#ginger whisperer au

[littlelewdmable]

Jaune The Ginger Whisperer Part 30: Spearmint

Summer: Well, she certainly looks interesting.

Ozpin: Indeed.

Neo: 😐

Jaune: What's wrong with Ruby?

Ruby: *Still being cuddled by Penny

Penny: She committed a social faux pas.

Jaune: Such as?

Penny: She implied that she could cure acquittance-Mint's muteness with a remote.

Jaune: Oh, well that's a mistake anyone could make. I assume she's apologized already?

Penny: Yes, but acquittance-Mint has not accepted her apology.

Jaune: Oh, come on Mint. I'm sure Ruby didn't mean it. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body. So, what do you accept her apology?

Neo: *Rolls her eyes, nods*

[notmaplemable]

Just Checking In

[howlingday]

Hey just wondering. if you could you please make a quick link list for your longer and/or multi part post(eg. Tai 2.0, ginger whisper, etc.) I ask because I missed a part in one and it takes ages to scroll all the way down your blog to find it....

I'll collaborate with @notmaplemable on this. If need be, I can make a master post of both of them, like I did with tragic backstory au.

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L���Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 07 - Picnic Sex]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU

Kinks: public sex on a meadow, drunk sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, praise kink, good girl kink, sensory play where he makes her guess with what he is touching her, vaginal penetrative sex in missionary, use of a condom, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), giggly and cuddly aftercare, Yoongi is a cute menace when he is tipsy

Wordcount: 4.6k

a/n: i missed this couple so much!!! holy moly i’m sobbing in the club, they’re the cutest!! goodness :( thank you for requesting this, i’m in love with them <3

Yoongi has been gazing for more than ten minutes. His lips are curled into a constant, soft smile and his eyes sparkle adoringly. He also has his head tilted to the side slightly, kicking his feet mindlessly. He doesn’t know that he is gazing, but you finally notice after coming down from your wine induced monologue about tea. 

You swallow down the flutter of your heart, cheeks heating up under his gaze. 

“Sorry, I was talking a lot.”

He shakes his head, smiling drunkenly and fluttering his lashes, “you weren’t”, he says softly.

“I just think tea is so neat.”

“I know you do. It is.” 

A shy giggle slips from you, shoulders lifting to your ears.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Just so dreamily. It makes me shy.”

Yoongi chuckles and scoots closer. His chest brushes the side of your arm and he has his hand propped up on the picnic blanket behind your butt. Like this, you can smell his sweet breath and practically feel his kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t help it”, he whispers and brushes the back of his hand down your cheek as gently as possible. “I love listening to you. Everything you say is so wonderful.” 

“Are you drunk?” 

His flushed cheeks and droopy eyes should be answer enough. 

“Maybe a little.” He drops his cheek on your shoulder, peeking up at you through his lashes. “The wine is so good and the food was amazing and you are beautiful and this date is perfect”, he gushes as his fingers trace your stomach and thighs mindlessly.

You giggle, nudging him with your nose. You learned from dating Yoongi that he becomes very cute when he is drunk. He gets clingy and touchy and his loosened tongue can’t stop saying the sappiest stuff. He also giggles constantly and gets such a cute blush on his cheeks. You already think that he is cute on normal days, but when he is drunk, you could smooch him constantly because of how adorable he is. 

Yoongi sighs dreamily and kisses your shoulder, straightening up afterwards. He currently has ginger hair, which reflects the autumn sun in shades of orange. You lovingly like to call him your tangerine because of it.

“Close your eyes”, he says and because you trust him, you do. You know that if he asks something like this, the outcome will be nice for you. You stay seated for a while, enjoying the silence of the moment. 

You and Yoongi went on a picnic date on the meadow today. It was a sunny, warm autumn’s day and you felt like getting out of your houses. So you met up on your bicycles with homemade food in your baskets and your pets next to it, ready to drive down into the valley for a nice date. Levi and Holly are napping together in the grass just a little to your right, the food has been finished already and the bottle of wine, Yoongi brought, is half empty. Which explains why you and he keep giggling and snickering. You are both just tipsy enough that the current moment is so, so exciting and nice.

Yoongi still hasn’t acted on whatever he was planning to do.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, snickering. “Did you leave?”

“No. Guess what I’m using”, he says and a second later you feel something light tickle your face.

You giggle, chasing the sensation. He starts off at your temple, guiding it over your cheek and down your neck until he traces your exposed collarbones. You are wearing an autumn sundress today, which reveals your collarbones and cleavage. 

The sensation stops, the ghost of its touch remains on your skin in tingles.

“What was that?” he asks. 

“Something that tickled, mhm, maybe a feather?”

“No, try again.” The sensation begins anew, sending shivers down your back. It makes your heart flutter in giddiness.

Stop. It is time for you to guess. 

“Is it grass?” 

“Yay, you did it.”

You open your eyes, inspecting the blade of grass between his fingers. He picked the flower for it, which explains why it felt so feathery on your skin. 

A drunken snicker leaves you and you draw closer to him.

“This was fun. I wanna try again.”

“Okay, I’ll give you more.” 

You close your eyes, waiting impatiently for his next touch. Something soft like fabric. He dances it from your temples down to your collarbones.

You smile, turning your head to where you think his face should be.

“That’s your jumper.”

“Mhm, which part?” The sensation starts anew. He is so gentle as he guides it over your skin. It feels so good.

“Your sleeve? Maybe?”

“Correct.”

You open your eyes, meeting his adoring gaze. He lets out a soft chuckle and pokes your nose with his own, rubbing the tip against yours afterwards. You close your eyes halfway, reciprocating the affection. 

“One more, please?” 

“Okay, one more. Close your eyes.”

You obey, skin tingling in anticipation. The touch is chaste, tickling your skin.

“Are you fluttering your lashes against my cheek?” you ask in a snicker.

“Yeah”, he laughs.

“Oh god, you’re silly.”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, dancing his lips to your ear afterwards to whisper. You shiver like crazy at the feeling of it, sighing quietly.

“Two more guesses, okay?” 

“Yeah okay…”

The next object is obvious to you with the very first touch.

“Your fingertip!”

“Mhm, correct”, he whispers, dancing it down to your collarbone to trace it. 

You open your eyes halfway. He is breathing a little heavier than before.

“What’s the last one?” you ask him, breathing heavier as well.

“Close your eyes and guess.”

“Okay.”

You can hear him shimmy closer to you and then you feel it. His lips on your neck, kissing the most sensitive spot.

You tilt your head back, parting your lips in a surprised moan.

Yoongi purrs, sucking on your skin gently before he lifts his lips. You open your eyes, looking at his pouty lips.

“And?” he asks.

“Your lips”, you sigh, gazing dreamily.

“Correct, you did so well.”

“Hah”, you let out, eyes practically lost in the view of his lips.

Yoongi, who notices and feels tingly because of it, speaks softly. He traces your thigh with his fingertips as he does, gazing at your neck.

“Wanna have a reward?”

“A reward?”

“Mhm, it’ll feel good”, he says, ghosting his lips over your neck without touching it.

“Ah”, you let out, chasing him.

“Is this a yes?”

“Yeah, please.”

He climbs atop of you, laying you down on the blanket as he does it. 

You allow him happily, exposing your neck to him so he could keep kissing you. He claims the opportunity happily, showering you in kisses and careful touches. By now, it is an unspoken shared feeling by both that this is turning you on. It was sweet at first, but sweetness sometimes tastes too addicting not to crave more of it. The day is so nice, the date so romantic and you have been sharing such nice intimacy on your little, comfortable blanket. You are also giddily drunk and stupidly in love with each other. It was bound to happen that all of these feel good emotions escalate. 

Yoongi still lifts his lips to ask, hands on an innocent place.

“I know you already said yes, but is it really okay for me to touch you?”

“Yes, is it okay for you too?”

“Yes, more than okay, my darling.” He kisses your jawline once. “Just tell me to stop if it gets too much, okay?”

“Yes okay. You too, yeah?” 

“Mhm, yeah.”

He lowers his lips, planning not to lift them again for quite a while. You fall into the sensation with a sigh, melting like a drop of chocolate in the sun.  

He kisses every inch of your neck and jawline, even giving you soft bites because he knows that you love the sensation. His lips brush against your ears as well, allowing quiet moans to reach them and with it, make you shiver. It is so hot to feel his moans like this, it will always excite you.

Yoongi of course knows that and he will use every card against you to get you as turned on as possible. He loves turning you on, especially when you look as pretty as you do today.

“I love this dress on you, I love it so much”, he breathes, rubbing his palms over the soft fabric while his lips are tasting your collarbones.

“Thank you”, you sigh, wiggling your feet. He always makes you feel so beautiful. 

“I love the colour and the fit and the fabric. You make this dress look so beautiful, my darling”, he continues, right hand sliding to your waist to trace it. The dress is a little tighter around your waist, giving it a synched look. It also makes his touch feel like electricity on your skin, forcing your back to arch off the blanket.

Yoongi purrs, kissing a path down your chest until he reaches your cleavage. The position and gravity naturally makes your breasts lay flatter than as if you were standing up, but Yoongi still buries his face in them. He makes a funny noise as he does, eliciting a loud cackle from you. You ruffle his hair instantly, chest tingling in happiness. 

“You’re so stupid”, you laugh. 

“I had to do this. I love your tits”, he mumbles, voice playful and happy. 

“If you say so.” 

“Mhm, I do.” He gathers them in his hands and massages them gently. “I really do.” 

“Wow Yoongi…this is…so nice…” you sigh, arching into his touch.

“It is. So nice”, he breathes, placing loving kisses on your clothed breasts before moving lower. 

By now, you are practically panting in excitement, body shuddering each time he touches a new spot. He has both hands on your sides, holding you safely as his lips kiss a path down your clothed stomach.

Soon every inch of it is kissed as well and Yoongi straightens up. You open your eyes, meeting his adoring gaze. His cheeks are pinker than before. 

You prop your feet up on the blanket and open your legs. Yoongi’s eyes widen, he does a sneaky double take before gawking at your face in shock. 

“Please”, you beg.

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes. You?”

“What? Of course I am, you don’t gotta ask. You know me, I could live between your legs”, he says and lies down on his stomach, burying his face in your inner thigh to munch on it playfully.

You giggle and whine, writhing deliciously at the sensation. He is kissing and sucking your skin, leaving the softest of bites as well. They don’t hurt at all, they’re a soft graze with his teeth before his tender lips replace them. The sensation is so tingly that you could honestly scream. He riles you up so much.

Soon, you cannot take the teasing anymore and you reach down to rake your fingers through his locks.

“Don’t tease please.”

“I’m not, you’re just impatient.”

You chuckle, heart fluttering. You love when he bickers with you. He is such a cutie. A cutie who currently takes off your panties, making you heave in excitement. You help him slip them off your legs, then prop them up again as wide apart as possible.

Yoongi chuckles because of your eagerness, running his palms down your inner thighs.

“You’re beautiful, darling”, he says, meaning your pussy.

“Yoongi, you’re still teasing”, you whine.

“Yeah, that’s right. I was teasing right now.”

“God, I can’t stand you”, you laugh, ruffling his hair.

Yoongi smiles, lowering himself like this. He purrs, kissing your pussy to get her used to him. Your laughter stops, a loud gasp replaces it.

“Mhm, so soft”, he lulls, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

“Oh.” Your hips flinch up. “Wow.” They drop again, legs twitching aggressively.

Yoongi lets go of you and finally darts out his tongue, guiding it through your folds to part them. You are already a little wet, making him purr in contentment. He loves your taste and your scent. He runs his hands to your hips, holding them safely. One squeeze for good measures.

“Don’t stop please”, you sigh, feeling more and more turned on. He is still gentle right now, going slow. It is so nice to be worked up this way.

Sometimes Yoongi gets really hungry for your pussy and he goes down on you sloppily and quickly. It overstimulates you within seconds, forcing you to yelp up and orgasm after just a few licks. He is very cocky whenever that happens because of how quickly he can make you climax. And you love these moments, they’re so sexy to you.

You can’t lie however and you have to admit that you really, really love when he is being gentle with you. The pleasure goes so much deeper and builds up so much more. The fact that he is capable of doing both is also very arousing to you.

“You’re so good”, you praise, voice breathy.

“Mhhm”, he purrs into you, guiding his wet tongue through your folds until he has your clit under it. He slides his left hand from your hips, using two of his fingers to part you and therefore expose more of your clit. Like this, he circles his tongue around it, careful not to grace it directly but instead make the area around it sensitive.

“God this is torture”, you both whine and chuckle, closing your legs on him slightly.

“Mh-hm, is good”, he lulls, pushing your legs apart with one hand. His tongue continues its teasing rounds while his right hand rubs your inner thigh. He purrs and does the unthinkable thing of dancing his tongue down to your entrance instead.

You throb around nothing, chasing him in a weak roll of your hips and cursing under your breath. If you weren’t already dizzy from the wine, you are definitely dizzy now that he teases you so much.

Yoongi listens to your needy curses, feeling really dizzy himself. You taste stronger than you did before, a sure sign that he managed to get you wetter. Yoongi laps it up deliciously, eyes closed and button nose buried between your soft folds. He loves when he gets messy from your pussy, burying his nose deeper while his tongue teases your entrance.

“Please, this is torture”, you let out in a whine, scratching his scalp softly but needily at the same time.

“What do you need?” he dares to ask as if he wasn’t teasing you on purpose. Gosh, he is such a menace when he is drunk and therefore playful.

“More, I can’t take the teasing please.”

“Again, you’re just impatient.”

“Min Yoongi”, you warn, lifting your head just enough that you can make eye contact with him. His eyes sparkle boyishly, his cheeks are flushed. He is also kicking his feet giddily.

“Okay, okay fine”, he laughs, “I give up. Do you want my fingers, mhm?”

“Yes please, two of them please.”

“Okay, I’m only doing this because you’re impatient.”

You drop your head with an exasperated groan, mumbling a quiet “you’re so annoying.”

He chuckles and puts the pads of his middle and ring finger against your entrance. He spits on them so the slip would be easier then finally applies pressure. You take him in greedily, walls practically sucking him in.

“Yes, god yes”, you moan, thrusting your hips ecstatically.

“Slipped right in”, he croaks, feeling his cock throb in his pants. He didn’t expect you to take him so easily nor to be so wet inside for that matter and it’s really affecting him. Once entirely inside, he begins moving, pumping his long digits in and out your soft walls.

“This feel so good”, you moan, fingers closing around his left hand.

“It does. Fuck darling, you’re…” he trails off, deciding to let his tongue do the talking another way. He presses it against your clit, licking it eagerly while his fingers fuck you slowly and deeply.

“Yes this, yes this, yes this, please this”, you chant, body beginning to writhe in pleasure. You always like to whine when he is teasing you, but it is always so worth it. Now that he finally pleasures your favourite spots, it makes you literally float on cloud nine. The warmth is so deep, so constant, so good. The slight intoxicated buzz of the wine makes it even more intense.

“This please, this please, this, this, ah this…”

Yoongi moans into you, grinding his cock into the ground. He is so turned on, head fuzzy and body running on nothing but you. He wanted to make you feel good ever since you went on your monologue about tea. He loves listening to you so much, everything you say is so interesting to him and you look so cute when your eyes are glowing from intoxication that Yoongi knew he had to make you feel good ever since you began talking about tea. Witnessing you in such a state, tasting how wet you are, feeling how much you clench is everything his drunken heart needed. And he wants to do everything in his power to make you feel as good as possible. He curls his fingers each time they grace your g-spot, staying there for a few seconds to massage the tender spot. And each time he pleasures your insides, he focuses his licks on the most sensitive part of your clit. Judging by the noises you are producing, this is going to make you orgasm.

You never tell him that something is bringing you close because it then does the exact opposite for you. You somehow stress yourself out about orgasming and then stop being close. So you always stay quiet until you are literally in the middle of climaxing. Yoongi never thought that it was weird that you did that, instead he studied your reactions until he learned just from your noises and movements when something he does is bringing you close. Like this, you can enjoy yourself without stressing and Yoongi is having the best time. Yoongi loves doing this for you because he loves you and he loves making you feel good.

Today is no different. Yoongi keeps using his fingers and mouth on you while you get noisier and shakier with each touch and lick. He can’t wait to have you climax, moaning with you as he brings you closer by the second.

Three more eager licks and with his fingers against your g-spot, and he breaks you.

“I’m cumming”, you moan, already shaking out of control.

Yoongi growls into you, enjoying the tug you have on his hair as he helps you ride out your orgasm. You are also grinding your hips into his face instinctively, smothering him in your warmth. He is in heaven. He really is.

“Oh, uh, ah”, you let out once overstimulation sets in, fleeing him in flinches of your hips, “ah, wait.”

Yoongi knows that you aren’t a particular fan of intense overstimulation and so he slips his fingers free, kissing a path up your body.

“Damn this was…okay phew”, you get out, making him chuckle and nibble on your jawline.

“Did you like it?” he coos drunkenly.

“Did I like it? I loved it, oh my lord.”

He snickers, sucking your cheek into his mouth as if he was eating your face.

“No, don’t do that”, you whine, pushing him off gently.

“I can’t help it. You’re so cute that I wanna eat you.”

You whine, nudging his chest because he flusters you so much. Yoongi smiles, snuggling his nose into your cheek.

“Do you want more?” he asks.

“Do you want more?” you ask him.

“Maybe? My cock’s so hard.”

“Oh god”, you snicker, “poor boy.”

“Yeah, poor boy. God, I wanna fuck you so bad”, he says, grinding his hips into you.

“Oh”, you gasp, shuddering in reaction and gripping his back, “Yoongi, holy fu-ah.”

“Please ___ can I fuck you? Please?”

“Yes, please do.”

He moans, kissing your cheek in gratefulness, “thank you, thank you, oh thank you.”

“Just do it, you drunk doofus you”, you snicker, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, right.” He sits up and looks around. “Wait, I need to figure this out. I don’t wanna expose my butt”, he says, making you laugh.

“I don’t think anyone would see”, you say, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could get the condom from your bag as he undresses.

“I can’t risk it. What if someone does? Then they’ll see my pale ass. That’s embarrassing. I wouldn’t complain if I actually tanned, but I look like a ghost right now.”

“You would still complain, come on now”, you cackle, making him chuckle.

“You know me so well.” He finally managed to get his cock out of his pants without exposing his butt. “There we go. That should work”, he says.

“That’s so sexy, baby. Here, condom.”

“Thanks, darling”, he accepts it and opens it to roll it on. 

You watch him, feeling so excited for what was to come. He gives his cock three jerks for good measures then lies himself over you.

“Hey there”, you say, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Hey there”, he says, leaning into your touch. He guides his cock to your pussy, grinding it through your folds. “Mhm, so wet. Can I stick it in?”

You nod your head vigorously, “stick it in, please.”

“Look at me, yeah?” 

“Mhm yeah.” 

Pressure on your entrance for just a second then he breaches you, cock sliding into you easily. You and he moan together, eyes getting lost in the other’s.

“Wow, this is so nice”, you sigh.

“Yeah, so nice”, his voice is practically nothing but airy sounds. He is so far gone, giving up completely once he bottoms out. “Fuck”, he presses out, eyes rolling back and head dropping so his nose is nuzzled into your cheek.

“You’re so deep”, you croak.

“Mh-hm”, he whimpers, nodding his head. He shivers when you run your hand down his back so you could hold his hip.

“Move please.”

He fulfills your wish gladly, rolling his hips into you gently but deeply. He wants to stay inside you, feel you around every single inch of him. He is so happy when he is inside you, so happy.

You gasp and moan his name, head rolling to the side in defeat. He chases you, lips against your neck and eyes closed.

“Feels good?”

“Yeah, feels good. You’re so deep, ah Yoongi.”

“Mhm so deep. You’re taking me so well, baby.”

“Yoongi…”

“I love when you moan my name. Makes me wanna fuck you so good.”

You shiver from just his words, arching your back. Your clothed breasts rub against his clothed chest this way. He reaches down and caresses your back once before he pins you down onto the blanket gently, sliding his thumb to your clit.

“Yoongi”, you moan louder, clenching around him and scrunching your face.

“So good, such a good girl. Keep moaning my name”, he lulls, turning your brain and limbs into goo. He is so sexy when he praises you. You didn’t even know that you had such a huge praise kink until he did it one night and you literally melted.

“Yoongi…”

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Such a good girl”, he praises, rewarding you with slightly harsher thrusts. He is still incredibly gentle, but there is strength behind them. Strength and skill, meant to make you see stars.

“Yoongi!” you wail, arching your back.

He moans in reaction, twisting the blanket above your head. His cock throbs deep inside you, his stomach flutters. There is nothing that gets him off more than when you moan his name. He feels so good when you do and as if he could fucking do anything. Seriously, you give him such a boost of confidence when you act this way during sex that Yoongi feels almost unbearably cocky.

“Don’t stop please.”

“Put your finger in my mouth.”

You open your eyes, “huh?”

“My mouth, put it in”, he says, sticking his tongue out.

You follow his order, although confused. Yoongi takes your finger and licks it greedily, making you moan from the sensation.

“You’re so hot, oh god”, you mewl, throbbing around him.

He purrs and lets it slip out, “rub your clit with it. I need both arms to support myself. My shoulder hurts otherwise.”

“Oh god, you’re so sexy. Yoongi”, you moan, replacing his finger with yours.

“There we go, good girl”, he growls, slamming his elbow onto the ground next to your head and grabbing the blanket roughly. He angles his hips better, using the new support to pump into you sloppily.

“Yoo-”, is all you get out before your tongue stops working and all you can make are the most primal of noises.

“Yeah that’s it, isn’t it? You like that, don’t you?” he taunts, sounding so sure of himself.

You nod your head vigorously, whimpering each time he buries his cock deep inside your walls.

“Of course you do. You are so beautiful when I fuck you. Shit, I’m dizzy. You’re driving me insane.”

“Yoongi, you…cum…”

“Don’t hold back, I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.”

“Say…it…please…”

He cradles your cheek, lowering his drunken voice seductively.

“Cum for me, darling.”

“Ah, Yoongi!” you break instantly, scratching up his back as you clasp him desperately.

“Good girl, cum for me, such a good girl”, he talks you through it at first, but then you squeeze him so tightly that he feels lost as well, “you’re making me cum too, ah ___.”

He drops his face into the crook of your neck, releasing into the condom a second later with a guttural growl. You scream his name in reaction, wrapping your limbs around him as tightly as possible. It forces his weakened body to drop on yours.

“___”, your name leaves him in a whimper, his arms cradle you against him as best as possible, “wow this was, wow.”

“Yeah, so wow”, you agree, melting under him. It’s so nice to have his weight on you and to calm down in his arms.

“How are you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, so okay. You?”

“I think my heart gave up. I nutted so hard.”

“God you”, you laugh loudly, “ever since you have orange hair, you’re a menace.”

“Mhm yeah probably”, he teases and gives your cheek a kiss for good measures before he has to sit up and slip out so the condom wouldn’t fall into you. He rolls it off his cock and ties a knot, then wraps it up in a fresh napkin. He hands you your panties.

You sit up and put them on while he stuffs his cock back into his pants.

“I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think someone saw us?”

“Probably not. The day is really quiet.”

“Let’s hope so. Oh my god ___, I can’t believe we did that. Are we insane?” he says, suddenly shrinking shyly as he draws closer with a giggle. He even hides his face behind his hands, laughing with his shoulders.

“Actually, you’re right. What were we thinking?” you agree, suddenly having to giggle shyly as well.

“This is what happens when we drink wine. We have stupid ideas like that.”

You agree in snickers, falling around his neck in a tight hug. He hugs you back instantly, giggling into your neck.

“I love being with you, Yoongi baby.”

“I love being with you, ___ baby.”

[the-travelling-witch]

thinking about a spider-man au with childe

you’ve had a crush on ajax basically since the first day of college. he’s funny and witty, surprisingly smart for his jock aesthetic and -let’s face it- very hot. all of which is contrasted by the way he fumbles through a conversation with you, an air of clumsy yet innocent charm about him.

and then you’re walking home late at night. an arguably questionable decision that ends with you coming face to face with a criminal you’ve seen on tv before. but just as you’re contemplating your options, your heart leaping out of your chest, you’re being swooped up and into the strong chest of the uprising hero people have been whispering about in the hallways.

all of a sudden, high above the city skyline, your heart is pounding for a whole other reason as the guy tries calming you down. he sets you down not far from your apartment and you thank him profusely, to which he merely assures you not to worry about it.

as you fall into bed that night, you can’t stop thinking about the way his muscles moved beneath you, how melodic and familiar his voice was. when you try to imagine what he looks like underneath the mask, somehow blue eyes and ginger hair come to mind but you shake it off as your brain conflating your college and celebrity crush.

meanwhile, ajax is sitting on the edge of a building, dragging a hand down his face as he tries to regulate his heartbeat. going over his conversation with you again, he mentally kicks himself for basically anything and everything he said. seriously, would he ever not fumble while talking to you?

[pretzel-box]

REVERSE AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 7 : A cure so sweet

Tags: Reverse AU, Fluff, Established Relationship, Lots of cute interactions, sick sebby

Words: 1,3k

If Sebastian hated one thing above all, it was feeling sick. That strange, sickly sensation would settle deep in his bones, weighing down his every movement. His nose constantly ran, and sneezes came out of nowhere, only adding to the misery. Hiding from monsters in a deadly facility was already hard enough, but being sick made it almost unbearable.

Fortunately, he had you—a brilliant partner with a shop filled with a strange assortment of junk, some of it actually useful.

"Aw, come here, Sebastian!" The moment he stepped in, you pulled him into the warmth of your shop. Several heaters hummed along the walls, and Sebastian already knew you’d make him settle in his usual spot, close to one of them.

Sebastian groaned as he slumped into his designated spot near the heater. His head was heavy, and he shivered despite the warmth. You knelt down in front of him as best as you could with a soft, concerned smile, your hands already busy. A blanket appeared out of nowhere (probably pulled out from one of the shelves), and before he could protest, you draped it around his shoulders.

"You're worse than I thought," you teased lightly, brushing his messy raven hair away from his forehead. "You always try to power through it, but not today."

He gave a half-hearted grumble, but leaned into your touch, appreciating the small moments of comfort. "I’m fine," he muttered, but the rasp in his voice betrayed him. "Just need to—"

"Nope." You cut him off, placing a gentle finger on his lips. "Today, you’re resting, no excuses. I’ll handle everything."

Sebastian sighed, but the softness in your eyes melted his resistance. You moved away briefly, returning with a cup of hot tea. "Here, it's ginger. It'll help with your throat. I found it recently in a cupboard down the hall near a break room.”

He took the cup, his fingers brushing against yours. "Thanks," he murmured, taking a sip and wincing at the sharpness of the ginger, but the warmth spread through him, soothing his throat. "You always know what I need."

"I know you better than you think," you said with a grin, settling beside him.

He glanced at you, eyes softening. "I'm lucky to have you."

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder. "You always take care of me in the chaos out there. Let me take care of you now."

Sebastian’s lips curved into a faint smile as he closed his eyes, leaning into your warmth. The world outside might be a mess, but in this small shop, with you beside him, he felt a little less broken.

Sebastian let out a long sigh, sinking further into the blanket as you pressed closer to him. The warmth from the heater mixed with the comfort of your touch, and for the first time all day, he felt a bit of the tension leave his body. He placed the half-empty cup of tea on the floor beside him, his hands finding their way to you, pulling a part of you gently onto his lap.

"You know," he whispered, his voice still hoarse, "you make it really hard for me to stay grumpy."

You smiled, shifting so you could wrap your arms around his neck, your noses nearly touching. "That's the plan," you said softly, brushing a light kiss against his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut, the simple gesture easing away the lingering weight of sickness. "I like it when you're all soft like this," you teased, your voice dropping to a quiet murmur.

Sebastian chuckled weakly, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. "Only for you," he whispered back, his voice low and rough but filled with affection.

The moment hung between you both, thick with the warmth of shared comfort. You leaned in again, this time pressing a tender kiss against his lips. It was slow, gentle—like neither of you wanted to break the moment. He kissed you back, lazy and soft, as if all the energy he had left was reserved just for you.

When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together, and Sebastian's eyes stayed closed, his breathing steady. You shifted slightly, nestling into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His arms instinctively tightened around you, his hand slowly tracing circles on your back.

"You know you don’t have to push yourself so hard," you whispered against his skin, your breath warm and comforting.

"I’m used to it," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. "But with you… it’s different. You make me want to slow down. Just… be here."

You smiled against his neck, letting your lips brush against his skin before you placed a lingering kiss there. "Then stay here," you said, your voice tender. "With me."

Sebastian let out a content hum, shifting slightly to pull you even closer. "I think I could get used to this," he whispered, his lips finding yours again in a slow, lingering kiss, as if time itself could pause in the warmth of your embrace.

Sebastian sighed softly into the kiss, his lips barely brushing against yours as he held you close, the warmth between you both making the world outside feel distant. When you finally pulled back, your fingers instinctively moved up to his hair, threading through the soft strands and gently stroking his scalp. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut once more as a content hum escaped his throat.

But then, a small frown appeared on his face as a particular thought hit him too late. He shifted slightly beneath you, as if something was gnawing at the back of his mind. "Hey," he murmured, his voice still raspy. "You should probably keep some distance... I don't want to get you sick."

You paused your gentle strokes, tilting your head to meet his gaze. He looked so torn—worried, even in the middle of all the comfort you'd been giving him. His brow furrowed slightly, like he was already kicking himself for letting you get this close while he wasn't feeling well.

"Sebastian..." you whispered softly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. "You know I don’t care about that."

He opened his mouth to protest, but you silenced him with a gentle kiss—quick, reassuring, filled with all the affection you'd been holding for him. His breath hitched slightly, his hands tightening around your waist, but before he could get another word in, you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

"I’m not going anywhere," you said, your voice firm but full of warmth. "You’re stuck with me, sickness and all." You gave him a soft, teasing smile, your fingers resuming their gentle motions through his hair. "Besides, what kind of partner would I be if I didn’t take care of you?"

Sebastian’s face softened, but his concern lingered. "I just… I don’t want you feeling like this," he muttered, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your hip.

"Maybe I will," you shrugged playfully, "but we’ll deal with that later. Right now, all I care about is making sure you feel better."

His heart swelled at your words, and the way you kept running your fingers through his hair was slowly breaking down his resolve. He leaned his head against your chest, his eyes closing again as he let out a deep breath. "You’re impossible," he murmured, though his tone was soft, affectionate.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And you love it."

"Yeah..." he whispered, his arms wrapping around you more tightly. "I really do."

For a moment, you both stayed like that—Sebastian curled up in your arms, his worries slowly fading as you held him close, your fingers moving rhythmically through his hair. The warmth between you was more than just physical; it was the kind of comfort only you could give him, a sense of peace that no amount of chaos in the world could take away.

"You’re everything to me, you know that?" His voice was quiet, almost as if he was afraid to say it aloud.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you gently tilted his head up so you could look into his eyes. "And you’re everything to me," you replied softly, leaning down to kiss him again, slow and deep, as if you could pour all the love you felt for him into that one moment.

Sebastian kissed you back, his worries finally slipping away as he melted into your touch.

It took exactly two weeks till you were bedridden and absolutely sick, crying out loud for your boyfriend.

[punkshort]

Come Fly With Me

Thank you anon for this request!

I'm double dipping and using this as an entry into my own AU August Writing Challenge ❤️

Pairing: pilot!joel miller x flight attendant!reader one-shot

Summary: You and Joel have a little fun in the cockpit.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), competency kink, public sex (kind of?), unprotected piv sex, reference to blow job, light spanking

WC: 2.5K

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Welcome on board flight 1092, flyin' from Orlando to Austin. Our flight time today is 2 hours and 40 minutes, but I know a few shortcuts, I'll get us there a little quicker.

You smiled to yourself when you heard the familiar ripple of laughter cut through the plane.

On a personal note, this flight is particularly special for me. My wife is on board today, so if you see her, please don't listen if she tells you 'bout my drivin'.

Captain Miller just got married a few days ago and it was still strange to see the gold band around his finger. It seemed he was struggling with it, too, because you caught him fiddling with it every time you glanced inside the cockpit.

You listened from the galley, doing your checks and making sure everything was locked and secured as Joel announced the temperature, how to operate the systems installed in the seats, and how to call an attendant for help. It was a speech you heard a thousand times.

Finally, he wrapped things up with on behalf of myself and the crew, thank you for choosing us as your airline today. Have a wonderful flight.

You stood at your post with a smile plastered across your face as you watched Marissa and Brian explain to bored looking faces how to engage the floatation device and oxygen masks hidden around each passenger when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You didn't even turn around. You knew who it was.

"Once we're clear, come and see me, sweetheart."

A thrill of excitement slithered down your spine and you tilted your face to the side so you could whisper, "you're a married man, now. We shouldn't be doing that anymore."

"A ring 'round my finger ain't changin' a goddamn thing here."

And then he was gone.

It took nearly an hour. A full hour where you had to do your first round of service, handing out snacks and drinks to people who mostly ignored you and rarely offered their thanks before you brought your cart back to the galley to clean up.

You heard the door to the cockpit open and Frank, the co-pilot, stepped out and stretched. He saw you and smiled, nodded his head, then asked if he could take ginger ale, like always. And your response was always the same.

"You don't need to ask, Frank."

He grinned and gave you a little salute before he did his rounds. Frank was very personable. He enjoyed meeting new people and hearing their stories. When an extrovert has a job where he meets new people every six hours or so, it's a match made in heaven.

And it's especially good for you and Joel because you both know he won't be back for at least half an hour, probably more.

Glancing around to make sure none of the other flight crew saw you, you tapped lightly on the door then slipped inside.

No matter how many times you saw it, and at that point it had to have been hundreds, the cockpit always left you breathless. When you first step in, you're instantly overwhelmed with lights, buttons, levers and monitors. The control panel was absolutely massive and intimidating. And it was one of the things that attracted you to Joel in the first place.

Watching him operate a plane with such ease, hardly even having to think as he went through the motions turned you on from day one. Part of you always thought he knew it, too. From the moment he saw you, he knew he had you in the palm of his hand.

And you loved every second of it, married or not.

"Captain," you said breathlessly, then grinned when he turned around and slid off his headset. The ache between your legs had been steadily growing for the past hour and you were at the point where if he didn't do something about it within the next five minutes, you would take matters into your own hands. Literally.

"C'mere, darlin'. Why don't you sit on my lap?"

He patted his thighs, clad in dark navy blue, same as your skirt, and you giggled before doing as you were told.

He hummed appreciatively and ran his big hands up and down your legs, which were spread wide and straddling him.

"Pretty little thing," he murmured. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and slowly, subtly, began to roll your hips.

"What if someone catches us one day?" you whispered before leaning forward to taste the skin under his jaw.

"Ain't no one gonna catch us," he assured you, dragging his hands up and over your hips to cup your ass and give it a firm squeeze.

You groaned and started to move your hips faster. You could feel his cock stiffening against his leg and you felt yourself clench around nothing. Fuck, you wanted him so badly. Every single time it was like this. Your need for him was never quenched. But still, you enjoyed teasing him from time to time.

"Didn't you just get married a few days ago?"

You felt his hands pause momentarily, leaving your skirt hiked up around your waist but your underwear still on.

"What's your point?"

You smiled and bit gently at his earlobe. "My point is, wasn't your wedding night enough to satisfy you?"

His hands resumed exploring your body and you felt a deep rumble vibrate from his chest.

"You know the answer to that."

And he was right. You did.

The answer was the reason he asked you to come see him in the first place.

Joel slid his fingers past the waistline of your panties, swiping them through your folds with a pained groan.

"Fuck, so wet, baby," he said. Your hips tried to chase his fingers, tried to keep him where you needed him most, but he was too fast.

"You gonna fly this plane and fuck me at the same time, Captain?" you murmured seductively. He smirked and nodded.

With your breath coming in quick little excited pants, you tugged on his zipper while he pulled your panties to the side.

"Need me that bad, huh?" he teased, and normally you might say something smart right back, but on that particular day you wanted him more than usual. Maybe it was the gold band that was catching the sun in just the right way, the thought of him being married now egging you on and making you needier, but whatever it was had the seam between your legs absolutely dripping for his attention.

"Oh!" you cried out, then immediately slapped your palm over your mouth when you first felt him breech your opening. He chuckled and continued to guide your hips down, watching in a trance as you took every inch of him deep within your walls while you whimpered in his ear and tried you best to remain quiet.

"Shh, darlin', I got you," he said softly, his own face pinched as he tried to hold back from slamming up into you. "I got you. Yeah, feel that? Feel how good you take me?"

You nodded because it was true. You could feel your body relaxing and opening for him, happily welcoming him back in.

He gave you a few minutes to adjust. He always did, and you appreciated that. You were always the one who ended up doing most of the work given the small space, so it was the least he could do.

With a sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder and gazed out at the clouds while he gently stroked your back. The view never got old. It felt so surreal every single time, to be staring out at such beauty while stuffed full of his cock. It didn't get much better than that.

He whispered your name, voice sounding strained, and you lifted your head.

"Who's needy now?" you asked with a grin. He bit lightly at your chin and gave one of your ass cheeks a quick slap with his palm, making you jump and giggle before you began to roll your hips over his lap.

Joel's fingers dug into your skin with a sigh, gazing up at you adoringly while you rode him just the way you liked. There was something so fucking hot about him having complete control over the aircraft, hundreds of lives in his hands every single day, but you were the one who had the power over him. You were the one he yearned for, ached for. Since the first day you were assigned to his crew, he couldn't keep his hands to himself. He began to request you specifically be assigned to his flights as much as your schedules would allow, then one day on a particularly long flight you had brought him something to eat without him even asking. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes and you just desperately wanted to take care of him, so you brazenly dropped to your knees and took him inside your mouth while his eyes fluttered closed, the only noises filling the air came from the back of your throat and the tinny voice echoing through his abandoned headset nearby.

The rest was history.

He wondered if getting married might dull his desire for you, but he was foolish to think his feelings could ever change.

"Fuck, baby, that's it," he growled when you picked up the pace and began bouncing in his lap, your tits jostling in your navy blue polo. He feverishly yanked the hem of your shirt up so it bunched up over your breasts and he made a pathetic little noise when he saw the white, lacy bra you had on underneath.

"Look at you, filthy thing," he murmured, squeezing at your covered breasts. "Fuckin' a married man like this. But I bet that just turns you on even more, don't it?"

You moaned and tipped your head back, chin aimed at the ceiling of the cockpit. His lips dragged down your throat, tongue shooting out to taste your skin, careful not to leave a mark. He was convinced at least Frank knew what you were doing in here but he didn't need to give the rest of the crew any reason to gossip.

Air traffic control crackled through the radio, checking in like they usually did when the plane reached a new zone.

"Hang on," he told you, so you gripped his shoulders while he leaned forward to pick up the receiver. His thumb hovered over the button to answer when he gave you a look. "Didn't tell you to stop, did I?"

You grinned and resumed fucking yourself on his cock while he pressed down on the button, dropping his voice to sound more professional when he answered the man on the other end. He confirmed his coordinates, his credentials and his flight pattern with ease, all while you circled your hips and ground yourself down, your clit catching on the coarse hair at the base of his cock. You had to bite back a moan when he was talking, the pleasure mounting low in your belly making it difficult not to make any noise.

Finally, he put the receiver back and you moaned his name, your face buried in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound.

"You fuckin' love this, don't you? Love gettin' fucked in here, love the thrill of it, huh?"

"Yes," you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut as you closed in on your release. "Oh, god, Joel - fuck!" you sobbed when he began to lift his hips from his seat, fucking up into you, matching you thrust for thrust, grunting like an animal in your ear each time your hips made contact.

"Lemme feel you, baby. Wanna feel you shake for me," he said through clenched teeth. You gasped and nodded, mustering every ounce of energy you had left to slam yourself up and down on his thick cock, so desperate to come you didn't care if the door flung open and the whole plane saw what you were doing.

"Tell me how it feels, honey," he said. He must have been close, too. You've done this enough times to know he likes hearing you talk dirty to him right when he's about to come.

"Feels so good," you began, "you always fuck me so good. No one else has - shit - n-no one else has ever... oh, god, Joel," you whined, losing focus when your vision began to blur.

"Don't stop," he begged, his thrusts becoming sloppy. "Keep talkin', baby, please."

"Will you come inside me?" you whispered, your teeth scraping against your lower lip, turning the skin raw. "Wanna feel you inside me the whole flight. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," he gasped, forehead beaded with sweat, face flushed and jaw slack. "Yes, yes, yes... fuck! C'mon!" he groaned, slapping your ass a little harder than before.

You kept babbling, telling him how big he was, how badly you wanted him, how no one else has ever fucked you as good as he does when your voice caught in your throat and you came around his cock with a strangled moan.

He didn't hold back. He circled his arms around your waist and fucked up into you recklessly, your cunt pulsing around him while your chest heaved and your fingers clawed at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself through your high.

At the last second he pressed his face against the side of your neck, pinning you against his chest. He moaned, his mouth falling open when he came, not caring how loud he might have been. It felt too fucking good to feel himself fill you up, feel his hot spend pooling and dripping down his length while he weakly pressed into you, prolonging his orgasm as best he could before his limbs went weak and he sighed against your chest.

You were cooing in his ear, telling him how good he did, how full you were, fucking thanking him while his shoulders sagged and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Can't get enough of you," he whimpered. You grinned and kissed the top of his head before lifting yourself off his lap. He helped you slide your underwear back in place, the fabric immediately soaking with your combined release while you fixed your polo and stood up.

"Shit, my skirt's gonna be wrinkled," you muttered while he tucked himself away and zipped up his pants.

"Next time we'll just have to take it off," he teased, making you giggle and playfully swat at his shoulder.

"Next time? What would your wife have to say about that, Captain?"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your left hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. He silently appraised the two rings nesting on your finger with a pleased smirk before letting you go.

"I don't know, you tell me."

You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his lips, lingering for an extra moment before pulling away.

"She'd say she can't wait."

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[daisystwistedgarden]

mdni. consensual sexual images discussed. college au.

cater diamond is the type to never shut about about the fact that he was lucky enough to fuck you. he won't act pathetic about it in public-- in fact, he's sly and haughty, brazenly slipping in details about that night around his peers and underclassmen, always dancing on the line between too much and not enough detail.

"did you know the prefect has such cute bedhead in the morning?" "oh, listen to how loud they are when they're angry! i know it's not the only time they're that vocal, though~" "the prefect's bed is quite comfortable, especially while they're in it cuddled up against you... how do i know? well, cay-cay spends a lot of time with them, you know."

most of his classmates have started to call his bluff. there's no way he's that close with you. out of all the people you're close with on campus, you'd let cater of all people into your bed?

it comes as a surprise, then, when cater's showing something to ace and deuce on his phone, that he slips up and shows them his home screen while switching between apps.

the background of the image is dark, drawing all focus to the two bodies on screen. cater's over your shoulder, lips on your ear as he whispers honeyed filth to you in the dead of night. ginger strands hang loosely from his usual hairstyle. sweat beads visibly at his hairline. his body is bare and blurry, hinting at movement, as he has you pinned on your stomach and presses into you from behind in a classic prone bone. your shoulder and enough of your face are in the image-- just enough to give your peers a look at the lust-drunk grin on your fucked-out face. it's hot, messy, and a bit blurry. nothing explicit is shown but, well, the image is all too clear in suggesting what must be happening.

maybe it's a simple slip up on his part. maybe it's just enough to get the rumors doubting cater's special relationship with you to stop as your fellow freshman spread the word.

maybe you're just as naughty as him, seeing as your response to the rumors is to send him a simple text.

"i want matching home screens. my room tonight? we'll get the perfect shot this time."

[ginevrapng]

𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄?

pairing: george weasley x slytherin!reader

word count: 5.2k words

content: no war au, non canon quidditch match, fluff, some angst, insecurities

a/n: this was super fun to write and my first long harry potter fic, hopefully you all enjoy it! hopefully george isn't too ooc in this. i might make a part two of this with smut but i'm not sure yet.

"did i ever tell you how beautiful you are?" spitting out your drink in shock you turn to look at your best friend and see him looking at you, swaying drunkenly. george has definitely had too much to drink tonight. before he can say anything else that you know he'll regret in the morning you cover his mouth with your hand. "honestly george, i leave you alone for an hour to talk to adrian and you get wasted and start sprouting nonsense. normally you're the one stopping me from doing stupid stuff, georgie," you giggle, vowing to make sure you don't get any drunker so you can get you both home safe.

you first met fred and george in potions in your 4th year and it was a rocky start, they didn't like slytherins and you didn't have the time and energy to waste on trying to get people to like you. however that all changed when in one class fred nearly messed up his wit-sharpening potion by putting gurdyroot in instead of ginger root, immediately you grabbed his wrist before he could put it in, straight away scolding yourself for doing such an idiot thing and dropping his hand. normally you wouldn't've minded if someone messed up their work, plus potions was your best class so it'd be less competition but sitting in front of george weasley and then right next to fred it was inevitable you took a liking to their antics, even if you never told them so or even spoke to them.

at the time fred was extremely suspicious, some girl who he'd never spoke to before stopping him from putting in an ingredient. before he could even question it you stated, "it's meant to be ginger root, you've got it wrong." you turned away from him and carried on with what you were previously doing, not wanting to see his reaction, you warned him and he'd do with that what he will. you expected him to not respond but you didn't expect utter silence from his workside. "you can believe me or not, i don't care. don't just do nothing though, snape's going to think you're up to something and it'll distract me when he comes over."

you started to get pissed off at weasley's lack of movement before you heard him not so quietly whisper to george, "oi, what's meant to be in this thing? gurdyroot?" you didn't hear what george said, you're not sure if it was because he was actually quieter or if you were slightly stunned and pleased with the fact he took some notice on what you said and didn't throw away what you said you said completely. in the corner of your eye you saw fred turn back around and almost sounded reluctant as he replied, "shit. urrr thanks.. i guess."

after that day you both took more interest in each other, only talking when having something that needed to be said but that was definitely an upgrade in your relationship. george took notice of this change but others didn't. by the end of your fourth year you talked in potions together all the time, with george joining in by leaning over to talk to you both, cheekily winking at you whenever he caught you looking at him, promptly leading to an eye roll from you and occasionally walking over to you under the guise of needing to get something where you were, leading to many detentions and you vowing to never speak to him again if he distracted you in crucial parts in class. everybody just thought george wanted to talk to fred but they were wrong.

you also listened to their prank ideas, giving impute when you can but mostly just fascinated by everything they were saying. you'd stealthily give them presents for christmas and their birthday and they'd always tease you about it but you'd always be able to tell they liked what you gave them. they also decided to bother you while you studied in the library. to this day you think about shock people must have had when fred and george said they were going to the library for the first time, madam pince probably thought she was going mad when she saw them.

it just turned into a secret, your friendship, you're not really sure how, you just knew that fred and george didn't want people to know about you. you wish you could have said the same but you had no interest in what others thought of you. you were very prideful of your house but you didn't care about your reputation, at those times you wish the twins felt the same. you would like to say it didn't bother you to keep quiet about how you're friends with them but it did, not all the time but sometimes it did get to you. you'd finally found amazing friends and they actually liked you for you and have interest in what you had to say, they were probably the closest friends you had and had ever had. you knew that you kept to yourself and you liked that fred and george somehow managed to get you to open up so being made to never speak to them in front of other people hurt sometimes. you sometimes wondered if you mattered that much in their lives.

that was answered to you after a quidditch match, slytherin against gryffindor. slytherin won by a landslide and for some reason the other team were off their game this time, whatever the reason it was a win to slytherin. you wished you could have cheered on fred and george, they are great beaters but you knew you couldn't have cheered for them, that's okay though because adrian was on the slytherin team and you two have always been close since first year. you were decked out in all green, cheering him on and the rest of the team, house spirit and all, scarf and socks matching, watching them play.

on your way back into the castle you see a small commotion and notice the green robes so you went over there to see an argument between some of the two teams. malfoy spewing rubbish like all ways. more and more people were starting to come over and you knew soon one of the professors would get there, you were not going to lose house points today, especially when you've just won the game and gained house points in return. "the only reason you're still on the slytherin team malfoy is because your father's paying flint's parents to keep you on the team." you heard potter say as you walked up towards them.

you reached your hand out to touch malfoy's shoulder pulling him back. "let's go malfoy, it's not worth it, we just won."

you froze as you heard potter talk to you, he'd never even looked at you before, now he's got it in for you. "who are you, anyway? just some other blood-purist? bet you're so proud of your house cheating." if you were more confident in that moment you would of spoken up, would've told him to shut it, that he knows nothing about you. but you realised everyone is looking at you, slytherins, gryffindors even hufflepuffs and ravenclaws and the twins are behind harry and oh god you felt sick. you tried your hardest to not look the twins in the eye or even in their direction at all. you thought that they're probably disgusted that they ever talked to you. you're nothing like what potter thought you were and everyone who knew you knew that but fred and george never did ask you questions about your beliefs, maybe afterwards they had doubts when potter said that.

you kept your head down and walked away, pushing against people, clearly trying not to cry. you just wanted to get out of there. you found out how much you mean to the twins when george see's your figure leaving, going back to the castle. without much thought about the situation he goes to correct harry, because there was no way in merlin he was going to let someone think that about you. fred beat him to it though, "she really is nothing like that harry." george pushes against everyone as he followed you, catching up with you quickly.

"don't worry about it, harry just doesn't know you."

you couldn't help it, it just came. you were overwhelmed with emotions and frustration you stop momentarily, spun to face him and shout, "that's the whole problem. he doesn't know me! leave me alone weasley, i never want to speak to you again." you walked off quickly, deciding you're done. it's over and you just want to sleep for the rest of the day.

george wasn't too fond of this idea and he catches up with you again. honestly he was slightly taken aback by your outburst, one second he saw you desperately try to stop malfoy from saying anything else due to not wanting to get into trouble and the next second harry made you run off while trying not to cry. he wished that you never saw the fight between them all, he hoped you didn't think ill of him. "please don't go, let's just go wait for fred somewhere, he's probably still fighting with malfoy."

"didn't you hear me weasley, i'm done. i'm not going to be your stupid secret. i don't want to be your bloody friend only when it suits you."

george never meant for you to think that you're a secret and he knew fred felt the same. "i'll fix this." you didn't answer but all you could think was 'no, not this time.'

you did however successfully help deescalate the argument. gryffindor's confusement with how the twins stood up for you left malfoy to throw a couple of snide comments without any reply from them, leading enough time for pansy to notice mcgonagall on her way over and warn all her house that they should leave, including a very worked up malfoy.

"what the bloody hell was that all about?" ron questions fred, everyone else turning to face him thinking exactly the same thing.

"well obviously malfoy was being a git like always."

"you know bloody well that's not what i mean."

"is she who you go see when you 'go to the library'?" ginny asks. "i mean seriously, it's not like i believe you both have suddenly started studying multiple times a week."

fred knew ginny's caught him out but he doesn't know what to say. how would they all react to finding out about you and what if you don't even want anyone in slytherin to figure out your friends with two gryffindors.

"we're friends." fred hears as he turns round to see george had come back. he didn't want for you to feel like a secret anymore. he wonders where you are and questions him. "she said she's going... actually i don't know where."

"is she okay?"

george pauses for a second, "we'll figure something out."

ginny was the only one who didn't have something to say about what they'd all just found out. she had a suspicion something was up, she just didn't know what, she really did not think that it would be something to do with a slytherin though. but everyone else definitely was not taking the news too well. not just a slytherin but someone opening being friendly with malfoy, at least in their eyes that's what it looked like.

every time you saw the twins after that you walked away, doing everything in your power to stay away from them. that did not work for long, as two days after the incident you had charms first period with george. mentally preparing yourself to see him and ignore him no matter what he said or how funny he is, you get out of bed, get ready and leave the common room.

as you left you get the fright of your life. "oh merlin, george! what are you doing lurking about?" your heart racing out due to the jump and still trying to be angry and scold him even though you missed him and fred incredibly so. you see him smirk as he tries not to laugh and you want so bad to wipe that smirk of his stupid face.

"i've come to carry your bag, you always complain that you have to carry to many books on tuesday so i've come to save you, i'm your knight in shining armour! we've got charms." before you can even retort and tell him to go away he's taken your bag and is walking off.

"hey give me my bag back!" he doesn't try to keep in his laugh this time as he then assures you that you'll have it in charms. "i need that bag now weasley, if you remember before class there's normally a little thing called breakfast."

"i did actually forget about that. let's go have some breakfast then." he carried on walking and didn't give you your bag back. you're walking in the halls together and you don't know how to react. not only are you angry at him but now you're confused because what the hell does he think he's doing and why did he suddenly care about you enough to be seen with you.

"stop thinking so much. you know me and fred really care about you and we'll make it up to you. we never wanted you to feel the way you have been feeling. godric i'll even drop a bag of dungbombs in mcgonagall's classroom because i know how much you secretly don't like her. even if you pretend you do, i see your face scrunch up in annoyance all the time when she talks."

you unsuccessfully tried to hide your smile, as you mumble about how you want your bag back and how you wasn't even thinking about that. george relaxes more as he see's you smile, there was always that insecurity that you'd never talk to him again after the quidditch match although fred was so sure you would and told him so and he's so fred was right glad.

right now though at this party fred's on his own this time with getting home. you're pretty sure he was talking to seamus finnigan and neville longbottom last time you saw him anyway so it's unlikely you'll see him again tonight if he's with all gryffindor alumni.

you've found it best to stay away from that lot anyway, as you've only properly met the twins family and harry, and you know they're probably very welcoming people now that they know who you are and the twins want you to properly meet them but you had a hard enough time meeting hermione granger for the first time, you don't want the hassle of going through that all again and even after all these years you know that she still doesn't like you, no matter how close you both are to the weasley family. you remember bursting out crying the first time they invited you to spend the holidays with them at the burrow when they found out you'd be staying at hogwarts that year for christmas.

now george has come to find you he hasn't left your side, not even by an inch, so close together you can feel each others body heat, squished on a small sofa together with your thighs touching. he tries to hold out to you and you're unsure about what he wants to do but lean into his touch anyway. "don't get your drink on my dress or i'll kill you weasley."

he grins and pulls you closer, you're now tucked under his chin, being able to feel his heartbeat. you're already hot from the summer heat and the dancing, but you welcome being so close to him, quickly getting used to the position.

'fred's normally the one who's touchier.' you didn't realise you said that out loud until george pulls you tighter to him, humming back to you.

you both sit together for a minute or two, listening to the party-goers and the music in the background. you could sit there all day with george, doing nothing in particular, just being next to him. just like at hogwarts when it was only you and him, fred's off somewhere else and you'd both sit under one of the oak trees in the shade away from everyone else and play with his hair absentmindedly, reading to him as he closes his eyes and listens. but as you go to sip your drink you hear george say, "i don't like how you and fred always touch each other." you stop moving and draw your hand back down without drinking. he really must have no filter when he's had too much to drink.

"what on earth are you talking about george? you make it sound like we're bloody all over each other. you know we don't have any kind of feelings for each other. plus does it really matter to you?"

you look to him and see his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. "you are all over each other though." he looks you in the eye while whispering. "and pucey, what's his deal, you know he was a shit quidditch player right?"

you get up to leave, george may be pissed drunk but right now he's pissing you off. you decide you'll cool off and come find him later on to take you both home. that is unless you see him making out in the corner with alicia spinnet. last time he got in a mood like this with you it was at a party in your last year at hogwarts. for some reason george just had so much to drink and started questioning why you spent the night dancing with fred and even started talking about how you went to the yule ball with flint. aware that you were both drunk you didn't want to argue you left to find fred. later when you came to find george after missing him and wanting to forget about the outburst, you saw him snogging alicia spinnet, his hands on her waist and her hands in his hair. just seeing it made you feel sick and overcome with feelings you don't want to confront as you left the party without saying bye to anyone, nearly forgetting the password for the common room as you stumble inside, wanting to forget about the entire night.

this won't be like last time though as before you can successfully make your escape george holds onto your wrist and drags you back down onto the sofa, nearly landing on his lap. with his other hand he tilts your head towards him, so you're face to face and eye level. too flustered and surprised, you don't move. you're so close to each other that you can can smell the firewhisky he's been drinking and the sandalwood shampoo he uses and his cinnamon scented body wash and cologne. you're so close you can count his freckles and you're trying desperately not too think about this. george is your best friend, george weasley is not someone who should distract you from your surroundings because all you can focus on is him.

"the only person who you should be all over is me. not pucey, not fred, not that twat flint that took you to the yule ball, not that bloody ravenclaw who kept eyeing you up in our 5th year, it's me, not them." your eyes widen as george talks softly to you. you're gazing into each others eyes and you don't think you've ever seen george look so nervous in his life. you think his eyes are beautiful, you've always thought that. like he told you he thinks yours are tonight, like how he told you how beautiful in general you are tonight. but right now it's different, he's being vulnerable and trusting you by letting you look, by letting you softly study his features in more detail than you've ever been able to in the past, it's an open invitation into his heart and soul, trying to convey to you how much you mean to him. his chocolate brown eyes are glazed over and you're unsure if it's due to him drinking or if it's because he's telling you how he feels and he's getting emotional. you see crinkles under his eyes from his countless hours of laughing and smiling and pulling pranks. how he's slowing blinking as if his eyelids feel heavy. you wonder what he can see in your eyes and during this moment you can't even begin to recall what your own eye colour is. the warmth of his eyes making you forget your own, you believe they're probably glassy due to what george confessed.

you licked your lips, suddenly finding them incredibly dry, "why?"

george slightly moves his head back further away from you, "why, what?" george didn't know what you would say but he didn't expect it to be a one word question that he's too drunk to wrap his head around to understand. he genuinely did not know where this night was going to go at the beginning but one thing lead to another and in george's eyes you started getting to touchy with someone and then all these words kept tumbling out that he thought he'd never say out loud.

"why you?" you turn your head away slightly, twidling with your fingers.

"thought it was pretty obvious after all i said love." your stomach flips at the name, "i'm mad about you." he looks at you with bated breath, waiting for your response.

"tell me you mean it." george hears your voice shake and as he leans closer to you to try and get you to look at him again he see's tears running down your face, uncontrollably. he's taken aback by seeing you cry and hates that he's the one who caused it, he's unsure of what he should do after but right now he can't help but to draw you into his arms, holding you against his side, placing a kiss on your head and stroking your back. he hears you sniffle and strokes your cheek, wiping away all the tears. "please.. please georgie. tell me you mean it."

"i-i mean it. i've never meant anything more in my life-," george starts to say but you cut him off.

"are you sure? your friends don't like me and what if alicia spinnet comes up to you and kisses you again or asks you out on a date." you whisper, still holding on tight to him. you're insecurities flowing through you.

"well firstly, i have no idea what my mates have to do with how i feel about or why it matters. and secondly..." he trails off as he then realises exactly what you said. george lifts a hand to your face and gently places under your chin tenderly, lifting your face up and facing him. "wait, are you jealous of alicia spinnet?" he studies your face, red eyes still watery and seeing you heat up and pout. he knew he got his answer and became more confident and self-assured. grinning from ear to ear, he says, "i didn't even know you saw that love. we only kissed once." you furrow your eyebrow causing george to chuckle and gently smooth out the wrinkles with his fingertips before kissing your forehead. "you seem bitter, love?" he teases.

you knows he's riling you up for a reaction but that doesn't stop the reaction. now he knows you might share feelings for him nothing will stop him from pressing your buttons in hopes that you'll get fired up and shout at him because he finds that you're so cute whenever that happens and you might even shout out your feelings and tell him how you feel. he might be able to get you to tell him how you feel about him or if it's only you being possessive of your friend after you've had a few drinks but he really hopes that isn't the case.

"weasley if you keep teasing i'm going to be mad at you," you huff. george hasn't stopped grinning though and you want so desperately to wipe that grin off his face, to have the upperhand but you've lost all capability of telling him you feel the same, you have since your fourth year and even now you worry that you aren't good enough, but you remember to before how he was looking at you and what he said about you and how pleased he looks right now and all of that worry goes away for awhile.

you lunge closer to him and close the already small gap between you two and kiss him, momentarily stunning george by your bold attention before he's smirking and kisses you harder, moving his hands so one is tracing patterns on your waist and the other delicately holding your jaw and cheek.

after kissing for so long it feels like your lips might just fall off, you reluctantly break apart, not realises how much you currently needed air until you could get some. "so you like me too, ay?"

you refuse to answer out of being shy and kiss him again, mainly to get him to stop speaking but there is one thing about george and that's after all these years he knows you like the back of his hand, so he doesn't kiss you back to watch you get frustrated, and boy did it frustrate you. you scowl as you look at him, "why'd you do that?"

george tucks some of your hair behind your ear, causing you to shiver at the action and george to smirk at your reaction. he whispers in your ear, "tell me you like me too, love." you want so desperately to hold onto him but he's moving away from you before you even get the chance to. he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to crack.

you soon crack, just as george knew you would. "bloody hell, george i am in love with you, alright! so kiss me now!"

"you..you what?" if you were more sober you would have instantly regretted saying that, however as soon as the words came out of your mouth you forgot what you confessed to entirely.

you grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer towards you again. "please, georgie, 'need you." that snaps him out of his thinking as he starts kissing you again, this time less soft as before. he's almost hungry now as he's holding onto you tight, and has started moving down your neck, placing kisses in his wake. you softly moan at the sensation before you're rudely interrupted by whistling.

"oi, get a room you two. it's bad enough to have seen you make heart eyes at each other for the last six years." you've never wanted a strangle fred more and it looks like george is sharing a similar sentiment, as he glares at him across the room.

"lets get out of here sweetheart before i punch him in the face." you giggle and stand up.

"that's awfully violent of you george, i'm meant to be the one that gives threats." you've started to sober up a bit now but lean against him anyway, wanting an excuse to be close.

" 'fraid i've always seen through that. you're not very scary love, i mean you scream every time you see a spider. if i trapped you and dear little ronnikins in a room with a spider, just imagine the chaos." he chuckles as he looks at you fondly and holds your hand while pulling you tighter to him, he sees through your guise of needing help to stand and keep steady but that doesn't stop him from holding on to you, any reason or excuse to hold you and touch you he's going to take it, especially now you're both sobering up.

george steers you through all of the people as you're making your way to the door. "wait georgie, do you need to say bye to everyone?" you stop in your tracks and pull in your hand back a bit.

"nah, doesn't matter." you softly smile and hold tighter onto his hand. you hum and follow him out the door.

as soon as you're out the door you're hit with the winter cold. " 'm cold," you grumbled as george was already taking his jacket off.

"here, love," he replied as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, giving you extra warmth. "if i knew it was going to be this cold i'd have brought a scarf." he wraps you up in his arms, slinging his arm around you and sharing body heat, making in difficult to move quickly but appreciating the warmth.

"don't know why we couldn't apparate out of there, bloody annoying if you ask me." you complain.

he laughs as you make a fuss. "there were muggles there."

"what the bloody hell were muggles doing there?"

"careful, love, you're starting to sound like malfoy," he responds playfully, causing you to lightly hit his shoulder and pout.

"you know what i mean. how does he know muggles?"

"dunno honestly, but on the brightside i get to walk home with a pretty girl." you pinch his arm softly to silently tell him to quit it, getting a laugh out of him.

"there's no 'brightside', it's night. plus i'm just pretty?" you feel the need to tease him like he's been teasing you as george always wins in this kind of thing, never failing to make you shy and flustered.

"oh no, not just pretty. the most beautiful person in the world." he tells you without missing a beat. in response you kiss george's cheek, pleased and feeling fuzzy at what he said and you both walk together in comfortable silence.

"so you're in love with me," he remarked. you can hear his grin. the cogs turn in your brain as you remember what you told him.

you keep your head forward even though you want to turn away, and silently thank how you're still slightly tipsy, giving you the courage you need to not deny your deeper feelings. "shut up weasley."

george spins you to face him, your skirt flowing with the movement, the skirt that you definitely should not have worn tonight no matter how long it is. pressing your foreheads together he whispers, "i love you too. now lets get home before i freeze my bloody bullocks off."

you burst out laugh and bury your face in his neck, this time making him shiver at the touching contact. you don't think you've ever felt happier than right now, as the man you love loves you too.

you carry on your walk and swing your hands intertwined with his. "does that make me your girlfriend georgie?"

"merlin! it better be, six years is a long enough wait."

[tigersharkapologist]

Septimius Geta and Septimius Caracalla Headcanons

headcanons for these dorks because if I dont put this out there I’ll explode, also some au things in here⊹ ࣪ ˖

TW: mentions of child abuse and murder 𓃦

Geta 𓃭

- oh the angst on this one

- He grew up very insecure about his complexion, namely his hair. Not many in Rome were born ginger. He’d get compared to the barbaric tribes they were taking over.

- A lot of the elders would whisper about he and his brother being a bad omen from the gods.

“The last time we had an emporer who bore a fire branded mane, Rome was burning while a fiddle played.”.. they would say..

- He and his brother heard the stories of such evil rulers as bed time stories told by their mother, Julia.

- It was tradition for every heir to the throne to hear these in hopes that it would scare them into growing, well, not evil.

- Yeah this just gave them nightmares, caracalla frequently sought his brother for solace, wailing that one of the “vile ones” (past not so great sadistic emperors) was under his bed.

- Geta’s favorite snack is Enkhytoi!

- He and his brother would frequently raid the Head Chef’s kitchen for the sweet pastries.

- They were seldom caught in action, but you could always tell it was them due to the lingering scent of honey and the obvious crumbs on their faces.

- Geta did not care for roughhousing, but he LOVED exploring the outskirts of Rome when Pater and Mamma werent looking.

- He would, of course, bring Caracalla with him on these little adventures, but he usually had to be the cautious one since Caracalla would frequently stray too close to something dangerous.

- Speaking of Pater, they would frequently avoid their father, Emperor Septimius, to the best of their ability. He was scary, mean, and had a temper that would rival mars’ if the twins so much as looked weak.

- Geta was frequently name called “Maculosus” by his peers, as it wasn’t uncommon for him to be riddled with bruises on his arms and chest.

- These bruises are large, not made by tiny fists. It was very clear to those that saw his bruises that they weren’t made by his twin.

- The earliest these marks appeared on Geta and his twin were the age of 9.

- The Praetorian saw these bruises, time after time without fail. They did not like it. Not one bit.

- Anyway! Geta and Caracalla were uneducated in arts, sciences and mathematics. Very strange for up and coming rulers. Mamma and Pater were very neglectful in this aspect (as well as many others).

- Geta and Caracalla grew up longing and seeking for relationships that would fill their mommy issues specifically. (you can see why none of them worked out). They both use indulgence as a way to cope.

- His favorite animals are lions, all big cats (known to Roman knowledge), really.

- He has a “pet” lion named Mel. Mel is an undefeated champion in the Colosseum. He’s constantly pampered and overfed. Kinda chunky but that’s how Geta likes him. Sometimes, when Caracalla allows it, Mel gets to sleep in their room.

- Geta was a peanut allergy kid but grew out of it.

Caracalla 𓃸

- oh the angst on THIS one.

- favorite animals are monkeys and apes. Hence, Dondas.

- neurodivergent

- Dondas was given to Caracalla at the age of 15 and has stuck with Caracalla his whole life.

- Dondas is a comfort creature for Caracalla. She can tell when Caracalla is entering or is in one of his episodes and her presence alone is enough to comfort her hurting owner.

- Caracalla feels immensely guilty and angry towards Geta for his sacrifices. Geta, almost every time their Pater entered one of his rampages, took the hits meant for him (this is canon so not really a headcanon but still)

- Caracalla feels like he owes Geta something and he hates it. Many times he wishes it was him that took the blows, not Geta.

- Due to the pressures of the time, being protected in such a way instead of receiving the strikes himself made him feel “less manly” and weaker than his brother. He came to resent Geta instead of their abusive father.

- if I didn’t list stockholm syndrome before—the stockholm syndrome on this one somebody help him

- To protect himself, Caracalla’s mind has completely forgot all of his childhood (except the beatings and the—albeit rare—good times. This led him associating the good times with the beatings, that they must have done something bad to deserve “discipline”. That their Pater was very loving and cared for them deeply. )

- He developed syphilis at the age of 18 and dimentia two years later.

- He started suffering from lead poisoning at the age of 22.

- He has frequent visits with the medicus and healers. They tended to feel like family the more he went. They genuinely cared about his wellbeing, how strange. This was nice.

- His favorite food is anything from the sea. Snapper, grouper, flounder, if it swims it’s fair game. He also loves shellfish! He has had every type Rome could offer,, except for shrimp, which he has an allergy to. He will refuse to eat anything raw, however. Not for safety precautions—he couldn’t care less—it’s just gross to him.

- Yes, he shares his seafood with Dondas.

- Caracalla takes very good care of his hair! He spends 30 minutes every day preening it. Unfortunately, his efforts are to no avail when it comes to bed heads. He wakes up? Every effort wasted. But at least his bed head is fluffy and not at all crusty. Think highland cow.

- Another insecurity? Acne. He’s extremely insecure about it and hates the way it looks and feels. It hurts sometimes.

- He’s had acne his whole adult life, it just won’t go away.

- Back to his hair, like Geta, he’s insecure about its color. Even when many women have insisted that they thought it was gorgeous, with its red and gold hues, he still didn’t feel any better about it.

- Caracalla and his brother like to wear extravagant and expensive clothing to distract from the hair. They often wear their laurels for the same purpose (also they just think it looks awesome—it does).

- On a side note, Caracalla and Geta are terrified of the Praetorian. Yes, their very sworn protectors that are here only to serve them. The guard does a pretty good job, and the twin emperors have used them when necessary (for example when they almost got shot by a stray arrow)! But they both just cant shake the feeling that the Praetorian have it out for them (they do not). Though they would never admit it, the two see themselves as some of the worst emperors Rome has seen (the worst they’ve done is spend millions in tax payer money to fund for their Golden Parties and daily extravaganzas, not to forget the gladiator fights), and the Praetorian are notorious for taking out such emperors.

- They’re literally not that bad, there have been LEAGUES worse than them.

- Caracalla often has staring contests with random Praetorians to like? assert dominance I guess? A sort of “hey!! Im not afraid of you!! yes I am someone hold me.” The guards dont get scared by it they just get immensely concerned and confused as to why one of their emperors is death staring them into oblivion. It actually freaks them out so I guess the staring works.?

- As you can see the two have major paranoia issues.

- He commissioned a local carpenter to make Dondas a mini palace. Yes, he paid with tax money 💀

- He wishes he could spend more time with Geta. He’s usually out partying and indulging, but Medicus’ orders have put a restriction on him recently.

- He has night terrors often, one specific night terror involved him slitting his brother’s neck with the help of a certain Macrinus. (STOP LET ME HAVE THIS IT WAS JUST A DREAM CARACALLA KILLED GETA IN A DREAM THERE IS NO SEVERED HEAD SHUT UP SHUT UP Cries Sobs Vomits Throws Up Pees My Pants)

- Caracalla wants a mom

- Caracalla can sing very well! It’s a talent that very few know of—even his brother doesn’t know

- Impatient with himself and others

- Was accused of being the murderer of his father (he is not and actually heard his father’s dying cries at the age of 16, he was a floor above the murder. He was heavily affected by said murder. Geta was not.)

- Deep fear of dogs and anything resembling canidae features. He tried to order the removal of any and all Capitoline Wolf statues but was denied due to it being an integral part of Roman culture.

- The two above are related

[littlelewdmable]

Jaune The Ginger Whisperer Part 16: Dirty Movie Night

Jaune: Okay, team movie night.

Nora: What movie are we watching?

Ruby: Terminator 2.

Nora: Huh, not what I was expecting.

Pyrrha: I've never had a movie night with friends before.

Jaune: I used to with my sisters from time to time.

Nora: You know what's my favorite part of movie night?

Jaune: The snacks?

Nora: A close second, but my favorite is *Sits on Jaune's lap* Sitting on Jaune's lap!

Pyrrha: Oh, I might have to try that next time.

Ruby: Me too!

Nora: *Not even trying to hide the fact she's just straight up grinding her ass on Jaune's cock* It's the best.

Jaune: ...This is going to be a long movie.

[notmaplemable]

New Upload Schedule

Not for here, just for the long fics.

I'm moving to a new schedule for uploads, in that I'll actually have a schedule. Though it will be a fairly soft one for now. So I might be a day or two late for a chapter.

Arc-Noire - Every fourth week - Next chapter: May 13th

Ghosts of Summer - Every second week - Next chapter: May 20th

Ginger Whisperer - Every fourth week - Next chapter: May 27th

[howlingday]

Ginger whisperer au. This whole thing has been a wonderful mix of wholesome, funny and sexy and is currently the highlight of my days. Wonderful work!

Thank you! It's great to receive feedback for all of our hard work! I hope we can keep entertaining you for many more stories to come!

Ginger Whisperer AU is a RWBY AU made by @littlelewdmable and @notmaplemable

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there!

I was wondering if you had any recommendations of fics that have Aziraphale as a priest? i’m in search of some but have no idea how to find them.

only ask is that it’s 3k words and up!

Thanks so much for all you do, you are truly the foundation holding the fanfiction side of Good Omens together!

lots of love x

Hello! We have #priest Aziraphale & #priests au tags. And of course there is the priest Aziraphale tag on AO3. Here are more to add to our collection...

All The Lights That Light The Way by FeralTuxedo (E)

On the run from a disastrous work Christmas party, Anthony Crowley encounters an angel singing in the streets of Soho.

& Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Of Which The First Is Love) by ineffable_angle (M)

Fleabag-inspired AU where anthropologist Dr. Anthony J Crowley becomes friends (and then definitely more) with the hot priest Father Aziraphale Moore. They meet at their high school reunion and discover that they just can't quite stay away from one another. Mainly, they debate evolution, go to brunch, and overcome Anthony's religious trauma. Some scenes and dialogue from season 2 of Fleabag do show up, but the plot is not the exact same.

The scent of incense on his fingers by gimmewhiskey (E)

Crowley knew what was twirling on Aziraphale's tongue. “Don't even think about saying you forgive me," he whispered, then turned and strode quickly to the door. Aziraphale stared after him for a few moments longer. He slowly raised his hand and touched his lips. There was a scent of incense on his fingers. ...Or the story of how a successful lawyer Anthony J. Crowley successfully pretends to forget his old love while Father Aziraphale atones for sins for them both.

(Let's) Do it again by gagna_onni (M)

Father Fell has lived his whole life in a small town in Wales. His life is simple, the community is kind and welcoming and he does all he can to help everyone. One day a guest arrives at his clergy house. And right after his arrival, things start to change in an unexpected way.

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Faith, Hope, and Love (And the Greatest of These Is Love) by khh1961 (E)

A young Father Aziraphale Fell takes up his first post as a junior priest, under the stern supervision of Monsignor Gabriel (who very much likes things to run his way, thank you kindly) and meets fellow parish priest, Father Anthony Crowley. Our young Father Fell is immediately captivated by Father Crowley's handsome face, ginger hair, and dead sexy Scottish accent. This looks to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But what else it may become remains to be seen. Love and the will of God are both ineffable.

- Mod D

[urfavlarry]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN LETS GOO!

I just have this crazy idea which is kinda cringy but can you do a soulmate au with tyler where the last thing your soulmate says to you is written on your wrist, but it changes when they are in the phantom realm and then tyler dies, or something like that

i know it sounds stupid but thanks if you decide to do it ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

Meant to be part I.

Tyler Hernández x reader

warnings: swearing, bad grammar

genre: fluff

A/N: soo about the thing your soulmate says to you is on your wrist.. I made it so it’s the sentance your soulmate WILL say to you.. like the thing that is written on your wrist will happen in the future yk ?? like you have it ever since you were born and it dissapears when you meet your soulmate and they say the sentance to you! hope thats not confusing lmao

A/N 2.0: FUCKING HELL I JUST REALISED I MESSED THE WHOLE REQUEST UP OMG GIRLLL.. nah I’m so sorry but in the part two ill make it that in the phantom dimension its the opposite of the real world, you have your soulmates last words on your wrist so bare with me here okay

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🥀 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“She’s probably the one that played that stupid prank on us.”

That was the sentance written on your wrist for about 16 years. You have no idea what it means since you weren’t the type to prank people since you thought those kinds of things were stupid and childish. You walk through the streets of Savannah, staring down at your phone. You were in Savannah for a school trip, another school coming along with you for 2 days. While you were lost in thought you feel someone crashing into you. Groaning, you put a hand on your head since they kind of hit you in the head pretty bad. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” A girl with short black hair and tattoos says to you, quickly getting up and looks you up and down; “Maybe as a sorry I could give you a tour of the Sorrel Weed house?” She says and eagerly waits for your answer; “A group cancelled on me so I have some free tickets left?” You look down at your phone, seeing that you still have about an hour left before having to go back to meet up with your class. “I um, sure? I have time.” She smiles and hands you one ticket and drags you to what looks like a very, very old house. She tells you to look around for a bit and that she will be back with some more people in a few minutes and to not touch anything.

A few minutes pass and she comes back with a group you noticed when you were walking to your room at the motel. You notice a boy with dark red hair and a girl, who is most likely his twin look at you. The girl smiled at you so you did so as well to not seem rude, but the boy just.. glared?? You shrugged it off and admired the old architecture of the house. It was a cozy but creepy looking house, it had some hidden details you wondered about. You liked imagining about what kind of memories the people that lived here had. Maybe they were a noble family that were secretely some sort of criminals? Or maybe it was a big family that struggled to keep themselves on their feet? You follow the others as the black haired girl, whos name you couldn’t remember lead you into an eerie looking room. You get chills down your spine and put on your hoodie, a really evident drop in temperature being in the room.

A phone ringing echoed through the room, the black haired girl excusing herself and left the room in a hurry. You eye the group who were whispering something to each other, the boy from earlier still eyeing you as you were some sort of pray. You hear the ginger girl talk about some sort of sensitivity to sound, the blonde boy and the grumpy one were fascinated by it. You walk past them and turn towards them, eyeing them from behind. You notice a strange figure behind the ginger girl, getting creeped out you gasp, alerting the others as well. “Ashlyn.. Behind you.” A boy with glasses says and you shiver, your whole body tensing up.

The girl flinched and falls to the ground, the mysterious figure disappearing in a heart beat. “What was that thing?” “A ghost maybe?” The blonde boy says as if this whole encounter was the most hilarious thing ever. The brunette boy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah as if, ghosts aren’t real.” He looks towards you and his brows furrow. He steps closer to you and pushes you towards the group. You stumble back, tripping on your feet but catch yourself before you could fall on your ass. “Rude much..” You mumble but immediately shut up when you see his pissed face.

“She’s probably the one that played that stupid prank on us.”

Your face goes pale, a tingly feeling welling up in your arm. He was your soulmate. You don’t say anything and just push past them. leaving the creepy house and hurry back to meet with your class. You were quiet the whole time at your hotel room, your roommates doing their own thing as you just layed there on your bed. It was about 11:43pm and you couldn’t get that boy off your mind. The other school, which they were from was just on the floor below yours. You wonder what your first words to him will be. You decide to go and speak to the ginger haired girl, thinking that she looked pretty nice you went downstairs and went to what you think was their room, at least that’s where you saw them enter. You knock on the door and pray for them to not be asleep when you hear the door open, and there she was. “Hey um, I was the one that was at that weird house with you guys.. I was wondering if we could um.. be friends?” You ask and mentally face palm at your shyness. She looks you up and down and yells some girls name. The girl, AKA the grumpy boys twin appears behind her and speaks up; “Hey! I remember you! You were with us at that house. Come in!” She says with a smile and you nod, walking in. “We were about to go to sleep but we could have a sleepover.” She says and you nod, introducing yourself; “Oh and by the way, I’m Y/N.” You say and they introduce themselves as Taylor and Ashlyn. You sit down on the floor and when you go and speak, your whole world goes black.

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A/N: haha bet you didn’t expect a cliffhanger !! I’ll make a part two soon so dw and make sure to take care of yourself guys~ :D