ‘most influential man in fashion’ and ‘a heartthrob for teenagers and young adults’. I’m phrasing things this way on purpose, because it shows how much weighs on him at the moment. All of this means a lot of expectations on him, a lot of judgements but also a lot of money depending on him. Even if all of his current statuts has been happening in a more or less natural way (he’s one of the best actor of his generation because he’s good at acting, his interest for fashion seems genuine and… well… He’s damn cute so of course he’s a teenage dream), my main concern is the fact that, right now, his public image is handled to encourage these three status at the same time. As long as his acting career is doing fine, it’s not a problem. If his acting career starts to be on the skids, or if one of his parts on a movie is suddenly having very bad reviews, the whole world will start to look at him and at his fashion/heartthrob statuts with different eyes.

But that moment hasn’t happened yet so I think it’s unfair to call him out on that now. He has shown nothing but hard work on the acting part of his career, and he has great things aligned for the next year. He’s a lead on the Dune remake by Denis Villeneuve, he’s starring on a Wes Anderson movie, he has that Bob Dylan thing who he seems really committed to and he’s about to do a run of a promising play. I think his choice on going back to theater, where everything is about acting, is really relevant of how focused is still he’s on acting.

I think it’s also interesting to notice the timing. For the past two years, Timmy has always been disappearing around that time of the year. So much that the Timmy drought has become a thing in the fandom. In the past, Timmy has expressed his need of disappearing and ‘going back in the mud’, both literally and figuratively, after being exposed to public eyes at this extend and for a long period of time. Truth is, I believe that Timmy is not allowed to disappear anymore. I don’t think you’re allowed to disappear for a while when Legendary Pictures is betting a lot amount of money on your pretty face. Because to disappear means media and social media will talk less about you and, in this industry, if people stop talking about you it basically means you’re dead.

So he can’t disappear. But somehow he found a way to focus on acting through theater, even if he has to do it in front of the public eyes. To be honest, I think it’s the least bad solution. I think the need to disappear for him (or anyone for that matter) for a decent period of time is really crucial for mental health and he hasn’t had this opportunity for a while, and I’m afraid he won’t have it either for the near future. Don’t get me wrong, I love that he’s doing theater again. I love having the opportunity to see him live perform I just wish he has a little bit more time to stay off the radar before going back for a whole year of craziness.

I understand that it can be frustrating to feel like most of the talks about him are about something else than his roles or his movies or his acting skills. Like I said, it’s part because of his/his team’s fault because they’ve been feeding the talk so it can keep going and going. It’s also part because the world works this way and is superficial as hell. Movie talks last a few months with the pre-promo/the premieres/the actually promo. A little bit more if you’re lucky enough to get nominations and awards. Then it becomes old news. Timmy’s persona exists every day. He’s doing and wearing new things every day and people are always more excited by what’s new. And the media will keep on using anything to have him as click-bait. It’s a win-win situation for both sides.

Except you never know when people are going to switch. One day they keep on waiting more and more of someone and the next day, they already grew tired of thi person. It’s been too much. They over did it. I sometimes use a tag that say something like « when can we say that too much is too much? » to react to what people and media sometimes do/write/say about Timmy to express this kind of feeling. Of course Tim and his team can’t control everything that is being said about him but I believe that the decisions they made in the past year? year and an half? have lead to this kind of craziness. This makes me think of that french paper, which was basically saying ‘why don’t we stop to consider Timmy as a kitten and make a fuss of everything he did and why don’t we start focusing on how he acts, because that is the real interesting thing to talk about.

Despite everything I can’t hold all of this too-much-ness against him when he’s still working so hard on his roles. I can’t blame him when I think of him giving so much on himself in that before-the-battle speech in The King that I want to go fight with and for him. I can’t blame him when I see him giving so much of himself for Laurie that he’s making me laugh and melt in the middle of a cinema room full of people when I’m usually pretty stoic in public. I just can’t blame him when I hear him talk about Dune and being so excited that he literally can’t stop himself for bouncing on his chair. I just can’t.

What I can do is not not pay attention to everything. I know it’s not an easy thing to do on tumblr and on social media when he’s everywhere and people are retweeting and reblogging the same things over and over again but if I’m not interested, I try to not pay attention. Back during CMBYN and BB era, I think I was looking at and reading everything. I’ve stopped shortly after. I didn’t read the article you’re referring to, for example. Because what’s Timmy is wearing interests me but not the shallow and irrelevant articles people will write about it. Most of them will say the same thing, that it’s Timothée Chalamet world now and us peasants are just humbly living on it. It’s going to be said over and over again until something newer, younger comes along. It’s ok. Being a teenage heartthrob will pass. Being the most influential man in fashion will probably also pass. I mean his fashion choices will probably keep on arousing interest but the world is going to catch up. Eventually.

But acting will stay.

And if in the meantime, he manages to enjoy a little bit of more superficial things and take a shot or two of confidence along the way without regretting too many decisions he made, I say why not let him do that? It’s not like we have a word to say anyway.

I understand what you mean about missing him being sweet and humble even if I disagree with you. I’m not saying that he’s not sweet and humble anymore but I felt something shift between the BB era and TK era. It’s also frustrating because it’s more a feeling than something I can prove or explain. I just don’t think he’s changed, I think he’s a little bit more guarded than before. And if I look at things from an human perspective, it makes sense?

The more people are watching me, irl or online, the more I’m going to be cautious about things I said and how I behave. The more guarded I’ll be. And in my case, we’re only talking about dozens from a few hundreds tops of people tops. Can you imagine living your life in front of millions people? I’d put some distance and some defenses between me and the world as well. He has to if he wants to survive.

We’ve been lucky to have witnessed something as precious and rare as what we have witnessed during the CMBYN and a little bit during the BB era. It was something beautiful but it wasn’t meant to last. Not in the same kind of proportions anyway.

So I don’t think Timmy is acting like the biggest diva. Like I’ve said, what we see of his life is 99% work-related and we see about 10% of his time? Less of that?

Like for example, he’s been in London for what? 10-12 days now? And if I’m not mistaking, we haven’t seen him anywhere except from fans meeting him briefly outside of the theater and him picking up food? Whatever he’s doing, if he has a wild life or if he’s in bed at 9pm every night, he’s being discreet about it. Like he’s always been discreet about his private life, his close friends and his family. Just because he’s discreet about it doesn’t mean he doesn’t see them — old friends and people who aren’t famous. He just doesn’t feel the need to post their face on social media or meeting them in front of paparazzis.

Of course if I wanted to see him as a diva, I could. I’d look at him wearing sunglasses inside and declare that he’s a diva. When there could be thousands of reasons for him to wear sunglasses inside. I wouldn’t surprise me to learn that flashes during fashion week are painful for the eyes, especially for people with color eyes as light as Timmy’s. Especially if you’re tired. Or hangover. Or maybe he’s just thinking of sunglasses as an integral part of his outfit. Like shoes or socks or jewelry or backpacks. Or maybe he just feel safer that way and it helps his anxiety. I tried wearing sunglasses all day long at a couple of occasions when I was particularly tired and it was kind of amazing. Plus it allows you to avoid eye contact with humans which is also amazing.

I wanted to touch a little bit on the fashion topic before moving on to the Armie one. I’m guessing you’re not really passionate or fond of fashion. It’s ok. You’re allowed to and fashion and haute couture don’t do much to help themselves. Or didn’t do much. I guess things are slowly changing like everywhere else. But there are a lot of ego, of superficiality, a lot of changes and improvements that could be made. A friend who has worked for designers and still work in the fashion industry once told me that the industry wouldn’t be that bad if designers stop acting like they were saving the world with their clothes. My point is, just because something has a reputation, doesn’t mean every person who takes part of this thing has the same reputation. There are people in fashion who are truly passionate about what they’re doing and teach you things about fashion that make you look at clothes as wearable pieces of art. Because when you look closely at haute couture, you can see that fashion can take its influences in architecture, sculpture, painting and in many many others artistic disciplines. It has its own history, its own revolutions, its own movements. It tells something about our time and ourselves as a society. All of that goes without even mentioning the close relationship between fashion, high fashion and movies, which I’m sure is very interesting from a Timmy perspective. (I swear I wrote all of that before reading the Dazed itw. Like pinky swear).

At this point, Timmy could have a seat in the first row for every fashion show of every brand. He could attend to all of them, with a different outfit for each, make a show every time and take all the clothes that designers would sell their cat to see him wearing. He doesn’t. He shows up for about two designers and communicate about one more and that’s all. It’s work. Something related to his red carpet premieres. It’s fun and something he uses to express himself and his personality. I think he said something in the Dazed interview among these lines. That fashion is fun but is main focus in on acting.

Here :

“With the development of my career, I also slowly entered the fashion industry. I can feel that fashion and movies are similar to a certain extent. For me, participating in a movie or wearing a suit is about the people I work with, not the brand or money. That's why I keep working with Haider and Virgil. I also maintain good relationships with many brands, but I will not be overly tied to fashion for this. Because my career is an actor, my dream is to be an actor, and I am very satisfied and very happy to be an actor.”

Regarding of Armie… Honestly I’m kind of tired of the debate. Because I’m tired of what the debate says about how we see relationships these days, without even talking about Armie and Timmy.

I’m still trying to understand at which point we has started to need public proofs of private relationships. Likes, Facebook statuts, pictures shared publicly, couple selfies… I mean what the point? How have we become so insecure about relationships and ourselves that we’re now feeling the need to share proofs of private relationships with the whole world to believe it? And to the point that we are now projecting our own insecurities on relationships of others? It makes absolutely no sense to me.

If I wasn’t talking with/seeing my close ones for a whole year or a whole decade for whatever reason, they would still be my close ones. I believe the same thing about Armie and Timmy. Except these two idiots seems to be talking to each other all the time and seeing each other pretty regularly. But because Armie isn’t about work anymore, we don’t have to see it.

Over the past four years, they’ve done nothing but showing and saying how much they care about each other and know about each other and how much they’re still close. Timmy literally said I love you to Armie in a damn public speech. Name me another person for whom he said that. The three words, plane and simple.

If you’re willing to believe that liking each other post on social media or showing up at a public events or pose in front of photographers are better proofs of closeness that what they’ve been doing so far, that says something about how you see relationships, not about how they really are.

Loving someone is not always about rubbing it off publicly for everyone to see. More often than not, loving someone is about answering your phone in the middle of the night, because the person you love and care about can’t sleep or is on another time zone and needs you. That something you can show off on social media or get papped. And maybe we need to start to believe that it’s even more valuable exactly because of that.

#alft asks

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saphyrenights · 4 years ago

Note

*whispers sensually* scilescoe transformers >:3

Nonnie...nani?

“I-I-I don’t know how to explain it, Scott. It’s just...humanoid now.” Stiles grit his teeth and put the phone closer to his face. “And I’m kinda into it.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone. “What?” Scott finally said. It was close to 2AM, and Stiles almost certainly woke Scott from a sound sleep. He expected the grogginess, but he needed to make sure Scott took him seriously.

“Look, I’ll send a pic. Hold on.” Stiles backed up to get as much of the baby blue behemoth in frame as he could in the deserted Dairy Queen parking lot. Luckily, he’d parked under a light, so the Jeep was suitably bathed in amber light. Enough for a photo. He snapped the pic and sent it to Scott.

There was another long moment of silence. Finally, Scott said, “Dude. What happened to your Jeep? It’s, like, really buff.”

“I know! Scott, you have to get down here and help me with this!”

“What do you want me to do, exactly? I’m not a mechanic.” He chuckled a little at his own joke. Stiles groaned.

Suddenly, the sound of metal scraping against metal cut thorough the relative peace of the parking lot. “Let me speak to him,” a voice rumbled in the darkness.

Stiles looked around to see who was speaking, but when he turned back to the now-human-shaped Jeep, the Jeep was looking right at him. It even flashed its headlights in Stiles’ face.

“Um,” Stiles gulped, his hand trembling around the phone. “I’m gonna put us on speaker. Okay?”

Roscoe nodded. Stiles tapped the speaker icon and held the phone out to the Jeep.

“Hello, Scott. This is Roscoe.” The voice rumbled around Stiles like thunder, sending deep vibrations into every corner of his body. Words failed to describe the experience, but a part of Stiles wanted to hear Roscoe speak forever.

“You know how Stiles lets you drive me, on occasion? Do you want me to tell him what you sometimes do with your foot on my clutch when we’re stopped at red lights?”

“Wha-” there was a scuffling sound and a loud thunk on Scott’s line. A few seconds later, “How do...I mean...Stiles are you joking, right now? Did it just talk?!”

“Yes. And this is beyond awesome.” Stiles got a little closer to the Jeep and gingerly placed his hand along Roscoe’s now upright fender. Startled, he quickly pulled his hand away. The Jeep was warm. Roscoe emitted a low, rhythmic reverberation that may have been a chuckle. Stiles shivered, his cheeks paradoxically warm.

He spun away from the Jeep and spoke directly into the phone. “Scott, please get your ass down here before I engage in a crime against nature.”

“Yes, Scott. Please hurry,” Roscoe rumbled.

Less than 10 minutes later, Scott rolled up on his bike, still in his pajama pants, a thin flannel he’d tossed on over his tank top, and bedhead at maximum thanks to the helmet he’d just removed. “How did this happen?” he asked as he drew closer to Stiles. That was a question Stiles should have put more thought into before now, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

“Like I said, I can’t explain it. Magic? A spell or something?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t sense anything magic related.” Scott paused and sniffed the night air. “I can tell you exactly who’s horny right now, though.”

“This isn’t about me,” Stiles muttered.

“No,” Roscoe said, suddenly serious. “This is about both of you.” He took a step toward them, and Scott’s claws popped out almost immediately in response. Stiles’ mind briefly flashed on the government issued 9mm he kept hidden in his glovebox, where ever that may be inside Roscoe’s rearranged body.

Roscoe stopped in his tracks. “I do not wish to harm you.”

“Then what do you want?” Scott asked. Somehow he was able to see through the Jeep’s hotness and ask all the questions Stiles should have asked awhile ago.

Roscoe sagged a little, and Stiles could swear he looked...sad? “My people need your help. You see, I’m not the real Roscoe. I and a few of my compatriots have been sent here to find someone who can help stop the war that’s tearing my planet apart. We’ve been watching you two for some time.”

“And?” Stiles asked.

“We have witnessed your many accomplishments and determined that you are our best chance at defeating the great evil. Please, come with me.”

Scott looked at Stiles. This makes zero sense, his expression said. Stiles gave him the I agree with you, but let’s just see where this goes eyebrows. Scott rolled his eyes and turned back to the Jeep.

“What do you mean when you say ‘compatriots?’ How many of you are there?”

Roscoe smiled. “Assessing the threat. Very good. This is why we think you can help us.” He took another tentative step forward, and when Scott made no move to attack him, he continued. “We infiltrated a local Toyota dealership a few years ago based on intel we’d received about a group of fierce warriors who lived here.”

“Scott’s pack.”

“Yes,” the Jeep replied. “You two were the first, and so you will come with me.”

“Okay,” Stiles said. Scott tugged on the back of his hoodie to stop him.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Scott asked him.

“It’s Roscoe, Scott. We can trust him.”

“We can tr-...Stiles, you’ve never trusted anything in your entire life. I know how much you love your Jeep, but did you miss the part where he said he wasn’t the real Roscoe? For all we know, this could be some kind of trap.”

“Scott,” Roscoe interrupted, “would you like for me to tell Stiles about my clutch, now?”

Scott released Stiles’ hoodie. “Are you blackmailing me? Really?”

“What’d you do to his clutch?” Stiles might not have been able to smell other people’s emotions, but he definitely recognized the cute blush creeping up Scott’s neck.

“Nothing,” Scott insisted.

Stiles snorted. “Liar.”

Roscoe swung open one of his doors. Scott and Stiles saw the inside had been transformed into something that resembled a cockpit. Stiles could barely contain his excitement; it’s as if all his childhood mecha dreams were finally coming true. But one thing immediately stood out to him.

“There’s only one seat,” Stiles pointed out.

Roscoe shrugged. “A minor design flaw. I assure both of you will be safe during our intergalactic journey.”

“Intergalactic?!” they said simultaneously.

Roscoe shifted his gaze up to the night sky. “My planet, Cybertron, is beyond the boundaries of your galaxy. We must hurry.”

Scott turned pleading eyes to Stiles. “I have an owl scheduled for surgery in the morning. And someone brought in a stray cat that’s going to have kittens any day now. I don’t want to add ‘stop an alien civil war’ to that list.”

Stiles gently squeezed Scott’s arm in sympathy, but frankly, Stiles was looking forward to being gone for awhile. Today was his last day of vacation, and a mountain of boring paperwork awaited him at him back at the FBI field office.

Also, Roscoe was hot.

“Will your people tell our family and friends where we are?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“See?” Stiles felt Scott relax the tiniest bit.

“And my bike?” he asked.

“One of my people will retrieve it.”

Stiles grabbed Scott’s hand, and together, they approached the open door. Stiles climbed inside first.

“Hey, wait-” Scott couldn’t get the whole sentence out before Stiles had claimed the only cockpit chair and started touching shiny, multicolored blinking buttons in awe. Once Scott was also inside the cramped quarters, Roscoe close the door behind them.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Scott asked.

Stiles reached out and hauled him down onto his lap. “Right here. It’s just like when we were kids.”

Scott apparently saw the futility in protesting, so he tried to make himself as comfortable in Stiles’ lap as he could. A little too comfortable. Scott was a warm, heavy weight in Stiles’ lap, and his body seemed to apply pressure to Stiles’ body in all the right/wrong places. After a few seconds of enduring the best kind of torture imaginable, Stiles tapped Scott’s shoulder.

“Um, Scotty? Buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But if you don’t do something, this is going to be a really long trip for both of us, so can you maybe calm down?”

“My beloved Jeep is a person now, and I get to go to space with my best friend. Can you blame me for being excited about that?”

“Excited? Yeah, you are. In more ways than one,” Scott muttered. He slid back a little more into Stiles’ lap. Stiles choked off a curse.

“Only one thing is gonna fix that,” Stiles said, his voice sounding a little huskier than he intended. “Maybe two.”

“Oh, my God. You’re the worst, Stiles.”

“If you really believed that, you would have asked me to switch. But you didn’t, did you?”

Scott adjusted his butt yet again. The torture was deliberate and would apparently not be ending any time soon. Stiles sighed. That seemed completely fair somehow.

As though making the decision for both of them, a seat belt snaked out of one side of the chair and connected to the other side with a mechanical click. The belt tightened over them, pulling Scott even more firmly into Stiles’ lap.

He tried really hard not to think about how his half-chubb was now nestled neatly in the cleft of Scott’s ample, supernaturally warm, pajama-clad ass.

Roscoe’s voice filtered into the cockpit through hidden speakers. “Are you two settled?

“As settled as we’re gonna be,” Scott replied. He sounded calm, but Stiles knew him well enough to tell he was far from okay. Their position was a little awkward, but Stiles still managed to take hold of Scott’s hand. He was relieved when Scott interlaced their fingers and held on for dear life.

The lights dimmed in the cabin, and the sound of something charging up resonated all around them.

Just before lift off, Stiles had to ask. “Scott, what exactly did you do to Roscoe’s clutch?”

Scott sighed. “Nothing, I swear...”

#foreversciles #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #scilescoe #joeldawsons #mobile users there's a cut #divvy do you mind if it tag on this :)#nonnie #my fic #been awhile

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Note

Good Omens. Can I kiss you? Please. Thank you

Hello, nonnie! I’m assuming that’s a prompt? XD Well, even if it’s not, here’s a one-shot. I hope you enjoy.

Can you hear me, God? It’s me. Crowley ... (1510 words)

Crowley visits Aziraphale at his bookshop and discovers that the mail system, and Gabriel, have done him wrong yet again ...

“How come every time I come in here lately it’s a new adventure in mail shenanigans?” Crowley complains, slogging through a mound of envelopes to get to – surprise, surprise! – another, bigger mound of envelopes. “Are you subletting to Publishers Clearing House then? They’re one of ours, you know.”

“Ha-ha ...” Aziraphale grumbles from amid the largest pile, lumped on his sofa and formed into a moat around him for easy access.

“Or did you rob a post office?” Crowley leaps over the last pile and lands clumsily beside him, scattering envelopes left and right, sending them flying across the covered floor. “Because if you did, I’m tellin’ you now, that’s a huge turn on.”

Aziraphale huffs in annoyance, collecting up the letters that went adrift within arm’s reach. “No such luck for you, I’m afraid. This is my latest assignment. I now get to manage the letters that humans write to God and send thru the post.”

“What are you supposed to do with all these?” Crowley picks up a handful and flips through them, searching for names or addresses he might recognize, tossing them over his shoulder when he doesn’t.

“Read them, sort them, categorize them. Anything I deem a priority gets sent to the head office.”

Crowley opens a few, hungry to cause mischief, if he can. “And what happens to them there? Do they get answered?”

“Some do.” Aziraphale clips a stack of letters together at the corner and sets them aside. “A lot of them will get re-read, re-sorted, re-categorized, and then …” He lets the sentence hang as he collects up a new stack of letters, no semblance of an emotion other than exhaustion on his face.

Crowley looks up from the letter he’s reading – a request from some slimy fuck to not let his wife find out he cheated on her with his sister-in-law. What pretentious twat would write God about something like that? And then be daft enough to send it through the post!? “Then … what?”

“They get filed away,” Aziraphale replies sadly, watching Crowley fold the letter he’s been reading and stuff it in his pocket. Aziraphale’s eyebrow arches, his eyes pointedly following the letter into Crowley’s coat, then stares at him questioningly.

“I think it best if I handle this one,” Crowley explains, patting his pocket. “Went to the wrong address, if you ask me.”

Aziraphale looks about to argue, then shrugs and lets it go, and Crowley digs into another letter.

“Okay,” he says, waving the new letter in Aziraphale’s direction. “This one’s a priority for sure!”

“What does it say?” Aziraphale asks in an even tone, as if he already knows.

“It’s from a little boy whose mum has cancer. Stage IV. He says she probably won’t live to see Christmas.”

“Right then.” Aziraphale reaches for it. “Let’s send that one up.”

“It’ll get answered, right?”

“We can only hope.”

Crowley stops, pulls the letter back. “What do you mean we can only hope?”

“I don’t make those decisions, Crowley. You know that.”

“But you believe this little boy deserves to be helped, right?”

“Of course, I do, but …”

“But …?”

“But God decides. And whether She helps or not, She has Her reasons. We’re not allowed to question them.”

“Right.” Crowley glowers, his eyes transforming to a brighter, more venomous shade of yellow. “Of course She does. And as we both know, She makes some bully choices.”

“Crowley …?” Aziraphale pleads, leaning forward, arm extended.

Crowley relents and holds the letter out. Not too relieved, Aziraphale reaches for it. But before his fingers come in contact, Crowley snaps his and the letter dissolves. Aziraphale’s eyes, half-lidded from a day of reading through humanities’ desperate pleas for help, fly open.

“Crowley! What did you …? Did you answer …?”

“I did nothing,” he says, brushing his hands together. “You saw nothing. You can’t prove a thing.”

“Crowley! I know how you feel! I really do! But let’s say that every letter here is from someone who wants the Almighty to save a dying loved one. Or themselves. And we save every single one of them. Do you know what happens then?”

“A bunch of people’s lives get saved. You’ve filled your good deeds quota, and humans of the world are happy. Maybe they even begin to believe in God again, did you ever think of that?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale sighs, looking decades older when that syllable passes his lips. “I did. I have. But as much as we hate it, there’s a system at play. To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven.”

“I know Ecclesiastes, angel,” Crowley grumps.

“A time to be born, and a time to die,” Aziraphale finishes, his heart aching with the way those words chip into Crowley’s armor. “If we don’t let humans pass when their time comes – the mothers, the fathers, the children - there won’t be any room for the new ones. The population will overwhelm them. It’ll put a strain on the planet. There will be no food for them, no clean water, no place to live.”

“They’ll find a way,” Crowley growls. “Humans always do. They’re resilient.”

“Aren’t you the one always telling me that the humans are destroying the planet? That they’re pretty much putting demons out of a job with the Evil they do?”

Crowley crosses his arms over his chest, pulling back into himself as Aziraphale speaks, his feelings on the subject wrestling sharply with Aziraphale’s logic. His sound logic.

“They’ll suffer,” Aziraphale continues. “And then we’ll have a new pile of mail sitting here to go through.”

Crowley rolls his head away, eyes drifting to the closest pile of envelopes, tracing over the words written on them without actually reading them. Aziraphale’s hand, reaching for the letter, finds Crowley’s arm and squeezes gently.

“If we give every human what they want, if we save every life, we’ll be solving their problems in the short term, but that won’t last. The pain and the heartache will continue on in the long run.”

“So you’re fine destroying one person to save another?” Crowley chuckles cruelly. “Of course you are. Your lot have no problem killing innocent people over the smallest infractions, do you? Not even children.”

Those words, Crowley’s tone, hit Aziraphale hard, but he can’t take them personally. Crowley isn’t angry with him. He knows that. As difficult as it can be to remember, he does know it. “I don’t get to make …”

“You don’t get to make those decisions. I know.”

“I know you think my job here on Earth should be to save everyone. And it is, but not the way you think. I’m here to try and make people see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“And the light is …?”

“That love survives. It persists. It fights to the death. And after death, it’s still there. And if you have faith, you’ll find it.”

“You do realize that ex-es out about seventy-five percent of the population, don’t ya?”

“No. It includes people who don’t have faith in God, per se. Just because someone might not believe in the Almighty doesn’t mean the Almighty doesn’t believe in them. I think that, maybe, you know that better than anyone.”

“Shove off!” Crowley snaps between his teeth, but he doesn’t move out of the reach of Aziraphale’s hand. He goes quiet, chewing on his tongue, and considers what the angel has said. His eyes narrow angrily for a moment, but he gives up his anger with a long breath in and a doubly long exhale. “They give you the suckiest jobs, angel. Don’t they?”

“Oh, I don’t know that I get any worse than any other angel.”

Crowley shakes his head. No. Of course Aziraphale wouldn’t see it that way, regardless of the horse shit Gabriel keeps piling on him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Do you want to? You don’t seem too pleased with me.”

“I am. But even if I wasn’t, I would be later, so can’t we start now?”

Aziraphale’s weary expression softens with the onset of a small smile. “Sure, my dear. Why don’t you slide on over …” Aziraphale surveys the mess of envelopes between them and chuckles “… if you can.”

Aziraphale carefully re-locates the nearest stack of envelopes to a clean spot on the floor while Crowley sweeps others thoughtlessly off the sofa and sits on the rest. He slides up to his angel and kisses him, not waiting a single breath for a word or a look. One arm cradles Aziraphale against Crowley’s body, distracting the angel with a hand kneading his shoulder, while behind his back, covered by that kiss, Crowley snaps a small pile of letters to his flat for future review.

Aziraphale’s fingers find Crowley’s hair and thread themselves in, pulling him closer, pulling him deeper. But behind his eyelids, covered by that kiss, Aziraphale knows what Crowley has done – how he stole those letters, how he intends on breaking the rules.

And he says nothing.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Frankie writes

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