#hi! i haven't done this in ages so i have no idea how to tag things

[sanguineterrain]

crushin' | jason todd

Summary: Barbara invites you to dinner with the Bats. She's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the Bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. Little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: batfam shenanigans, dick is a good meddling brother and deserves a fruit basket, fluff and humor, kissing, crushes, love confessions. just wanted to write something sweet and light :)

the divider

"So you're gonna press this," Barbara says, demonstrating on her own screen.

You follow along, clicking and typing. She nods.

"Good. Then you're gonna do this."

You open the file. A video of what looks to be Bruce drunkenly hula-hooping pops up. Your eyes widen.

"And that's how you keep Bruce in check," Barbara says, patting your shoulder. "Use sparingly. Only when he's getting on your last nerve."

"Wow," you say. "Babs, I... I don't know if I should have this kind of power."

"No, it's cool. I have dirt on everyone in this family, so really, it's my power. You're the only one who gets to see the vault."

You look at her. "You scare me."

She grins. "Thanks! Anyway, you're free to go. They'll be back from the mission soon, so our job is pretty much over."

The computer beeps. She checks the notification and types back. Then she hums.

"Or, you can, y'know, join us for dinner. Alfred keeps wondering when you'll do so."

You press your lips together. "I dunno, Babs... are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"You're not. Seriously. And you know what I just found out? Jason will be here too."

Well. That does certainly stop your refusal in its tracks. You haven't seen Jason properly since he returned. You feel a pang of guilt at that; true, he's never at the Manor, at least not when you're around. But you could've reached out by now.

Still, being able to see him again properly is a wonderful opportunity. One you can't pass up.

"Okay," you say. "I'll join you all. As long as Alfred's okay with it."

She rolls her eyes, smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. C'mon."

You follow her to the elevator Bruce got installed for her. In the Manor, most of the family are sitting down to dinner. Damian and Cass are on one side of the table. Bruce is at the head. Alfred is still bustling in the kitchen.

You start to pull out the chair next to Cass, but Barbara startles you.

"That's Dick's chair!" She smiles sympathetically. "Sorry. He's particular. Isn't he, guys?"

"Yes," Cass says. "He's comfortable here."

"I've no idea what you're referring to, Gordon," says Damian. He nods at you. "Hello."

You smile. "Hey, Damian. That's fine. I'll sit next to you, Babs." You sit in the middle of three chairs, with Barbara on your right and an empty chair on your left.

"Hi, Cass. Hello, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," he reminds you. That's not happening. It feels way too weird to call him Bruce, even though you've known him since Jason was Robin. Just, no.

Cass smiles. "Hello. Glad to have you."

"Where's Tim and Duke?" you ask.

"Thomas is at university," Damian says. "Drake is probably with that idiot clone he calls a boyfriend."

Bruce looks up. "Tim and Connor are dating?"

"Good God," Barbara mumbles.

"Well, yes, Father. They've been dating for quite some time, even shared a room together. Last month, Drake went undercover in Atlantic City and the clone—"

"Old man! Where are you?"

"Jason, just—"

"Shut it, Dickhead."

The grandfather clock swings open, revealing the Cave entrance. Up stomps Jason, followed by Dick. Jason has a smear of purple goo on his forehead, but otherwise is clean. His back is to you.

Jason points an accusing gloved finger at Bruce. "You owe me a new bike, new guns, new gear, new phone, new—"

"Jason, slow down. Why exactly do I owe you new things?" Bruce asks.

"Because Tweedle-Dum here didn't scan the fuckin' spaceship that landed in Syracuse and melted my bike with purple goo!"

"It said it was empty," Dick says tiredly. "How was I supposed to know an abandoned ship would spit goo?"

"Okay, alright, boys, don't fight. Yes, Jason, I'll compensate everything you lost in Syracuse."

"Yeah, you will. And a new fridge." Jason thinks. "And a new TV."

"Master Jason," Alfred begins, walking into the dining room with a dish of roasted potatoes. "You may continue your bargaining with Master Bruce after dinner. Wipe that alien sludge off your face and have a seat."

Jason sighs. "Alf, I appreciate the invite, but you know I don't dine with most of the folks at this table. Gets real fuckin' crowded."

"Master Jason, watch your language," Alfred says sternly. "We have a guest. Behave like the young man I raised you to be."

Jason scoffs. "Who, Barbie? She doesn't—" He turns and stops, staring at you.

You smile, suddenly self-conscious. "Hi."

He swallows, eyes wide. "Hi. Hey."

"Aren't you staying for dinner?" you ask, confused. "Barbara said you were."

"I—" He glances at Barbara, then looks at you. "Uh. Well. I don't really..."

"C'mon, Jay, you guys should catch up!" Dick says brightly, already seated.

Jason's mouth sours as he turns to Dick. You pull out the chair next to you and tap the seat.

"You can sit next to me," you say, looking up at Jason.

He immediately turns back to you, lips parted. "Oh. I—y-yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Master Jason. The goo," Alfred reminds, raising a brow. "And hang up your jacket."

Jason quickly backs up and bumps into the table corner. He winces.

"Right. I'm gonna... yeah. Be right back."

Jason disappears down the hall. Dick grins wolfishly at Barbara.

"You're amazing," he says.

"I know," she says, shrugging.

Alfred serves the last tray of vegetables, then sits. Jason soon returns, gloves and jacket away and goo-free.

"Did you style your hair, Todd?" Damian asks.

"No. Shut it." Jason scoots in his chair, glaring at his brother. But when you pass him the tray of roast, his expression softens. He smiles at you.

"Thanks," he says, and puts three slices on his plate. "Great roast, Alf."

"You haven't tried it," Alfred says, but looks very pleased.

"Don't need to."

"We're very glad you're here, Jason," Bruce says. "All things considered—"

Jason holds up a hand. "Ah-ah. I'm not here for you, old man. Save the speech for another day."

"And who are you here for, Jason?" Dick asks, propping his chin on his hands.

"None of your beeswax, Dick."

Dick shrugs. Damian begins to talk about an art project in school. You pay the appropriate amount of attention until Jason nudges your arm.

"Hey," he says, nodding at your empty glass. "Didja get something to drink?"

"Oh." Heat creeps up your neck. "Um, no. Sorry. I didn't know where to get the drinks."

"'S okay. Alf doesn't put out drinks anymore 'cause everybody drinks something different. You just help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll get it for ya."

"Jason, you don't have to—"

He holds up a hand, smiling. "C'mon, none of that. You're a guest. Orange Fanta, right?"

You blink. "You remembered."

"Uh." His cheeks go pink. "I mean, yeah. No biggie. I'll be back."

Jason stands. Immediately, the others pounce.

"Are you going to the kitchen?" Dick asks.

"No," Jason says.

"Can you get me another Diet Coke?"

"Todd, if you're going to the kitchen, I would like another lemonade, please," Damian says.

"I just said I'm not going to the—"

"Master Jason, will you please bring this into the kitchen?" Alfred asks, holding up an empty tray.

Jason heaves a sigh. You wince.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He shakes his head and winks. "Nah, 's not you."

Obediently, Jason takes the tray and goes to the kitchen. He returns with a Diet Coke, which he tosses at Dick, who catches it with one hand, and a bottle of lemonade, which he throws to Damian who also catches it with one hand and a scowl. Finally, Jason opens the Orange Fanta for you and gently pours it into your glass, then sets the half-full can next to your plate. He sits down.

"Of course they get special treatment," Dick mumbles into his drink.

The table rattles, and Dick winces, squinting at Jason. The table rattles again, and Jason hisses.

"Boys," Bruce says wearily. "Enough."

"Yeah, Jason," Dick says, sticking his nose up. "Y'know it's my birthday soon. I deserve a brother who doesn't kick me."

"Oh, I'll tell ya what you deserve," Jason begins.

"Are we doing laser tag?" Cass pipes up from the end.

"'Course we are! Everybody's gonna be there." Dick looks pointedly at Jason. "Except my own brother. He refused."

You look at Jason, who's got a nasty glower aimed at Dick.

"You're not coming?" you ask.

Jason's expression melts away when he turns to you. "Uh, I mean—"

"No, he's not," Dick says, pulling the saddest pout you've ever seen. "He said he wanted nothing to do with my stupid birthday."

"Those weren't my exact words."

"They were very close," Damian says.

"Shut—"

"Jason, I can't believe you aren't going to Dick's birthday," Barbara says, shaking her head.

Jason's mouth falls open. "Et tu, Barbie?"

"You should come," you say, touching Jason's arm.

He immediately looks at your hand. You slowly remove it, smiling sheepishly.

"Then we can be a team," you say. "We're playing doubles. I'm horrendously bad at laser tag, but I bet we'd win together. I'd watch your six."

"Leaving them in the lurch, Jason?" Barbara tuts. "So unlike you."

Jason heaves a sigh. "For God—okay. Alright, brother mine. You win."

You beam. "So you'll come?"

"'Long as you and I are a team," Jason says, a little shy.

You bump his shoulder with yours. "Of course."

Dick looks at you. "You should join us for dinner every night."

You laugh bashfully. "Thanks, Dick."

Dinner goes on. Bruce excuses himself early, as do Cass and Damian. Soon, it's the four of you plus Alfred cleaning up after dinner. You and Jason are loading the dishwasher when Jason hisses. He pulls out his hand, revealing a thin red cut on his palm.

"Are you okay?" you ask, hovering worriedly.

"Yeah, 'm fine. I'll take the tray—"

"Jason, no," Dick says, herding him away from the dishwasher. "You have to get that wrapped immediately."

"What are you—dude, it's a tiny cut—"

"Yeah, but there was food on there, and you have no idea what can get into the wound and make you sick," Barbara says seriously. "You need to get it cleaned right now."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. There's a first aid kit in the closet."

"There isn't!" Dick says, shooing Jason toward you. "Alfred hasn't restocked it. You have to go to the Cave. You should both go."

"Yes, great idea," Barbara says, looking at you. "You have medical experience, don't you?"

"I mean, a little, but—"

"More than us!" Dick says, shoving you both towards the hallway.

"I don't think so..."

"You take care of Jaybird here, he needs that hand," Dick says cheerily, opening the Cave entrance. "Go on, go."

"Christ on a bike," Jason mumbles, and heads down the stairs.

You follow, confused and concerned. The entrance slides closed. Jason goes to the medbay, muttering under his breath as he digs through one of the drawers with one hand. You join him, searching the top drawer for the antiseptic spray.

"Is the cut really bad?" you ask, trying to get a better look.

"No. My brother's just an idiot. Nothin' new."

You pull out the spray, some gauze, and a bandaid. Jason nods in thanks and goes to take it.

"I can do it," you say. "I do have medical experience, after all."

He snorts. "Fine by me."

You both sit on the edge of a cot. You turn to Jason and pull his hand into your lap. He inhales sharply. You stop.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Sorry. I don't get touched a lot." Jason's mouth screws up. "Ugh. That sounded weird."

You laugh. "It's fine, I know what you meant."

He scratches the back of his neck while you clean his hand. He has big hands. Bigger than you remember. They're deeply scarred and calloused. You rub your thumbs over the pads of his fingers without thinking.

"You got soft hands," Jason says quietly.

"Heh. Thanks. The computer life."

He hums. "I didn't know you were working with Babs."

The guilt swims back full force.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've reached out, Jason. I-I basically ignored you. Not on purpose! I just... I guess I wasn't sure where we stood and I thought maybe you'd be mad I was working for Batman after everything and I was afraid that we wouldn't—"

"Hey, whoa. 'M not mad." Jason finds your gaze. You frown. "I'm serious. I don't mind that you're working for Bruce. I mean, hell, I do too, on occasion. Mostly I just bitch at him."

You giggle. He smiles. You're still holding his hand. You don't really want to let go. Jason doesn't seem to want to pull away either.

"Well, even so, I'm sorry for not reaching out. I did miss you, Jason. And I'm glad you're back."

He clears his throat, ducking his head. "Huh. Well, I missed you too. And y'got nothin' to apologize for. I could've asked about you."

"Well—"

"Uh-uh, no, I'm the king of self-deprication. Y'can't take that from me," Jason says, eyes dancing with mirth.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, fine. Can we say that we both could've reached out?"

"That's agreeable. And, uh, while we're clearing the air, I'm so terribly sorry 'bout my dumbass brother."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, huh. Hm. Well, funny thing. I kinda had a, um, crush on you, before. And Dick has it in his head that I... that I have a chance now. So... yeah."

"Before?" you ask.

You don't know why you're disappointed. It's not like you knew. Except maybe if you had, you wouldn't have missed out. Maybe you wouldn't have lost so much time.

Jason glances at you. "What... why are you sayin' it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wish... that I..." He shakes his head. "Forget it."

"Jason," you say, barely a whisper.

He looks at you. His eyes flick to your lips, just for a millisecond. "Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

A beat. Your heart falls.

"Yeah." Jason nods. "Yeah, kiss me."

You heart soars.

You hold Jason's face, still holding his hand. He gingerly touches your neck with his uninjured hand, strokes behind your ear with his thumb. Every nerve alights. You're kissing Jason Todd. The boy you've loved since you were thirteen.

"They did it! They're kissing!"

Jason growls against your mouth. You know it's not aimed at you, but it makes lightning shoot down your spine. Wow.

"'M gonna kill 'im," Jason mumbles.

You smile and pull back, just an inch. "It's nearly his birthday. At least wait till next week."

"Hm." Jason kisses the corner of your mouth. You like him so much. "Fine. Y'know you can convince me of pretty much anything? Wield that power carefully."

You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason braces you with a hand on the small of your back.

"I'm very flattered, but I think you're confused, Jay." A kiss to his jaw. "It's you who has a hold on me."

[ihaznoclue]

I'm so nervous about making this request. Could I request Bumblebee, Knockout, and Optimus Prime with a reader who's a technical expert? Reader is skilled at building, handling and fixing all kinds of machinery, technology, gadgets, and gizmos.

Pairings -> Bumblebee, Knockout, Optimus Prime X Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader is an expert and skilled on building, handling and fixing machinery, technology, gadget and gizmos (Also in this you can understand bee)

Genre -> Fluff

Bumblebee

You were sort of like Raf a technical expert but with machinery and fixing some gadgets and other stuff that you could easily fix in no time

You were quite the expert in fixing stuff other than Ratchet

You could easily fix on of the autobot's weapons if you could but that could take a while but at least you were helping

Now you wanted to try something in order to fix Bumblebee's t-cog that got damaged

The scout felt helpless in battle since he couldn't really transform into his alt mode or deploy his weapons to shoot down the Cons

So you wanted to help and you did but it did take a while to fix since it was quite big

So you spent all night to fix his t-cog instead of Ratchet transferring his

Now it was morning as you haven't slept at all, everyone was now awake as everyone went to do their business

Bee on the other hand questioned on why you looked so tired

You told him that you were fine and that he should look at his t-cog

He was confused so he went over to find his t-cog fixed

He told Ratchet as ratchet was amazed by how perfect the t-cog was back in shape

Bee wanted to thank you but saw you asleep on the couch about to fall so he took you to his berth to rest

Bee was grateful to have his t-cog back and it was all thanks to you

Knockout

Since you are quite good at fixing and building stuff back together

Let's just say Knockout came back with no car door on his arm which got you confused until he ranted on how Optimus just snatched his door off

So you had no trouble on fixing it for him even if it did take a while to fix since well he was bigger and taller than you but you managed

He was grateful to have someone like you on the team

You were great at fixing, building and handling all the weapons and tools of his

He is also grateful of how carefully and gentle you were even though you were more fragile than him alone

But he knew you were careful since you knew he didn't want his paint scratched or anything other than that

But knockout would always come to you if he was scratched, destroyed or simply broken on one of his limbs

He just knows your the right person to go to

Optimus Prime

You were quite good with technology like Raf

But you were quite the expert

You would always be there if there was a problem with the technology at the base

Of Ratchet would try to fix it by simply kicking it to see if that helps but its still funny to see

Right now you were in the base with only Optimus and Ratchet as the other were on a mission and suddenly the kids again seemed to tag along (It was Mikos idea)

So right now the ground bridge is broken as well as the commination link

Luckily for them, you were at the base to help with the problem

It did take you a while and you hoped the others could hang on for a bit more

Optimus was intrigued as you were working on the ground bridge, it had seemed you already knew what to do

Optimus was quite interested on how well you knew technology and you know what to do with the ground bridge that Ratchet build ages ago

Once you were done, Optimus then linked to the others as voices went though the comm link

Seeming that you fixed both the communication link and the ground bridge

Optimus told you that you did a good job on handling that on your own

Which made you feel proud

-A<3

[illumnis]

finish line. — you and alhaitham are not friends, far from it. you're not exactly lovers either; so why does he decide to take ten steps back and settle for aquaintances?

pairing: alhaitham x gn!reader

warnings: kinda toxic? idk to each and their own, he's just really emotionally ignorant, mentions of non-sexual nudity, angst, unedited

note: look what i'm back with (i am so sorry this is bad,,, i haven't written in AGES), also happy summer i am officially not a highschooler anymore!

alhaitham is efficient. he decides what is considered more work than necessary and greatly succeeds with the basic necessities. this also means that alhaitham has every intention to finish what he starts and only starts what he knows he can finish.

alhaitham also holds your hand so you can fall asleep at night despite the nightmares that plague your imagination, but he leaves before you can wake up. alhaitham helps you scrub away the finely ground sand off of your sweaty body after a research project done on the dunes residing in the sumerian desert, even allowing you to do the same to him, but he always rejects your offer to cook him dinner afterwards in celebration of the grueling excursion. alhaitham whispers how you're devastatingly beautiful as he washes your hair without care if you hear him or not, but he can't bring himself to help you dry it.

for once in his life, alhaitham has started something he can't bring himself to finish.

he wonders why you're bitter all of a sudden. how you can't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes anymore, how you walk a step behind him instead of a linked pace, how you don't let him touch your hair anymore, how you don't invite him over or ask if you can tag along on his journeys to the desert.

you're avoiding him and he blames his irritation on the fact that friends aren't supposed to brush each other off.

you're not entirely sure when the two of you started treading the line between acceptable and having alhaitham push you away, but the unspoken agreement was that this was all it was going to be. you're not like alhaitham. often times, you walk the world on your terms, which must be why you now found yourself on the opposing side of the agreement.

who can blame you? he's seen you, flesh and bone. under your clothes and to your heart. he's seen you, your rampant imagination, both the good and the bad parts. he's seen you most vulnerable, stating that even this side of you is worth adoring.

the waiting game was a exhausting one, even before, you knew he'd be the last person to bring your... situation with him up; which is why you settle for slowly stretching the strings of your relationship until they snap, and you never have to look back.

or that was at least the idea until you were crying behind the akademiya over an offhanded comment that your least favourite professor had made about you. he was there, somehow he always is, and he was holding you. his warmth was the same as it had been since you had last invited him over, which only made you cry more. had your absence not frosted his heart over at least a little?

by the time you're done crying, you are no longer in his arms and he looks at you with a mixture of hurt and comfort. something vengeful in you is satisfied that you have given him a taste of how he leaves you.

"i'll always be here when you need me, yn, regardless of if you choose to stop being acquainted with me or not."

somehow, his reassuring words do the opposite and the vengeful spirit in you grows.

"then why can't you let me need you all the time? what's stopping you from letting us rely on each other? it's not like you act like we don't already."

this seals his lips and a subtle frown paints itself over his them and something inside you aches. you have always prided yourself in being able to bring the most emotion out of him that anyone has in years. now, you are stuck with pitiful expressions; frowns nonetheless.

it's a heavy silence that takes over the atmosphere before you've decided that whether you hear his answer or not, you'll still hear your glass heart shatter. so you move to get up.

"i can't take the risk. not yet." it flows out of his mouth so naturally. almost like he's been waiting for your confrontation.

"risk? what risk, alhaitham? look at what you've started, you've already taken it," you're fuming, a new level of self-loathing filling your being at the idea of you being so naive to believe that someone who can't even call you a friend could be full of love, "either finish what you've started, or destroy it before you lose yourself in it."

alhaitham's silence elicits a scoff from your lips and you're grateful you had shaken yourself out of his touch earlier, or else you'd find yourself back at square one; forgiving him and asking once more if he'd let you make him dinner hoping his answer would be different.

you'll help him out one last time, you guess. walking away as he doesn’t spare you a glance, stuck in the position that was meant to comfort you, only for it to end whatever mess he had started.

navi. mlist.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 7

AN: Shoutout to that one time Elv and I spoke about Mingyu wearing lace panties months ago. It was a big inspiration for this, and it's been rotating in my brain since then.

Synopsis: After a lot of encouragement and motivation from you, Mingyu finally tries out something in your bedroom that he's been curious about for some time now.

General tags and warnings: Kim Mingyu x Fem! Reader, established relationship and that's it honestly lol. This is very much pwp.

Primary kink: Crossdressing.

Smut tags and warnings: Dom leaning! Reader, sub leaning! Mingyu, Mingyu in feminine lingerie, nipple play (m. and f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, Reader cries very briefly due to being overwhelmed, dirty talk, some praise, hints of a size and a strength kink, brief manhandling and creampie.

Word count: 2.5k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

To say you're excited would be a gross understatement.

Exhilaration would probably be the best way to describe what you're feeling and even it doesn't adequately convey the feeling of your heart thundering in your chest and your blood simmering in your veins.

“Gyu, are you done?” You call out to your boyfriend. Hoping you don't sound too antsy or impatient. His comfort means more to you than anything else and you'd gladly wait as long as it takes for him.

“Y-Yeah um I'm coming out now,” comes his timid response. Before you can reassure him that he can take his time, he steps out of your shared bathroom. Stopping all of the air in your lungs and causing your heart to leap all the way up to your throat.

Mingyu is a gorgeous man. It still boggles your mind a little that he's a real person who exists. He looks beautiful no matter what but, now? With the lingerie the two of you spent hours agonising over adorning his massive frame? You don't think you've ever been more attracted to him in your entire life.

“Gyu,” you whisper, scanning his entire body from head to toe just to commit every detail to memory, “you look beautiful.”

The blush that colours his cheeks somehow makes him look even more gorgeous and you really don't think you can handle not touching him any longer.

“Come here, baby,” you command softly, shuffling backwards onto your shared bed. Desire coiling in the pit of your stomach as he follows you without any more prompting. The lace stretching across his large frame with every movement he makes.

You knew pink would be his colour.

Despite the embarrassment you could feel radiating from him earlier, Mingyu lets you kiss him easily. Melting against your mouth within seconds while you spread your thighs for him to make himself at home between. His large hands already desperately clutching your waist as your tongue snakes its way into his mouth. Commiting the taste of him to memory like you haven't kissed him hundreds of thousands of times before.

“My pretty boy. You look so gorgeous,” you mutter against his lips. Giggling into him when he flinches and hisses in slight pain after you snap his bra against his skin. Always so responsive. Any reply to your words is cut short by quiet gasps when you kiss along his jaw and throat. Licking and biting at every bit of skin you can.

You can feel yourself growing wetter with every whimper he lets out and shudder of him beneath your touch. It's all made worse by the hardness you can start to feel pressing against your bare slit.

An idea springs to mind and you grin wolfishly into his throat before using momentum to roll him onto his back. He blinks up at you. You'd take a few minutes to simply appreciate how endearing he looks under the lowlight of your bedroom but, you're a woman on a mission.

Mingyu moans into your mouth when your hands shove up the bra that stretches across his muscular chest. His hips bucking up into you when you palm his pecs greedily. Smiling against his lips when he shivers as your fingers lightly brush over his nipples. Mingyu's sensitivity has always been a fascination of yours. Even after being together for so many years, he's still so responsive to even your faintest touches.

You bite down on his plump lips in time with your fingers tugging on his nipples and his reaction is immediate. His hands jump from where they were fisting your sheets to gripping your thighs. Digging into their thickest parts while your fingers continue to toy with his sensitive nipples and you teasingly nip at his lip until it starts to bruise.

He whines once you separate from his lips but you soothe him with a few kisses along his jaw and neck. Determined not to get distracted this time, you continue your descent until your lips come in contact with the lace of his bra. Your clit pulses when you glance up only to find his eyes staring at you with enough intensity to stop your heart briefly. Maintaining eye contact, you kiss your way to one of his nipples.

Mingyu is the first one to look away.

His eyes flutter shut when you envelope his nipple in your mouth while your fingers continue to tug and pinch his other nipple. God, everything about him tastes delicious. Maybe you're biased. Maybe you're too far gone for him but, you're convinced Mingyu was made to melt in your mouth. Every part of him.

Based on the way he squirms underneath you and grinds his large cock against you in search of any kind of friction, you think he agrees. Your body moves against his without much input from your brain. Grinding onto him to help ease some of the dull throbbing at the apex of your thighs. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you drink in every minute shift in his expression. Especially when you swap over to his other nipple and give it the same treatment.

A strangled curse is punched from the depths of his chest when you run your teeth along his nipple. His hands shifting from your thighs to your ass. Clutching at you in an attempt to ground himself but, also to press you down onto his length. You can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he clumsily bumps against your clit. The stimulation causing electricity to fire all along your spine.

Briefly, you allow yourself to get lost in the frenzied grinding and continue to lavish his chest with bites and sucks while your hands palm at him. His breathy whimpers and moans shoot straight to your already throbbing clit and you can feel yourself growing impatient. As much as you're enjoying having your mouth on his beautiful chest, you have another goal in mind. So, with a great deal of strength, you continue your descent down his body. Kissing down his stomach and smiling when he flinches away when you brush against a spot that's ticklish for him.

It's pavlovian the way spit starts to pool in your mouth when you reach the waistband of his panties. They looked phenomenal on him already but, with his big cock straining against the translucent lace, he looks absolutely filthy. You make a note to ask him later if he'd let you take pictures of him in this set. Or any other sets you can convince him to try on. Mingyu props himself up on his arms to watch you as you mouth at him through the fabric. Dark eyes committing every detail of this scene to memory while his thoroughly kissed lips part.

“Fuck, baby I– your mouth feels so good,” he groans, his jaw clenching when you lick his tip through the fabric. You're sure his panties are ruined now with a mix of his pre-cum and your copious amounts of spit but, you couldn't care less. You'll buy all the panties in the world for him if it means having him like this. Having teased him and yourself enough, you tug them off of him. Mingyu lifts his hips readily, just as ready as you are for whatever you're planning to give him. The panties rest just above where his stockings start and the sight of that sends one of your hands in-between your sticky thighs. Your fingers pressing into your clit in time with your other hand grasping his thick cock. Fuck. To think when you two started dating his cock used to intimidate you. Now you can't imagine anything except excitement coursing through your veins at the sight of it.

Your fingers rub circles into your clit at the same pace as your hand strokes him. It's not nearly enough for him based on his frustrated whines and jerky thrusts of his hips into your hold but, you haven't quite had your fun yet. Picking up your pace marginally, you choose then to take his tip into your mouth. Moaning around him at the taste that hits your tongue. It's so Mingyu and your fingers pick up their pace as well. You could spend hours sucking him off if he'd let you. The weight and taste of him in your mouth always makes your brain so fuzzy.

A choked whimper of your name leaves his lips as you sink further down on him. The gagging sound of him hitting the back of your throat forces a guttural sound from him and his fingers weave themselves into your hair. Mingyu, ever the sweetheart, doesn't push you further down onto him. If anything, he uses his hold on you to ground himself as you move up and down on him. It's messy and dirty and you're pretty sure your jaw is going to ache like hell tomorrow but, it's all worth it.

He shallowly thrusts into your mouth and fist, high-pitched apologies spilling from his lips every time you accidentally choke around him. You want to tell him it's fine. That you don't mind in the slightest. However, you don't think it's worth it to detach yourself from him. So, you hope your watery eyes communicate enough.

The emptiness is starting to hurt so, you push three of your fingers into your dripping entrance. They don't provide nearly enough of a stretch, especially compared to Mingyu's fingers and cock but, it'll have to do for now. It's much better than being completely empty and the stretch your fingers provide makes you moan around him. Your pace falters momentarily while you savour the sensation of your fingers and grind your clit down onto the heel of your palm. Mingyu happily picks up your slack. Fucking your mouth faster while he throws himself back into the mountain of pillows he's resting on.

You can read Mingyu like the back of your hand. Actually, you're certain you know him better than the back of your hand. When his cock starts throbbing more incessantly and his thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier, you know he's getting close.

So, you tighten your grip on the base of his cock and remove your mouth from him. His eyes are wide, watery and wild when they meet yours. You would laugh at the pout on his handsome face if you weren't too busy catching your breath and dealing with the slight sting settling in the back of your throat. Once your lungs have greedily inhaled as much air as they can, you crawl your way up his body and slot your mouth against his. Mingyu groans into you, tasting himself on your tongue while you drag your dripping folds along his bare cock.

“Gyu,” you moan into his mouth, “I want you to be a good boy and fuck m–” before you can finish your sentence, you find yourself on your back with your boyfriend towering over you. His large hands drag you in place until he's between your thighs. His eyes never leave your face. Zeroing in on every shift in your expression as he starts to push himself into you. Even after all these years, you can't help the way your fingers claw at his muscular back and your lips part readily when he sinks into you.

He leans down to kiss you, pressing his own sounds of pleasure into you until he's completely inside of you. “Gyu fuck you feel so good,” you moan into his mouth, desire clawing at your insides with every pulse of his massive cock and his hands spanning themselves along your hips. “Always make me feel so full,” you whimper, tears rolling down your face at the sheer intensity you're feeling. A sound from somewhere deep in his chest is ripped from him and he snaps his hips into you harshly. Starting a punishing pace while his hands tug your gown up to collarbones so he can kiss and lick your breasts. Giving you a taste of your own medicine as the obscene noises of his cock splitting you open ring in your ears.

“So pretty. So beautiful. Feel so tight and wet around my dick. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he babbles into your spit smeared skin. Using his strength to his advantage to keep you pressed exactly where he wants you. The juxtaposition of this large, ridiculously strong man who you're head over heels in love with dressed up in one of the most delicate sets you've ever seen makes your head spin. The thought is enough to cause your hand to weasel its way between your two, sweat drenched, overheated bodies until your fingers find your swollen clit again.

Mingyu mutters a string of curses into your breasts when he feels the way your pussy grips him like a vice. Pulling away from you just so that he can see the way you bring yourself closer to the edge. Thoroughly kissed lips parted with your barely open eyes glossy with desire. Despite the way his balls seize at the sight, he's determined for you to cum first. He won't let himself go any other way.

So, he exploits a few weaknesses he's picked up on over the years.

A startled gasp flies from your lips when Mingyu uses his strength to shove your legs into your chest. You can already feel the angle starting to cause a burn to settle into your thighs. But fuck, does it push him impossibly deeper into you. Between that and his canines digging into your neck, it's only a matter of time until your vision blurs and your entire body free falls underneath him.

Mingyu fucks you through it all. Drawing out your climax with strokes that aren't nearly as quick but haven't dropped an ounce in intensity. All you can do is lie there and take it. Clenching and unclenching your sheets between your sweaty fists as your thighs shake underneath his somehow steady hold. You're too far gone to make out exactly what comes out of your mouth but, apparently it's enough for Mingyu to shove his face in the hollow between your neck and your shoulder and cum inside of you.

His hoarse whimpers and groans of your name unintentionally cause your walls to clamp down on him further. It's not like you can help it. How are you not going to react to your beautiful boyfriend saying your name like that while also cumming inside of you? You're only human after all.

His hold on you loosens after some time and you feel him sag against you. His cock softens inside of you but Mingyu is in no hurry to move. Humming in appreciation when your fingers toy with his hair and pressing kisses into your shoulder.

“Gyu, I love you and all but, my thighs hurt,” you say with a laugh, giggling when he profusely apologises and removes your legs from where they were pressed into your chest. Resuming his position on top of you like you're his own personal body pillow.

You know you need to get up and clean yourselves up but, you're happy to lie here and bask in his affection for just a bit longer.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

[arthenaa]

Requesting angsty moment with Ominis x f!reader that takes place after what happens with Sebastian and Solomon where Ominis and reader are distraught and guilty and angry but they end up having passionate sex bc they just need to be close to each other so badly in the midst of everything they lost

my saving grace — ominis x f!reader

summary: It happened. Sebastian has completely lost himself and you and Ominis have no idea how to deal with the repercussions. You fear that it will only take just enough for the both of you to lose yourselves but then you remember that the fact that you haven't is because you both still have each other.

content tags: 18+, explicit sexual content, characters are aged up and instead of the seb thing happening during their 5th year, it happens on their 7th, the reader uses she/her pronouns, angst, comfort, reader is ravenclaw, i havent reached this part of the game yet but i kinda know what happened but idk the details so it might be different from what actually happened in the game HAHA, you guys make love in seb's house, comfort sex, crying crying, self reflection, ominis is in love w you, p in v sex, cockwarming, heavy petting, foreplay, ominis fucks u while standing up and against the wall teehee, nasty stuff, you both miss sebastian, i am so sorry i love writing them as a poly relationship but i dont rlly imply anything of both of your relationships with seb, poor you and ominis :(( , kinda short tbh

Silence. Complete and utter silence.

It gives an unpleasant itch in your brain the longer you spend time in it. It's nothing like the ones you have with Poppy while tending to the beasts in class or the ones with Samantha in the comforts of the common room. Or maybe the ones you spend with Ominis and Sebastian in the undercroft.

Ominis and Sebastian.

Sebastian.

Right. That happened.

A few hours ago, you were in the Feldcroft catacombs, helping Sebastian in his quest to find a cure for Anne then next you're standing in shock as your very own best friend had cast an unforgivable on his uncle and he had chosen the worst out of the three. The Killing Curse.

It had happened all too fast. You barely caught a glimpse of the green ray of light heading toward Solomon. You watch as Anne fought off her twin, face filled with disgust and disbelief as she hauled her uncle's unmoving body from the floor. On her way out, she sent you a face of despair and desperation and you knew what she was telling you.

'Take care of him. For me.'

You're currently seated on the steps leading to the Sallow home. The silence was deafening not because of the night but because of the lack of people. No one was home.

You expected Anne to be here but she wasn't and you were close to ripping the strands of hair from your head because now you were worried for both twins. Sebastian was nowhere to be found after the whole fiasco. You remember the scared look on his face after he had done what he did, looking for some sort of semblance of comfort from you, that what he did was right and just because he was doing it for his sister. You thought maybe he had learned from the dangers of dark magic when you were in your 5th year but it seems as time passed, his quest for finding a cure for Anne overshadowed his morals as a person.

You let out a shakey sigh as you hug your legs closer to your chest. The cold breeze of the night provided some sort of comfort in the silence. Your chin rests on the top of your knees, observing the houses around you. It was close to midnight and so you suspected that the people inside were already in their slumber.

"It's late." A familiar voice breaks your reverie. You jump at the sudden presence before turning your head to the culprit.

"Ominis." You whisper, almost so quiet that Ominis barely hears it. The young Gaunt stands in the greenery surrounding the front yard of the Sallow home. You stare as he allows his wand to guide you to where you're seating and seats down beside you.

Somehow, the silence becomes tolerably better as you feel Ominis's warmth from your side. He bites his lip as he fiddles with his wand. "Did you find him?"

"No." You whisper back, eyes staring dead into the night. Another cold wind blows past you.

"Anne?"

"Nope." You could feel the tears start to well in your eyes, you try your best to hold them back. Ominis nods in understanding before he pulls his knees up and rests his hands, outstretched on his knees. His head drops as he lets out a sigh.

It's silent once again and then you finally realized why the silence feels too hard to bear. It's because this town that had always been too silent, always had comfort in it from the way Anne sips her morning herbal tea to Mr. Sallow grumbling as he yet again flips another coin into the well and of course, Sebastian; Sebastian who had both shown you the wonders of his tightly-knit hometown and welcomed you with open arms from when you were 5th years up until your 7th. Sebastian who had shown you Feldcroft's love for tranquility and comfort in silence. You had found yourself in a town— in a home with just the two of you.

Just you and Ominis.

The dam breaks out of nowhere and you could only prevent yourself from full-out bawling as the palm of your hands cover your mouth. Ominis is startled by the sudden sounds of your crying.

"I-I should've stopped him." You sobbed as your hands shake. It was quite muffled with the hindrance of the hands against your mouth but Ominis hears it nonetheless. The blonde only falls silent as he listens to your worries. "Way back then! I should've—"

"No, Y/N." Ominis gently intercepts as he tries to swallow a sudden lump in his throat, preventing the breakdown caused by the events that occurred a few hours ago. "You were just trying to help. I-I would've done it as well, had I been in your place. There was nothing we could do."

Ominis sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than you. You look at him with swollen eyes as the urge to bawl dwindled. You let out a shaky sigh once more as you try to calm yourself.

"All of this started because of me," Ominis whispers. You turn your head towards the young Gaunt in confusion. "I was the one who exposed him to the dark arts. He was a natural learner and when concepts and magic like this are exposed to a person like him, it's innate for Sebastian to know more. He loves Anne more than anything. I-I should've known better when I brought you both to the scriptorium a few years ago. I helped set up that situation for him. I helped him hurt Anne. I made him—"

He couldn't say the words but you knew what he was talking about. You scowl at his insinuation before grabbing his cheeks in your hands and facing them toward you. You could now see the tears silently running down his face. It had sounded like he was so composed but he was just as broken as you were.

"I miss him," Ominis whispers as you hold his face close to yours. Your lip wobbles as you lick your bottom lip to collect yourself.

"You need to listen to yourself, Ominis." You mumble as your thumbs brush against his cold cheeks. "There are a lot of things we don't understand today and most of them we may try to blame ourselves for it but never try to point the blame on something that Sebastian inflicted himself. He was perfectly aware of what this might lead to and he cast it with perfect intentions."

Ominis quietly sobs in your hands as you press your forehead against his. "I'm scared to think right now."

"Then don't." You whisper as your eyes focus on the trembling boy in front of you. "Just focus on me."

Ominis gulps as he tries to compose himself, letting out short breaths as he lifts his hands to feel the sides of your arms then your shoulders then your neck then your jaw then your cheeks. You softly smile as you allow yourself to be seen by Ominis. You bask in his touch before feeling his touch on your lips. Its gentle and faint. Your eyes glance down at his lips before looking up at his cloudy blue eyes.

He leans in hesitantly before placing a soft and tender kiss on your lips. It rests on yours for a couple of seconds before he gently pulls away. There's a moment of pause before he breaks the silence.

"Stay with me." He whispers. You admire his face for a bit as you lean back slightly. You know what he means as he intertwines his hands with yours. It almost makes you cry but you know you needed to both be strong for what's about to come and right now, all you needed was each other. You press your forehead against his to let him feel your nod.

"O-Ominis." You moan softly as the blonde buries his head on your neck. His hands pull you close against him as you seat on his lap. Your cloaks and coats are forgotten on the floor of the house as your bodies entangle with one another on one of the beds inside the Sallow home.

The moment the two of you entered the house, it was just a mess of limbs wanting to be close as they physically can to one another. You can't remember the moment Ominis pulled you into his lap and sucked the living daylights out of you but you can't complain with how good it felt.

"Fuck." Ominis curses as his hands move under your skirt to grip your ass against the fabric of your undergarments. You whimper as you move against the hardening bulge on his crotch. You wrap your arms around his neck as you place your forehead against his.

"Pretty." You whisper, smiling as you trace his features with your hand. "My pretty boy."

Ominis whimpers at the praise before moving his hand in your inner thigh and boldy cupping your sex. You jolt in response, moaning as he grinds the palm of his hand against your clit.

"You've done so well. Done so much." Ominis licks his lips as he feels your wet arousal leak through your underwear. You rest your head on his shoulder as Ominis slides the piece of fabric to the side and slide his fingers in with ease. You moan at the intrusion.

You hug him close as he works your inside, shaping you to fit him. He curls his fingers in, pushing them deeper as it brushes against your sweet spot. You whine at its closeness, your hips trying to push it deeper as you grind on his fingers. Ominis peppers kisses on the side of your neck and jaw, cooing as you continue to let out soft moans and gasps at his ministrations.

"P-put it in." You whisper as your hand grips his wrist to stop him. You had almost come from his fingers alone but all you needed right now is to be closer to him. Ominis nods before the two of you remove your remaining clothes. He casts a protection charm and you watch as a thin sheen surface wrapped around his cock. Your hands find themselves cupping his cheeks once more as he angles his cock against your entrance. You gulp as you feel the head bump into your opening.

"You ready?" He softly asks, rubbing his hands against your hips. You smile as you pull him into a kiss, gently lowering yourself down onto his cock. Both of you softly moan out as you take in his length inch by inch. It takes you a while before you feel his thighs hit against yours. You let out a shaky breath as you rub your noses against one another.

Silence, but this time it's comfort. It fills in your heart with warmth and tranquility. It renders you both speechless and only relying on your bodies to communicate how you feel and so, you move.

You bounce passionately on his lap, feeling his length go in and out of your cunt. It draws out whines and moans as you try to keep yourself as close as possible with your foreheads still against one another. Ominis grips your hips as he tries to meet your bounces with his thrusts, pushing him deeper in you. The pleasure is immense and the need for each other's warmth is felt through the clashing of lips and gripping of one another's skin.

At one point, Ominis grabs your waist and pulls you to stand up with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist as he bounces you up and down his cock with vigor. You make choked noises as you certainly feel the thrust of his cock hit the back of your throat. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pushes you against the wall, growling as he rams his cock into you.

You allow yourself to be at his mercy. To be his canvas as he paints you with reds, greens, and blacks signifying the emotions brought by earlier events. Sebastian. Anne. Mr. Sallow. The triptych. The Scriptorium. His family. Slytherin. You allow him to use you as he sees fit as you do to him.

Ominis pulls his head back from your neck, thoroughly marking your neck. He presses his forehead against yourself as you feel his hips stuttering.

"Stay with me. Please—" He whispers, broken as he pleads softly. You grabs his face between your hands as he practically fucks you into the wall. "Stay. Stay by me. F-Fuck."

"I'm here." You reassure him as you place a chaste kiss on his lips before you move to press against his ear, your hand gripping his hair tightly. He moans in response. "I'm here. I'll be here, always."

He snarls at your response as he moves his hips faster. His hand dives down to rub your clit, stimulating you further to your climax. You let out high-pitched whines against his ear as you grip his hair tighter.

It's him who releases first as he bottoms out and let his fluid be caught by the protective charm, forming a barrier from being released inside you, yet despite his release being protected, you could still feel its warmth which prompts you to release as well. Your body jolts at your orgasm, your thighs shake and your toes curl at the intensity. You push against Ominis, head banging against the wall as you choked out moans.

"I love you. I fucking love you." Ominis snarls as he dips down to suck your breasts. It further enhances your lengthy orgasm as you grip his shoulders in sensitivity. Ominis gently pries you from the wall as you slump in his arms before gently placing you down on the bed.

Its all hazy as you feel being cleaned up before a body is pressed up yet again against you. Ominis wraps you in his embrace as you pull him close. You feel overwhelmed with the need to be close to him as he continues to give you soft kisses against your face. You didn't even know you were crying before Ominis gently brushed against your temples, catching the falling tears. You open your eyes as you stare at him beside you.

"Ominis." You whisper as you face him on your side. You place a soft kiss on his lips as your leg rests over his hip. The need for each other's touch never left. His hand runs the length of your thigh as he slots himself between your legs. You miss the fullness as your swollen and sensitive pussy clenched over nothing. "Inside. Please."

Ominis moves in silence as his hand pushes you close against him through the small of your back before grabbing the shaft of his semi-hard cock and pushing it back in with ease. You dreamily sigh as you place kisses against his lips. Both of stay still, feeling your inner walls pulse against his slowly hardening cock, both riddled with sensitivity.

"I love you too." Your reply to his declaration after a few moments of silence. You trace his features with your finger as he softly smiles at you returning his affection. Tears flow freely down your faces as you kiss once more. It's you who pulls back first.

"I'm here with you."

"As am I, my little dove."

A/N: smut is done best at 3 am. hope yall enjoyed this :D you and ominis fucked each other so hard bc yall needed to vent <3

[eupheme]

— i’ll be seeing you | part ii

[masterlist] | [playlist] | [part i]

invisible man!alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 6k

tags: invisible man!au, age gap, holiday fluff, light angst, alfred is fully invisible/silent to reader, shared spaces, mutual pining, magical elements, holidays and christmas, blink-and-you'll-miss-it pennywayne, use of alcohol, references to masturbation, kissing

Your time in the Tower with Alfred passes. And even with some secrets revealed, you're still left wondering. Curious - filled with an eagerness to help, to make yourself useful. Finding yourself reaching out. Touching. Believing.

"Bruce is infuriating," You huff, your arms crossing as you lean against the open doorway. "You know that?"

It had been impossible to sleep, as you turned those texts around in your mind. 

Trying to read between the lines, knowing how words could twist. Considerable time spent delving deep into the bowels of the internet. Pulling up as much as you could about sorcerers and curses.

Most dismissed as myth.

But then again, most people did not live in Gotham.

The back of your hand scrubs across your eyes, the morning light feeling too bright with his bedroom curtains pulled back, "I asked him last night like you said, but I couldn't get a straight answer. Has he always been this way?"

There's no reply. Silence lingered like it usually did, your lips dipping into a frown. Until there's a touch at your back and you're pressing against the doorframe - letting a pile of linens pass from behind.

Watching as they are set onto the open self in the closet, before the pen is lifting off his bedside table. A quick note, torn free from the pad before it's passed your way.

You have no idea.

There's humor in his words - you can't help but smile, as you read them.

"I want to help you."

You're still looking down. Twisting the paper between your fingertips, before finally looking up, "What have you tried?"

It takes a while for an answer. The usual quick scratch of his pen now slow - hesitant. Tearing a sheet off before beginning again. You have to resist the urge to peek over his shoulder, fingers curling into fists to keep yourself in place.

Finally, his reply.

We have tried everything.

The Waynes had a lot of connections. And I am still the same. I did not tell you so you could take this upon yourself. I told you so that you could understand. There's much that I am unable to speak about. I had hoped Bruce could.

But I should have anticipated this.

An ache radiates from your chest, as you quickly reread. A swell of emotions threatening to burst, as you glance up - into nothing.

"What if I want to?" There's a burn in your throat, in your eyes. It's embarrassing how quickly you've become invested, you wished you could make him understand, "It's not fair, Alfred-"

Hands touch your arms. Fingertips sliding from shoulder to bicep, the movement soothing. A deep breath loosening the feelings that choke you - a hand lingering as you hold the pad for him, as another note is written.

Life rarely is.

You've done more than enough already.

"I haven't done anything," You protest, your voice pitching up, "Please let me-"

There's a weight against the pad you hold. A line scored beneath the last sentence, for emphasis. Your eyes linger on it, until the words unfocus. Trying to understand what you've been told.

That maybe… you were being foolish. 

What could you possibly offer, when near-limitless resources and money had already been at their disposal?

The tension leaves your shoulders, as you wilt.

He leaves you with one more. His hand curled around your shoulder, softly squeezing.

Thank you for worrying about me.

The paper stays crumpled in your hand, as you slip back to your own room. Needing the space, trying to respect the gentle dismissal. 

To remind yourself that this must run deep for him. It's been hours that you've thought about this, but for him - it's been years. You should not push.

And so - for now - you won't.

But you won't forget.

Days later, you wake to frost on your windows. 

Spider-webbing from the cold, arching iron -  muting the dark shadows of the cityscape outside. It creeps inside, across the hardwood floors that bite at your toes, before you're wrapping up.

Feet tucked inside the shearling slippers left outside your door. A thoughtful and practical kindness, fitting for the bits of him you've been able to piece together. 

A thick sweater is layered on, then soft sweatpants. Today, you're sure to be kept inside, and you've long since given up on standing on ceremony.

It's later than your usual. Inspiration striking just as your eyes closed. The night spent writing down what you could, lasting until the inky black turned a watery gray. The sun has been up for hours, though there is no warmth to it. Not in Gotham.

The kitchen is quiet when you arrive. A slight pang of guilt when you see the coffee mug sitting out next to the empty french press.

It feels so strange - how quickly a routine has formed. It still felt unreal, something that you still did not quite believe. Never thinking you'd find yourself looking for someone you couldn't see.

Even now, your eyes scan across the kitchen - as if his form would appear. Hands busy as you fix an afternoon breakfast, though your mind wanders.

The rejection had lingered. Throughout the evening after you had talked. Another sleepless night gathering information. 

Even finding articles about those who had been cursed, though they had all seemed senseless in their intent. Cured, once Faust had been locked away, the magic fracturing until they were released.

There was something different, here. Something Bruce knew that you didn't - still unable to coax it from him. Days were starting to pass too quickly, but there was still time. 

You still had hope, even if it seemed like they didn't. 

Relief comes when there's that phantom brush at your shoulder. A "good morning", in not so many words. A kettle moving to the stovetop, the fire clicking on. 

Alfred gets your coffee ready for you, as he always did. Knowing how much you enjoy it - the warmth, the boost - drinking nearly as much as the cups of earl grey he brews.

You had protested, at first. But it had been a mimicry of your first meeting. That hand at your elbow, guiding you back to your seat. A firmness in the way he tucked your chair back against the table, back in front of your screen.

You had relented.

The pen lifts as you both wait, ink scratching against paper. Your shoulder bumps into something solid, as you lean over to read.

You're up late today.

A yawn cracks your face, at the reminder. It's closer to evening than morning, now.

"I had an idea for the ending, just as I was going to sleep. I knew if I didn't write it down, I'd forget."

A moment, as the kettle is lifted.

"Sometimes I think I work better at night. When everything is just... quiet. Does that make sense?"

That seems to be common around here.

The thought makes you smile.

"Yeah?" You ask, "Is Bruce a night owl?"

The pen scratches, after a pause.

Something like that.

The coffee warms you, fighting the swirl of flakes outside, the moan of the wind. Radiating outwards as you lean against the counter,

"What are you up to today?" You try to ask it idly, a fork spearing another bite of your meal. Always interested in how he spends his time in this old house. Alone without Bruce, except for his memories.

I thought I would bring some of the decorations out. I've been putting it off, but it is December.

"Decorating? For the holidays?" The prospect is exciting - you're already picturing silver stars hanging from the arched doorways. The pure height of a tree that would fit in their open foyer - with its tall, pointed ceiling, "Do you both celebrate?"

For a second, he does not answer. The pen shifting on the counter, his answer with slow, neat letters.

I do.

The singularity of his answer has a pit forming in his stomach. Is it an old tradition? Kept from the days before - an attempt at familiatry, received by a boy that rejects it? Or was it only for him?

Bruce’s trip is open-ended, you both know that. That his offer to you had extended through the beginning of the new year, but the date of his return had not been set.

You find yourself thinking that Alfred still wishes. Hopes that he’ll make it. Wanting to have the Tower ready, just in case. 

The words come again without thought, "Can I help you?"

You've written enough for now. An ache in your elbows from the way you hunched over your desk all night, trying to get it all down.

A pause - and you half-expect him to refuse again. But there's a touch to your shoulder, two gentle squeezes.

Yes.

It takes more than a single afternoon.

The decoration lasts days - time spent bringing out boxes from one of the deep closets on the second floor. Sorting out garlands to drape across the fireplaces. Wreaths and candles and boxes of ornaments in glittering shades of black and silver, crimson and gold.

Remnants from another time, each with their own story.

You wonder how long they've had them. If Alfred always puts them in the same place, year after year.

Some, you voice aloud. Handing over your phone so he can key a reply.

These are new. Or - We bought these over from the Manor, when Bruce was young.

A yearning left in your chest to hear the stories with his voice - craving every last detail and memory, instead of the short summary. To scratch and peel back that first layer, making a home beneath it.

Perhaps, you will - with time.

You follow behind him when time allows. Tracking the floating boxes down the corridors that have now become familiar. Steadying step ladders as a hand brushes your shoulder for balance, sending your pulse racing each time. Moving back to give a nod of approval when it's hung just right.

The long hallways turn cozy. So much of the blank space filled with care, under Alfred's watchful eye. Some of that military precision and sternness comes out as he made sure every detail was exactly right. Each item in order, as they should be.

There's a sense of accomplishment in seeing the boxes slowly empty. Ella Fitzgerald and Dean Martin serenading away the hours, their crooning voices following the decorating through the Tower.

And in-between these moments, you slip in other kinds of questions. Self-serving ones disguised in these 'getting-to-know-you's. Though you still want know -  no less eager for the answers.

"I'm mailing out some gifts this week." You mention, while untangling a string of lights. It was easier to sound casual, when your fingers are working the knots free, "Do you have anything on your Christmas list?"

It's part-genuine, part-segue. Fully intending to have something wrapped and ready for him come Christmas morning, though there’s more than one layer to your question. Ears perking up, as your phone lifts from the table where you sit.

I believe I have everything I could hope for. What about you?

Your eyes scan the message once, twice. A warmth in your cheeks as you find yourself wishing there was a deeper meaning to his answer, before you realize just how little he's really given you.

"Really?" Your head tilts, with a small smile, "Not even, like - a Montblanc or a Rolex, or something?"

He's already answering, amusement lacing his expedited reply.

Is that what you think I want?

And god, you wish you could hear his voice. An ache in your chest, a wish to learn every little inflection. Leaving you wondering how these words would sound, rolling off his tongue. 

“No.” You eventually manage, with a little shake of your head, "I don’t think so. You’re too practical.”

He would never ask for anything so luxurious. Even if he deserves nice things. 

The phone stays still, and your fingers twist. Eventually asking what you really want to know. 

"What about in general? If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

You're sure the answer sounds stilted, out of place. Too obvious, in your intent. But you can't help it, this chance - a hope that he will give you something to work with. 

There's a long pause at that. Your heartbeat feels too loud, and you're hoping he'll take your bait. Bruce's words replay in your head, as you resist the urge to cross your fingers for luck. Alfred doesn’t know what he told you, he won’t know what you’re really asking. 

From what we've gathered, his curse will be lifted when he gets what he wants.

You need to find out what that is. 

Foolishly, a small part of you wishes that just maybe... he’d want you. It would be an easy thing to give, because you’re certain you're his already. 

The words appear slowly. Written and then erased before you could see. Written again.

I suppose if I could have anything, it would be a piece of home.

But what I would really like is for Bruce to come home safely.

It tempers you, to read this. How much he must worry and care, even though Bruce was just on a business trip. 

You suppose that perhaps, you never grow out of it. 

"He will." You tell him - reaching out, until you can press your palm against the back of his hand. Halting where he strings thread through the edges of the snowflakes you cut - preparing to hang them in the windows.

The answers are not as helpful as you had wanted. But you still tuck them away. Perhaps with enough pieces, you'll be able to see something they missed.

And in spite of these roadblocks, a part of you still feels lighter than you did when you first arrived all those weeks ago. A knowledge that this break would be helpful - but that you'd be away from friends and family.

But as the evening comes, as you're tucked on one of the long couches with twinkling lights softening the bright glow of your screen, you think you feel... happy. Content.

Not nearly as lonely as you thought you would be, and with that comes a cold twist of shame in your stomach. Thinking about how easy you have it, compared to him. You're willingly confined to the Tower.

Alfred is shackled. His only connection across the sea, left to wander silently if you had not noticed him.

And now... you're only one mere person, but you hope he never feels unnoticed again.

"Can I touch you?"

His eyes round with your words. The innocent, curious edge, though his thoughts swim into something much more indecent.

A second passing, before more words come in a rush.

"I just... I've wondered. “You breathe, your voice soft. “I believe what happened, I've just been curious-"

His hand reaches to soothe your nerves. Your request surely emboldened by the winding down of the evening. The final touches put on the decorations that now flow throughout the Manor.

Ending with the large tree tucked away in one of the alcoves. Sitting together beside it as the last glittering ornaments are added along the bottom. 

His back will be aching tomorrow, with all the bending. Surely needing to rely more on his cane than usual -  but for now he's content, where he rests on the stone floor.

Your matching cups of whiskey, honey, and lemon already drained, and then refilled. Warming your bellies, making his own mind soft and hazy at the edges. 

He thinks you might not have asked, otherwise. Maybe he would not have been so quick to answer - fingers curling in a now familiar way around your forearm, with two soft squeezes.

Yes.

You can do whatever you like, though you do not know it. 

If he only has until the end of the month before you leave and forget all about him, then he will bend for you. All those strict and proper thoughts turning malleable with your touch. 

Relief blooms across your features. Your smile comes easily, pleased at the indulgence. A little mark appearing between your eyebrows after, as they sweep over him - wondering where to begin - seeing nothing.

He can help you. Guiding your hand to his wrist, giving you a place to start. There's the flit of your fingers as you find his other, dragging his hand down to your knee where your legs criss-cross, twisting until you face him.

"Tell me if I'm doing it wrong, okay?" Your fingers press over his, mimicking a squeeze.

His own answer comes easily.

Yes.

As if you could.

As if his own heart hasn't lurched - taken off without him.

You start at his fingers, pinching them between yours. So much smaller, colder than his, as you traces over the lines of his palm - pressing into the meat of his thumb.

A little smile, as you move to his wrist. His sleeves still rolled up from trimming the tree, in spite of the chill that always seems to permeate the Tower. The loose circle of your hand growing wider the further you move up, over his forearm.

In all these years, he has truly felt cursed. A manifestation of all those worries, when Bruce had been suddenly left alone. Becoming truly as helpless as he had felt, back then. No more than an errant thought.

It had been worth it. The sorcerer’s spell, one that was aimed at Bruce. Something unlike the others, thrown into the streets of Gotham. Devilry in its making. 

Manifesting fears and insecurities, biting bone-deep. Plucking and sifting through things so buried, that they were thought to be hidden.

He knew what Bruce would relive. What he wanted, more than anything. Something Alfred wished for as well, in his heart of hearts. 

But he also knew it could never happen. The dead cannot return, and in spite of the chasm of regret and pain, he had made some kind of peace with it. 

Bruce had not. 

Back then, they did not know for certain what the spell did. There just were inklings and clues, in the days before the attack. 

It was enough. A determination to push himself to the front, to take the brunt of that blast for a second time. Like he would, a thousand times over. Shielding Bruce from the agony of his memories. 

Only to be forgotten. To be rendered invisible and silent - a constant reminder of his own loss, those years after when Bruce had seemed to just see through him.

A sacrifice worth making. And for years, he had born it. 

But in these last few weeks, in this moment - he does not completely and utterly despise what he had become. Because he would not have been able to look at you like this, eyes so fixed on your face. 

Catching every unguarded expression. The soft shadow of your eyelashes as your head dips, as if you’re trying to make out his form.

You don’t have what Bruce has. He has no way to offer those contacts he developed - Alfred’s form lit up in shades of warped and molten infrared. 

But it’s almost as if you’ve managed to make do without. 

He tries to resist the stirring - the soft sigh that threatens to break free, as your fingers press into muscle, even if you can’t hear it. Your path tracing over his biceps as he tries to go still, unmoving in your exploration.

Your other hand rises. Twin touches to his shoulders, tracing the edges of his dark vest, finding the tie at his throat. Knotted that morning from instinct and muscle memory - he has not seen his own reflection in years. 

You smile, lower lip caught between your teeth - fingers wrapping around the silk.

“You still dress like your photo.”

A hitch in his breath then, to think that you remember what he had looked like. How you say it so plainly and assuredly, as if you’re certain.

Your look turns thoughtful, as you squint at him again, “If I were invisible, I don’t think I’d wear clothes at all.”

Christ.

A visual flickers through his mind before he can help it - fingers clamping down vice-like around your knee. 

You squeak, already forgetting what you said - concern swirling across your features, “I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

He manages to answer, a much more gentle "No" squeezed into your skin - though you still look worried. Already mourning the loss of your touch, as your hand hover, fingers curling. 

Alfred wishes he had words. Anything to assure you that you did nothing wrong, but all he can do it catch your wrists. Guide them back to his shoulders, in silent encouragement.

And here, you go slower. Over the crisp fabric of his shirt collar. The slightest shiver when your hands touch his skin, feather-light against his throat.

The smallest quirk of your lips, as you watch the way your hands hover in mid-air. You could stop here but you don’t - a soft sigh as your touch moves higher, pairing with a soft murmur.

“Just making sure you’re real.”

A thumb flattens over the bristle of his chin, fingertips against his cheek. Over the strong curve of his nose - as if you’re trying to piece him together. 

The thought has an ache forming in his chest. A tightening - a low fluttering in his stomach. 

Unable the help the slightest lean into your palm. His eyes closing at your touch, the flex of your fingers as they move to cradle his cheek. 

It would take nothing to shift his head, to press his lips to your wrist.

But he’s always had a strong handle on his restraint. 

Even if you are, have been, testing it’s limits. 

There is very little that would make him refuse you, save for requests from Bruce. The ones he’s set in place for himself, ones that you've been so carefully nudging at.

Those he would hold above all else.

He had made a promise to himself that he would never ask, even if he could. Even if his own heart had run away with him.

Bruce had found a loophole some time ago, something he thought would work. But Alfred wouldn’t stoop to manipulation. Not then, and certainly - not now. 

Even with your careful prodding. It had not been hard to sense what you had been really wanting from him. The intent behind your questions, the fire in your eyes - how focused and serious your expression had turned, for those brief moments. 

With them, there had been the smallest spark.

A flicker of something like hope.

But he would not ask it of you.

If it was meant to be, then it would happen. But it would be on your own accord, not his.

Your lips part, as you lean closer. The slide of your other hand, curling around his neck, the tips brushing where his hair is shorn short. It’s as close to an embrace than he’s had in years, his own breath quickening. A low stirring, at the way your head tilts, the careful focus of your eyes.

As if you could almost -

The grandfather clock chimes, two long notes. Sounding more like a dirge in these empty halls, breaking the tight string of tension.

He mourns the warmth of your hands, as they drop. As you blink, eyes confirming the time. Stifling a yawn, arms bracing on your back in a stretch. A movement that his eyes follow, still caught in that shared moment for a second longer.

"I should go to bed. I need to work a little longer." The smile you give him is shy, sobering up at thought. Pushing yourself to your feet before he can move, scooping up the now-cold mugs.

"Thank you, Alfred."

It's not until you’re gone - when he’s in bed and resisting the urge to slip his hand beneath the sheets, to fist the hard curve of his cock - that he’s realizing… 

He's not quite sure what you’re thanking him for. 

The television washes the dark room in a pale light, as you idly flip through movies. Tired after a long day - unable to bring yourself to open the email from your editor yet. Surely a mile-long list of changes awaiting you.

Instead, you settle on something cozy, something familiar. The thin blanket stretches out across your lap as your legs curl up, tucking yourself into the corner of the couch.

No more than ten minutes pass before he finds you. His presence announced with the creak of a nearby closet. A much warmer, thicker blanket bundled in his arms.

Your smile soft and thankful, eyes tearing from the screen as if you could see him as he tucks it around you. A warmth and a shyness creeping in, trying to sound casual, "Do you want to watch something?"

A moment, before the cushions on the couch dips. A presence settling next to you, your teeth cutting into your lip as you bite back your smile. Not-so-secretly pleased, that he did. That he wasn't too busy to join you.

Unfolding the edge of the blanket, offering it out to him. Your fingers brushing over the woolen knit of his arm - a sweater, from the feel of it.

Something different, than last time. You've taken to imagining him the same as that little photo. The crisp white shirt and inky black vest, not a single stitch out of place. 

"Are you cold?" You're always were, in the Tower. It's something you like - drifting off to sleep under the layers of blankets. Slipping on your biggest and coziest cardigan, while sipping a warm drink as you work. 

Before he can answer, you're slipping from the couch. His own touch snags at the long hem of your own sweater, a soft kind of protest. One that is ignored, as you head to where the embers in the fireplace glow - the logs you threw on at lunch no more than ash.

"You work too hard," You comment, stacking in more. Enough to last the length of the movie and then a little longer, "You just stay there, alright?"

It's not as neat as he does it. The fire licking at your fingers as you light the match - almost dropping it. Tucking it in with the kindling, hands cupped around your mouth as you blow the embers back to life.

Making sure you're satisfied, that the warmth has started to curl into the tower, before you head back. The movie a quarter-way in now, the second time the main characters are meeting. Time skipping forward - an awkward reunion and one-sided reminisce on a shared flight.

"Do you want me to pick something else?" You ask as you sit down - no longer planning to tuck into the corner, accidently overestimating the amount of space.

A soft collision of your shoulder into a broad chest. Your thigh pressed snugly against his - your cheeks burning as you shift to the side. 

An apology slides from your teeth - a deprecating comment about how clumsy you are, as he tugs the blanket from beneath you. The brush of an arm against yours as it's moved to cover your knees.

A hand finding that space before, when you sat in front of him - mapping his features. Curling around the curve of your knee, over the blanket. Another soft squeeze, one that oh-so-subtly pulls you just a little bit closer. Bridging that small gap you had created.

No.

Something had changed then, you think. More than just an exploration, when he had let you know him with your touch. A mutual testing of the water, with the way hands had begun to linger, for conversation. 

It takes you another twenty minutes to be brave. The movie passing with your unseeing eyes. Glancing his way on instinct during the double-date that goes wrong - forgetting for a moment that you won’t catch his expression. Meeting only open air, instead.

Finally, slowly, letting your arm tuck under his. Finding the curve of his elbow, fitting yourself against his shoulder. He lets you - loose-limbed in your grasp. Settling his hand over your wrist, fingertips brushing against the patch of skin above the cuff of your sweater.

"It's one of my favorites," You comment - a stream of your thoughts, something that has now become routine. Filling the silence with your words, because he cannot, "Do you like it?"

The two squeezes come quickly. His hand warm, large, against your wrist. Another inch or so higher and a small twist, and his palm would be pressing to yours.

But, it doesn't move.

And neither do you, when the movie ends. When the next begins automatically - another romantic comedy.

Content, to take this moment. Forcing your mind not to run wild - to soak in the tangible feeling of Alfred next to you. The warmth of the room tugging at you.

Eyelids slowly drooping as the night creeps in. Your head coming to rest against his shoulder, cozy and safe where you sit - wrapped in blankets and tucked between him and the plush arm of the couch. 

It's chilly again, when you wake. No longer evening, the hours tipping towards dawn. The space next to you now empty - your head cushioned with a plush throw pillow. Blankets carefully and thoughtfully layered to cover you.

But it's still warm, when your hand runs over it. Still retaining his heat, from where he watched over you. 

From where he had stayed.

Alfred is relieved when he hears the chime of the elevator. He doesn’t trust Gotham drivers even when the sun is shining - much less when all the rain turns into sleet and snow.

You’d been gone all afternoon. Something about picking packages up for Bruce and an errand, pairing it with a little smile that he barely caught -  before you were whisking out the door.

There’s plenty to do, but he can’t help but worry. He’d gotten used to the music you play, your questions, your presence - the Tower seeming so empty without them. That dull ache in his chest turning into something closer to longing, in the days between their night under the tree. His assuredness that he was perhaps, reading into things, lessening with the memory of you pressed so close against him as the movie played.

Perhaps it’s lucky they’re so far up - or he’d have to resist the urge to check the streets below, to see if you were returning. 

Snowflakes cling to your hair, your coat, as the doors finally open. A box branded with Wayne Enterprises tucked under your arm, patterned bags trapped between fingers.

His heart twists when you call out for him, and he has to pause - to wait a few moments, as to not look too eager - before he’s taking Bruce’s package from you. Setting it on the bench near the doorway as you toe off your boots.

You hold the bags close, a smiling protest when he tries to take those, next.

“No, I’ve got these,” You coax, “It’s a surprise-”

Instead, he reaches for your coat. Fingers curling around the collar, as you carefully twist to free yourself.

Your head tilting back with the roll of your shoulders. The fabric slipping down, as you go still in his arms. Eyes fixed somewhere above, in the lush garland that strings across the entryway. 

His own travel upwards, and he sees it - that rich green and red sprig, just as you murmur the word.

"Mistletoe."

Your eyes drop back down. In the past weeks, it's like he's become properly orientated in your mind. Your gaze meets his more often now than they miss. 

He doesn't remember putting it up. The plant woven into another piece of greenery, something they must have missed. Or arranged without thought, in the excitement and haste to move into the next task. 

It's not the mistletoe from the Manor. That was lost years ago, in the move to the Tower. A recollection of how Bruce would run to the door, scooped up in his father's arms. A squealing shriek with the bristle of a mustache, pressed against a chubby cheek. 

How Alfred might find a stolen moment himself there, later. Afterwards, in the dark. 

And when he looks now, at your expression. The pretty part of your lips, your breath held in your chest - he thinks he's quite ready to make some new memories, here. 

Because he knows the look. One he's seen before, the way your hands grip onto him just a little more tightly. It matches his own, a near-perfect reflection. 

Halting your soft, rushed murmur of "We don't have to, it's just-", the words dying on your tongue as his hand moves up, palm curving around the back of your neck.

Just another small indulgence. A quick brush of his lips, and that will be enough.

You melt, with his touch. Going soft and pliant, the smallest tug that coaxes him closer, just as your eyes slide shut. Waiting. 

He admires for only the briefest moment, before he moves. The careful duck of his head, unable the help the quick inhale - toasted vanilla and the sharp bite of winter - before his mouth touches softly to yours.

You make the prettiest sound - a strangled gasp that catches in your throat, as your lips part. An encouragement he needs no coaxing to take, as he draws you unconsciously closer.  

His own groan a rough echo as you let him deepen the kiss, sighing into his mouth as your palms slide up his chest to cling to his shoulders. 

You’re sweet against his tongue. Where it dips against your lower lip, and then against yours, as you meet him. Another moan and it’s enough to make him forget - to loosen his grasp on that tight tether around his own neck.

A step forward has your back pressing up against the wall. A rattle as the coat rack catches against your shoulder, wobbling.

Neither of you notice. Your hands slipping against the soft velvet of his hair, anchoring yourself to him. 

His left hand touching down against your side, sliding up to waist and ribs. Crushing himself against you as if it will save him from drowning. 

It’s when his hips cant forward - a jerking, needy grind of his stiffening cock against the soft curve of your hip. One that you match against the thigh that’s pressed snug between yours - that he catches himself. 

He's lost control. 

Eyes cracking open, growing wider as he pulls away. 

Leaving you panting and sagging against the wall - coat slipped from your shoulders and pooling at your elbows. Delicately mussed, lips swollen from the eager press of his mouth. 

You don't know what you're asking for. 

If they've been wrong, if there's no fix for this life he leads, then it's no way for you to live. He's been horribly selfish, to let things go on the way he has. Reason overridden by his heart and hope. 

He had not realized how deep his feelings had gone, until it had taken everything to pull himself away. Leaving him with the soft echo of his name as he leaves - slipping back into shadow.

But you don't pursue. Perhaps you're afraid as well - the lid that will be impossible to close, once fully opened. 

He paces in his room, later. Replaying the moment, as his hands work. A message keyed on his phone, only to be erased. 

Keyed again. And again.  

He could not say if you were still awake. Your schedule behind the closed door of your room was something unbeknownst to him. If only he had the words - real, physical, tangible words, maybe, he would explain. 

I did not mean to take advantage of the moment. Forgive me.

It's one of the only texts he's sent you. Something unspoken and agreed about their time spent together. Content with the intimacy of the touches and notes, of sharing your phone. 

The screen has only just dimmed before it's lighting up again. The vibration in his palm with her reply. 

Not just words. There's a photo attached - an image of the kitchen. His spot, from the angle. One of the bags you were carrying arranged carefully. A tag with his name dangles from the handle, in careful script. 

Just a single, short sentence below. 

I wanted you to. 

He stares at it for a long time. Scrolling back up to the photo. His feet taking him there, though the silent halls, without thought. 

It's pretty. A red and gold striped bag, white tissue paper spilling from the top. Something written on the tag as he examines it, flipping it around.

It's not home, but I hope it's close. Merry Christmas, Alfred.

It's signed "Yours", with your name in script beneath. He can't help but think about you writing this alone, after he left you. How unchanged, you were.

And carefully, after a long moment, his hand dips inside. Pulling out two wrapped rectangles. The paper peeled away to reveal wooden frames, the carved pattern along the edges reminiscent of the details in his study. 

His photos tucked inside. Ones had held so dear, until the edges had faded away. Carefully preserved, his eyes lingering on their faces as his thumb traces along the stained wood. 

The rest drawn out. Unwrapped, though he recognized the patterns, the logos, from a long time ago.

A tin of his favorite tea. A wrapped package of biscuits.  

He'd only mentioned it once. In those early days, paired with a lament that he could not get them here. That he had searched, but given up some time ago. No more than an offhand remark - a single line scratched amongst a dozen others exchanged that day. Something he never thought would have been remembered.

And after everything, he can’t help but smile - as something inside him loosens. Cracking, at the edges.

Tucking the items back inside, before he's pushing himself from the table. 

He has somewhere to be.

ahh thanks for reading! 💖

[therentyoupay]

Hi Kris! I just wanted to say that after reading chapter 7 you and Callie have left me in utter SHAMBLES and AWE with how devastatingly gorgeous the pictures you can paint with literature are. I’m desperately excited to see how you two will be continuing the story although I do have a question that I’m unsure if you’ve answered before. After this broadway oscar winning fanfic has been completed are you and Callie thinking of possibly doing more collaborations or simply just yourself doing more collaborations with other artists and bringing more delicious stories to life?👀👀💞💞

thank you so much for taking the time to leave such a lovely message in my askbox, for saying SUCH NICE AND LOVELY THINGS, and for sharing with us the impact this story has had on you!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 calli and i have been working so hard on this project for two months, and it really means a lot to hear how much you're enjoying it. 💕💕💕

future kriscallicollabs??? we haven't answered this question before, and it's a lovely question!! currently, calli and i are 1000% focused on finishing more than you know and getting part ii of the jelsa video ready to post (SO MANY GIFS), so we haven't actively started planning any other collabs! however, when this idea was first planted back in the summer of 2023 or whatever, we braindumped SEVERAL ideas into the original majestic KrisCalliCollab google doc... (more than you know was actually only one of several ideas! 🤣)

there's a jelsa!wildward collab that we really wanted to do but didn't have time to do fully, so we made a bunch of LORE, and i made a baby fic, and some edits: one of our other ideas that we really wanted to do was a jelsa!prequel to her wildward series and establish some lore for the first aegis users! we definitely did not have time to create a full-fledged fic, but LORE WAS HAD (pages and pages on the google doc), and in the end, i made two edits and wrote a little micro-fic for it! in the time of the first keeper... maybe one day we'll expand? 🤣

when?? oof, not anytime soon, because life is upon us 🤣🤣🤣 BUT, calli and i are creative counterparts for life (TWIN FLAMES), so who's to say??? maybe sometime within the next five years?? FIFTY YEARS?? to be determined, but i do not doubt that it shall happen eventually! calli has also been pushing for a zelda/link!jelsa AU for ages and i have not forgotten 🤣🤣 in the meantime, we'll just keep supporting and devouring each other's other projects!!

(also, not sure how many people know this, but i beta-read for wildward! i have been beta-ing the series since its early chapters!!)

other collabs? i've been super lucky to be able to collab with @knightsquall (my name twin) for our kris/xris edit+fic soulmate!AU creation, not in so many words! we made it for the prompt: “the first words your soulmate will say to you will appear as a tattoo on your body at a certain age.” that two-shot is still one of my favorites. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

i haven't done any other collabs, though!! i feel like both collabs just happened organically because i was already friends with both xris and calli before we actually started working on our projects! collabs definitely require a lot of trust, for me, and so while it's possible that other future collabs might happen, i'm not actively seeking any out. 💕💕💕 there are SO MANY TALENTED fanartists out here!! so it's definitely not for lack of good company, haha, but rather just that i'd already gotten to know both people really well, so doing a collab was just, like, the natural thing to do, once we had time for it. 🤣 fic fanart? i am, however, so so so fortunate that so many fanartists have been inspired by my stories 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 i am really lucky and grateful to have been gifted so many gorgeous fanarts, fanvideos/AMVs, gifs, and doujinshi comics across multiple fics and fandoms.🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕 you can find (most of) them here, or on my tumblr tag (therentyoupay fic fanart) but BE WARNED, there are massive spoilers. 🙏🙏🙏🙏 proceed with caution, haha! i also desperately need to update the fic fanart page with all the new mtyk art, too!

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🙏🙏🙏🙏 thank you so much for this ask!!! we hope you enjoy the final installments of more than you know and part ii of the jelsa video!! 🥹🥹🥹 thank you!!! 😭💕💕

[crazykuroneko]

*tap the mic* *looking around the fandom* Hello! Assalamu'alaikum. Hi, so I have been having this idea since the season finale. I have waited to see if anyone would start it, but since I didn't see one, I want to do an interest check:

I'm thinking we'll collect like 14 themes (for her age) and give it 1-2 days for us to post about Claudia with that theme. You can post anything: gifs, web weaving, meta, fanvids, fanart, fanfics etc, and post it anywhere, as long as you tag them properly. So, we'll decide on these themes, I'll announce it and give everyone one week ahead (is that enough?) to create them. I haven't done this before but I really want to do one for Claudia, so feel free to put some suggestions under this post.

Basic themes I have been thinking about:

1. Claudia + family/community (the unholy family or early TdV)

2. Claudia + father (Louis or Lestat)

3. Claudia + Madeilene

4. Delainey Hayles and Bailey Bass

what else? (reblog/reply/message for suggestions)

This account of mine isn't a fanblog/fanbase, but maybe I can make a dedicated side blog to reblog everyone's posts here. Or maybe anyone wants to help? For fics, I will try to make a collection.

I will keep the voting and suggestions open until this weekend ends. If this flop (I hope it won't), please act like you didn't see it 🙈

[onyxsboxes]

Hi 🥰 for the fic backstory ask, I'd like to know more about god!Gale!! Where did that come from??? It's such a creative idea! ♥️

Thank you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰, I can't tell you how much I love this au.

take a deep breath

It started a few weeks ago, when @alienoresimagines posted an incorrect quotes where Bucky used 'Oh my Buck' instead of 'Oh my God'.

It was at the same time as we were brainstorming about the bb/de-aged buckies au with Ali and with all the fluff and sweet little ideas we had came up with, my brain needed an outlet for more angsty idea.

After a few tags/comments, the idea was born and with time turned into a rabbit hole (god!Gale was the perfect outlet for a bit of angst)

And as Ali said: "something about how a god can only exist so long as people believe in him so Gale can only be Gale because John sees him and ahhhhhhhh"

A few HC about god!Gale

(Also tagging @alienoresimagines and @mirrsd because they were interested 🥰)

Gale is a minor god and his domain/representation is selflessness.

He has always been there for humans and living creatures, tending to them over time.

When the Others left the humans after deeming it safe enough to leave them alone, Gale stayed and continued to take care of them.

He has a very lonely and long existence, taking care of others without receiving anything in return.

Then one day, he meets Bucky and things start to change.

Bucky who gave him a new name: Buck. Gale has had many names over the years, but he cherishes 'Buck' more than any of them because it's the first thing Bucky ever gave him 🥰 (maybe Marge was the one to named him Gale 🤔)

All the little gifts Bucky gives Gale: the bike, the radio, his lucky deuce, a ginger beer, the scarf, ... turn out to be sacrifices that feed Gale

AND Bucky even bring believers to Gale because he talks about him all the time.

They don't realize it at first because Bucky doesn't know Gale is a god and Gale hasn't had an offering or sacrifice in years.

And Gale falls in love with him for it a little more every day.

Bucky is his first High Priest in centuries, or even the first (I haven't decided yet)

Because Gale's domain is selflessness, he can't grant better health, victories or wealth like other gods. He can only give parts of himself.

That's why he hasn't had many believers or priests over time, he can't give them much and so they didn't stay 🥺 (think a bit like The God of Arepo)

For an offering/sacrifice to “feed” Gale, it has to be done without expecting something else in return (it has to be selfless) and so few people actually (can) do it.

But all the little offerings/sacrifices Bucky has made for Gale (bike, ...) have allowed him to protect Bucky and keep him alive to a lesser extent. Gale can feel him in his domain.

(Bucky's faith is the most beautiful Gale has ever seen and he could stare at it for days)

(These hc came after I saw a gif of Bucky and Gale in the stalag and angst ensued ⬇)

In the stalag, Bucky doesn't want to be alive and, for the first time, Buck can't bring himself to represent his domain.

He can't let Bucky go, so he keeps asking him for little favors and Bucky is so out of it that he doesn't even realize that.

And since the sacrifices aren't given willingly (Buck asked Bucky to do it), Gale suffers from receiving them, they do Buck more harm than good. But it's also the only way he has to make sure Bucky's alive (this way, he can feel him through his domain). 😭😭😭

Buck cries himself to sleep every night because he can't save his high priest or let him go, and all he's doing is making Bucky suffer.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling about god!Gale 😅 now.

(Don't worry @mirrsd, I'm still trying to figure out a way to give them more time together so they're not separated by John's short lifespan 😉)

[nanabansama]

Be Worried for Mitsuba

I've seen a frankly concerning number of people say they expect Mitsuba to be fine after what happened in Chapter 110, and as someone who isn't fully confident he will survive yet, it bothers me a bit! As such, I wanted to bring up a list of reasons why I think Mitsuba could be in danger, and why people might be in for a rude awakening depending on how things shape out.

First, I wanted to bring up something that I don't think a lot of people know about. It's the official tag line for Volume 20.

This is from the Square-Enix website. It says: 「最初でさいごの夜遊び。」

This translates as "Their first and last Night Out."

I don't know about you guys, but this gets my warning bells ringing. It's obviously talking about Kou and Mitsuba's date at the aquarium. So if that was their first and also last one, then...that doesn't sound very reassuring, does it?

Now, a popular theory I've seen going around is that Mitsuba will turn Kou into his yorishiro. And while I think this is a delightful idea, I don't think it will happen.

While yorishiro can take human form, the two cases we've seen (Sumire and Tsukasa) were dead by the time it happened. We don't know if it's possible for it to happen to someone who is still alive!

I also want to direct your attention to the first Clock Keepers arc, when Kou got aged up to around Teru's age.

If you remember, Nene, unlike Kou, was unable to be aged up by Mirai because she had no lifespan left. This basically confirms that Kou will survive until he's in high school, less his fate is changed.

Note that he has no visible yorishiro seal, too.

Now...it's not like he still can't become one! But how likely is it, really? Do we even know if a yorishiro can age? And do we know if someone can stop being a yorishiro? We haven't found a way to get rid of a yorishiro outside of destroying it yet. Tell me, how cheap would it be for Kou to become Mitsuba's yorishiro while facing zero of the consequences?

Honestly, I feel the whole concept of a yorishiro cop-out is a bit cheap, anyway...not that I want Mitsuba to die, but it feels cheesy for him to overcome this by just realizing how important Kou is to him, doesn't it? Couldn't we have done that in the Aquarium arc instead of having this pointless, drawn-out segue?

It seems that for all Mitsuba has done, it just hasn't been enough, tragic as it is. I do believe Mitsuba has found something important to him, or is at least starting to...but it's all too little, too late.

Anyway, has anyone thought about a way for Mitsuba to get out of this situation besides getting a yorishiro? It's worth mentioning that Natsuhiko implied only a school mystery with a yorishiro could survive contact with his cursed blood, but I can't help wondering if there's another option.

Mitsuba's body has a unique constitution, after all. He's a Frankenstein amalgamation of several different weak supernaturals given an identity by the sense of reason taken from the previous Mitsuba.

He falls apart if he doesn't eat. When this happens, he can restore himself by eating supernaturals. He also craves human flesh, which also might be able to heal him, but that obviously hasn't been tested yet.

So here's my question: Could Mitsuba eat enough supernaturals or humans to cure his body of the cursed blood? Would he...try to? It's not like there aren't plenty around him right now...

And then what happens? Even if he only ate the plantlike supernaturals, those were humans. They could've been saved, as proven by when Teru defeated one and restored her back to her human form in Chapter 104. If he hurt any of them, then what would that mean for Mitsuba? And how would Kou react? Just something to think about...

Changing subjects, I think the fact that the original Mitsuba Sousuke's mother is present is interesting, too. I feel like she's incredibly important to the events happening to Mitsuba right now--she's here for a reason, that's for sure. Whether that's anything that'll change his fate or not is another thing.

And just to be clear, while his concern for the previous Mitsuba Sousuke's mother is pretty cute, I don't think it's enough to create a yorishiro out of. Heck, even if he was the first Mitsuba, I don't think his bond with his mother was strong enough to manifest as a yorishiro. (No shade, of course.)

I did point out in my Chapter 110 Spoilers post that she could just be here to watch her son die again, which is an idea I still kind of like. It's a bit poetic, no? Or maybe she will somehow be able to meet him one last time and get closure. I can't say for sure, but I feel like ignoring Mitsuba's mom in this discussion at all is a dangerous pitfall...

In any case, I hope this convinced some of you to start worrying for Mitsuba's life.

Huh? Which Mitsuba, you ask?

Who knows...

[kawaiichibiart]

New AU idea: Abandoned Doll House

No one knows exactly how long it's been. Some say it's been a few days. Some say it's been years. But if there was one thing they could agree on, was that this one house has been abandoned. As they pass it they see no signs of life, but they can hear things coming from inside.

However, no one can be inside, as the last owner died from old age. And yet the windows and the porch are clean almost every morning. The windows will sometimes be open. A rich aroma will pass by, day after day.

No one should be living in there. And yet many say that they often see a young girl lurking inside. Some say she's hiding out in the house. Some say she's the one who killed the old woman who had lived there. Poisoned her, the rumors say. But to many, she is simply the maid:

Honami was born decades ago. While she wasn't the most well off, she had a steady job as a maid. Sadly, she and the owner of the house both passed away during an unexpected natural disaster (earthquake, tornado, haven't decided yet).

The house was destroyed and the two were found in the rubble. They had both died from a combination of blood loss and blunt force trauma.

To this day, Honami isn't sure why she hasn't moved on, but she's found comfort in the rebuilt house. It saddens her that any help she provides (cleaning, cooking, etc.) often lead people to leave.

As time went by, people began to dump things inside the house. And while Honami loathed the action, she began to care after the many dolls people, usually parents, threw inside.

The first were two porcelain doll statues, Shizuku the Phantom Belle, and Kanade the White Reaper.

Shizuku and Kanade were both sculpted by the same hands. Both were made to look very well known women. Shizuku was modeled after a model, however after it was discovered that the model was hiding things about herself, her popularity dropped. Shizuku was ultimately discarded despite being a popular item. Kanade was modeled after a pianist's daughter. His daughter was deathly ill, and said having Kanade by her bedside felt like having an angel next to her, watching over her. She would pass a month later and her grieving father believed that Made wasn't the angel his daughter claimed her to be, but rather the Grim Reaper. With his beliefs that Kanade would kill him next, he gave her to a couple who insisted on taking the figure he was about to throw away, despite his warnings of her being Death itself. She was passed from person to person, each not taking note of her "curse" until she was eventually dumped into Honami's house alongside Shizuku.

Honami then got her hands on Rui the ----* and Nene the Songstress.

Rui and Nene are a pair. The two were sold together more often than they were sold separately. Both were modeled after characters in a play. Rui was modeled after a reclusive nobleman and Nene was modeled after a duchess. The story was meant to told in three separate shows. However, the story was never finished. The creator of the play had run off with the money they had made from the first two shows, leaving the story to die before resolving anything that had happened. Rui and Nene eventually stopped being sold and made. When they were dumped into Honami's house, it was done by a young man who wanted nothing to do with the dolls he was gifted.

Princess An and Kohane "Little Red Riding Hood" were next to arrive.

Shortly after, the same person who left An and Kohane returned to dump Prince Akito, Squire Shiho and Sword Maiden Ichika.

The five of them are part of a fairytale series. A bookstore thought that they'd have more luck selling books if toys were made to go alongside them, as a way to encourage kids to play out their favorite parts.

That's all I have so far, but other dolls who came together (as an actual set or just at the same time) are:

*Rui's tag was destroyed before he was given to his last owner. Where Nene still has hers in tact, labeling her as the Songstress, Rui's is basically gone, so what his role was is unknown.

About the remaining dolls:

Emu is a clown doll. The idea was to make her cute as possible so kids wouldn't be scared of her, which is why her face is free of any clown makeup, the people who made her doll believed that if her face was normal looking, she'd be more likable.

Mafuyu is nurse doll (obviously). She's mostly made for kids who have to stay in the hospital, newly expecting mothers, or nurses who have graduated from medical school.

Mizuki is basically something like an American Girl Doll. She's a collectors item.

Airi is a mushroom fairy and Ena is a woodland fairy. Both were made to go alongside a movie.

Haruka is a fashion doll (think Barbie) and Minori is a wedding doll/cake topper.

The Tenmas are Hina Dolls (again: obviously). They are also the last ones to arrive.

[anincompletelist]

happy wip wednesday! :D

ahhh I have been all over the place today, forgive me if I've missed anyone here! THANK YOU TO @nocoastposts @iboatedhere @kiwiana-writes @cricketnationrise @zwiazdziarka @inexplicablymine @ninzied @matherines @getmehighonmagic @heybuddy-drabbles FOR THE TAGS! and also to @magicandarchery @bigassbowlingballhead @getmehighonmagic @firenati0n for the tags for the last line of 2023/first line of 2024 tags! by the time I saw them I had no CLUE what they actually were because I wrote straight through the new year with RWRB playing in the background ksjhkjhd.

ALSO I made a patreon? (COMPLETELY FREE OF COURSE—do NOT select the paid tier!! i just can’t figure out how to delete it jsksjkd) to have a space to share snippets and other things that I write that don't get posted here or on ao3. I'm not sure how much I'll use it as of right now but I think it could be fun! slowly uploading some things I've written lately. we'll see! <3

trying to share some things I haven't had a chance to before, so here's a snippet from what is lovingly titled 'the train au' in my docs, though the train is actually a shockingly small plot point of the full fic sjhdksjhd.

+

Aaron’s eyes slide over to Henry and narrow. Henry shifts underneath the scrutiny, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Don’t do it, he thinks. He’s only here to help his mother and his sister. There’s no reason Aaron needs to go dredging up the past, ripping open old wounds that’d taken ages for Henry to poorly suture. 

And yet, that’s exactly what he does. 

“I also know a few rather unsavory things about the prince that I’m sure the family wouldn’t want coming into the light.” 

“Objection.” Alex is out of his seat so quickly that he goes blurry, jaw set and eyes blazing. It’s the most livid Henry’s ever heard him. 

The court room falls silent for a moment, and Henry scans everyone’s faces while he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. Aaron looks sickly pleased with himself, leaning back in his chair with a lazy smirk. He won’t be allowed to elaborate further, but the damage had already been done. Henry’s mother seems tense, and Bea looks like she might start crying, her knuckles white where she’s clutching the arm of her chair. 

Henry’s fairly certain that everyone in the room has an idea of what Aaron is referring to, but Bea more so than anyone else. She’d been there for all of it, when Henry began to figure things out and piece it all together, how difficult it was for him to be forced to hide it and what he’d done in reckless retaliation. She’d been the first person he told when things went wrong, always the first. 

The rest of the court room seems a bit restless, murmuring theories amongst themselves, glancing between Alex and Aaron to see which one will speak first. And Alex— Alex looks like he could kill someone. 

Henry can only blink, all too used to the concept of being damned to silence.

+

tags: @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @affectionatelyrs @daisymae-12 @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rockyroadkylers @firstsprinces @xthelastknownsurvivorx @whimsymanaged @priincebutt @songliili @duchessdepolignaca03 @leojfitz @user-anakin @anchoredarchangel @tinyarmedtrex @myheartalivewrites ALWAYS LOVE HEARING FROM YOU GUYS <3 (but no pressure of course)

SEE Y'ALL TOMORROW FOR ANOTHER BRIDESMAIDS CHAP! :D

xx

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Ok this is super hard because I feel like I always mention the same fics for this kind of thing so I'm going to try limit myself to the past year.

Date night (buck/tommy) Bobby and Athena spot Buck and Tommy out on a date together. A little outsider POV-ish that I wrote in an hour and my first time really writing bucktommy AND bathena. I just really want Buck's pseudo parents to "officially" give Tommy their stamp of approval. I know we've already had the scene of Bobby approving, but I want Athena too - though judging by Angela smiling in that zoom interview when Oliver was talking about Buck's relationship with Tommy, we might just get it.

Buck's bisexual speedrun (buck/tommy) taking it slow? we don't know her. Buck and Tommy both going from 0 to 60 in their relationship in .02 seconds. The bucktommy brainrot is real, people. This was based on a post (or ask i don't remember) I saw in the tag where someone said the way things were going with them, Buck would probably show up to work one day soon and be like "Oh yeah Tommy and I got married in Vegas, my name is Kinard now. How was your weekend?"

Love online (tarlos) Luisa takes matters into her own hands to fix Carlos' love life. I just really liked the idea of interfering sisters - and the last line that I basically wrote the rest of the fic around.

Undercover (tarlos) A season 4 what if...? Where Carlos' big secret is him going undercover instead of his marriage to Iris. Inspired by this gifset of Rafa in some other show (I think) playing a barman. (I wanted to link it but the link on my AO3 is dead - the OP might have deleted it or something) This is a little older but I got a comment on this a few days ago asking for more. I'd kind of abandoned it/forgotten about it but it made me dig up the file on my computer and found a half finished next chapter, so I'm going to try (not making any promises) to update it in the not too distant future.

View from the taco truck (tarlos) My season 5 countdown exchange fic - TK and Carlos' relationship through the eyes of their favourite food truck vendor. The idea has been knocking around my head for ages and I finally (eventually) decided to write it... but I'm honestly not sure about it. it "sounded" better in my head (as usual). But thank you to everyone that's read it and liked it and left kudos or a comment!!

Thanks for including me ❤ I'm a little late to the party so I think all of my fic writing mutuals have done this by now. If you haven't and want to - consider this your 'tag'!

[symphonic-scream]

Please I need more twins content… or queers…

How about,, variant on the twins?

I've been loving P4 again so of course my brain went and made an Inaba variant of the twins. This is different than the arcana swap with the twins (tag is Akechi Twins AU) cause this is a variant on another au I had

So. What if the Niijima siblings were raised by Naoto and Rise?

Mess up ages a bit and BAM

I had a smaller variant that lasted like 15 minutes where they were. All triplets but that's complicated

So, Sae is 16 when her parents die. She's got baby twin siblings, and no family that would take all three. It's looking like they're going to be separated

Until, an old friend of their father shows up, looking to adopt with his wife. And things, turn out different

They spend their childhood in Inaba. The family moves to Tokyo to support Sae in her degree and then defense attorney career. This, leads to a change in how events unfold in Tokyo. Cause, Goro's on meds. And so is Makoto. They're fucking ***adjusted***

I haven't fully thought through like plot ideas but ones I'm considering is. Shadow OPS twins?? That's an option I'm considering. The Thieves group would be slightly different, with Hifumi being added in for sure, and they'd keep encountering these two older teens in mementos and palaces and they start assuming they're the ones fucking shit up

But Goro and Makoto? They're also investigating. No thief outfits, but two personalized uniforms, one with red highlights, the other with blue. They're after the Black Mask too, and keep stopping to watch this group of disasters sing karaoke as they now down shadows in the depths

So no Sae palace either! If anyone thinks this is a cool au to cook up I'll do so, and work stuff out (I'll also take suggestions, and work it out here. I haven't done that in a while)

But. This one would have a great twins dynamic. They still bicker and tease, shoving eachother and sparring for fun, or to decide who gets to choose dinner. But, they have each other's backs 100%. Down in Mementos, it's them against the world.

At home? They come home to forehead kisses from their mom, who sings as she sets the table. Their dad is cooking after a long day of work, Sae sitting on the couch with coffee. Makoto would help cook, while Goro helps their mom, or chats to their big sis

Naoto noticing the signs of their disorders early. Rise singing softly during a thunderstorm, when Makoto shakes, and Goro worries. Sae stopping by the apartment weekly for dinner, before game night where they become the most competitive group of assholes you've ever met

So. Sorry I used your ask to put this idea out there but yeah. Shadow OPS Niijima Twins? Lemme know if this is interesting

(also, gimme two weeks. Queers one shot incoming!)

[captain-aralias]

9 books that are my favourites

tagged by @arenee1999 a few days ago, thank you <3 as i was writing this list in my head last night, i thought - this could be read as a list of my favourite fandoms and television/film adaptations, but hey ho. i did a degree in english lit or something.

harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban by JKR - no book has been so important to my life and i also just think it's a really fun mystery and i still like it, so - it's here, it's staying.

carry on by rainbow rowell - but of course. this one was quite important too.

pride and prejudice by jane austen - i don't think this has ever made a fav book list before, i think because i thought it was too basic, but damnit - this book is great, it influences the way i write enemies to lovers, i love the 1995 adaptation and all of austen's novels are bangers except mansfield park, which i keep trying to like but it sucks.

the once and future king by TH white - all my life i loved the movie 'camelot' and it's depiction of arthur. i only learned as an adult that it was TH white's gentle, earnest, thwarted arthur that they'd used <3 he's perfect. 'ill-made knight' is the best of the series, IMO

lieutenant hornblower by cs forester - i haven't read the books in ages, so maybe it's time for a re-read. the ioan grufford adaptation is great, i wish they'd do the later/earlier books too! BUT this early (in hornblower's life) book is my fav - the only one told from bush's POV as he struggles with how he loves hornblower but worries the guy wants to do a mutiny (which he totally does)

the folk of the air by holly black - a new entrant even though i've loved it for years, but i've decided i don't just think it's really good, it's so good that it's one of my favs. maybe the best of the trilogy is the middle book, 'wicked king' where jude is in power with limited support and they fall in love (or do they???). how the king of elfham learned to hate stories is also brilliant.

'the emperor mage' by tamora pierce. i've been waiting my whole life for the numair book and it was terrible, but her first three trilogies are my absolute crack, and this is the best book of those series IMO. the bit where numair tries to hit the emperor for implying he loves his student daine (which he does) while she's listening but disguised as a bird - and then he fakes his own death, and daine goes crazy... that bit has stayed with me for decades, i love it so much.

'night watch' by terry pratchett. i still feel late to properly loving pterry, but i've always liked this one and now i love it - vimes is my guy, i love the time travel, that he trains himself, that he resists both passively and when required actively. v good. my next fav is probably ... 'monstrous regiment', which i think is a bit more of a weird choice (unlike this one which is mega popular and also about all the things i like), but it just does everything right! oh, 'and 'going postal'.

'the princess bride' by s morgenstern william goldman. i haven't read this for ages either so maybe it shouldn't make the list, but i expect it's still pretty great. a mindfuck for a young child who has only seen the film and thinks all of the frame narrative must therefore be real... also, the film is like one of the best films ever and i have seen that super recently. if you haven't seen the home movie, do yourself a favour and watch it because it's a great way to enjoy the movie a-new.

no idea where this meme has been already. so just saying hello to some folks and if you'd like to do this meme and haven't done it already, please do! @giishu @orange-peony @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @carryonvisinata @alleycat0306 @fight-surrender @cows4247 @messofthejess @mysterioussheep

[wanderessblue]

The Slytherin Party

Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt

Part 2 - Sebastian

Tags: NSFW 🔞, aged up characters, smut, best friends to lovers, fluff

AN: go read part 1 before this if you haven't yet :) Part 1 - Ominis

The next morning Sebastian got up with a painful headache: everything around him seemed to be spinning.

As soon as he opened his eyes flashes of memories from the previous evening were pestering his mind.

He could not remember precisely what had happened, but he had an unusual feeling inside that he could not explain. It was as if his unconscious remembered perfectly every detail of the night before, but the conscious part of his mind refused to cooperate at that moment, no matter how hard he tried.

One image, however, kept reformulating in his head: Ominis, his face illuminated by the dim moonlight, his hypnotic blue eyes, the flush on his cheeks, his soft lips on his own.

And then, immediately after, another one: he and Ominis, in his bed, embraced, naked and...

"That's not possible!" He exclaimed alarmed. He couldn't have had sex with his best friend. That would have been ridiculous and senseless and... Oh, Sebastian who do you wanna fool? You've been waiting your whole life for this moment.

"No! It can't have happened." He repeated to himself. That would have been his first time and the idea of having had sex for the first time and not remembering it, moreover under the influence of a potion and probably forcing his best friend, made him feel sick. He felt stupid and terribly guilty.

At that moment his heart was beating wildly. But one thing was certain: he needed to talk to his best friend, he needed to make things right.

He got out of bed and noticed a glass full of water on top of his bedside table with a note under it: 'It will make you feel better' signed by Ominis. Sebastian smiled sadly at his friend's thoughtfulness and decided to follow the advice, after which he quickly got dressed and headed towards the common room to find Ominis.

When he entered the room he impatiently searched for Ominis' face, but instead, MC caught his attention as she shouted his name while approaching him.

"Hey good morning, how are you feeling today?" she asked with a smile on her face.

"I'm better, I guess. But I think I messed up last night." Sebastian replied with a sigh and looked fearfully into her eyes, trying to discern from her gaze if she was aware of what had happened.

"Oh right, you mean drinking Garreth's potion. I wonder what he put in it. You seemed very... euphoric yesterday."

"Oh yeah, of course, the potion...Wait, how do you know about the potion? Did Weasley tell you about it? He swore to me that he would have kept his mouth shut. That bastard."

"Well, actually it was you to admit it to me and Ominis. It was quite a funny scene, I must admit it." MC replied.

"Oh... I must have been a real mess yesterday because I can hardly remember a thing." Sebastian laughed embarrassed and then he added hesitantly: "MC, speaking of last night... Have you seen Ominis? I really need to talk to him."

"Ominis is in Hogsmeade with Poppy. I think they'll be back in the afternoon" replied the girl.

In Hogsmeade with Poppy? And why was that? Why had he asked her and not...him?

Sebastian shook his head, trying to drive away those questions from his mind. Why did he suddenly feel so jealous of his friend? Well, after all, he had always been a bit, because Ominis was his best friend and no one else's, but in that instant, he could feel the blood boiling inside him.

Lately, Sebastian had noticed changes in his feelings. When he spent time together with Ominis he felt happy and wished those moments would never end. He had always been there for him, even in the most difficult moments, and Sebastian had always done the same for him. They had created a bond that went beyond a simple friendship. They needed each other and Sebastian was just beginning to understand it.

He had always known he was attracted to boys as well as to girls. That was confirmed by the several crushes he had had during his life. But it was since not long ago, that he had started to realize that what he felt for Ominis was more than just the affection two friends could share.

Of course, he had never told anyone about it, except his sister Anne to whom he told everything. But surely that wasn't something he could freely talk to his best friend, he was too afraid he might lose him. He had always believed it was better for him to repress his feelings than risk losing him. He was too important for him and he couldn't let it happen.

He had tried, with great effort, to keep his emotions under control and he had succeeded. Until the previous evening.

If he hadn't taken that potion.

He thanked MC for the information and decided to head for the great hall to get something to eat, waiting for his friend to come back.

------

The rest of the day passed quite slowly, Ominis still hadn't shown up and Sebastian was losing his patience: the need to know what had happened the night before was consuming him.

After spending the afternoon studying, he decided to head towards the Undercroft to calm his nerves. The moment when he would talk to his friend was approaching and the mere thought of it made him quite nervous. The Undercroft, on the other hand, was the perfect place he used to go when he needed to think, relax or just be alone.

As he crossed the threshold of the room he saw Ominis arranging some objects, who turned in his direction having heard the gate of the room open. They both exclaimed the other's name at the same time, whereupon Sebastian laughed embarrassed and said: "How long have you been here?"

"Um... Like five minutes, I came by to drop off these books I bought today in Hogsmeade with Poppy." Only in that moment, Sebastian realized that Ominis was holding a book, while two others were resting on a table next to him.

"You didn't tell me you were going to Hogsmeade. At least I didn't expect you to go with her." He uttered the last sentence almost as a whisper. He didn't want to sound possessive, but the words came out of his mouth in that way.

"She was the one who asked me. She had to buy food for Highwing. I told you yesterday, don't you remember?"

"Oh...Really? I must have forgotten it."

After a short pause, Ominis cleared his throat and approached Sebastian who had meanwhile filled two glasses with juice and was handing one to his friend.

"How are you today? Do you feel better? You seemed very out of yourself yesterday" Ominis said, laughing nervously between words.

"Yes, I'd say I'm better now. Although my head is still throbbing at times."

"The potion Garreth gave to you must have been very strong if even you couldn't sustain its effects." Ominis smiled. He knew his friend was quite used to drink alcohol after the nights they had spent at the Three Broomsticks.

"Yeah... Weasley didn't warn me it would be that strong. I don't remember much of what happened at the party yesterday." Sebastian turned his gaze towards Ominis and noticed that his face had blushed a little. He felt himself running out of air, both because his friend looked damn good and also because the blush on his cheeks confirmed that something had happened between the two of them. "There is one thing I remember, though, but I don't know if it really happened." He continued uncertain. "Did we have sex?" He asked, then he brought his glass to his lips and swallowed a sip of the drink.

"W-what? No! Of course we didn't have sex, Sebastian! Why did you think that?"

"Oh thank God." He said after a big sigh. "I must have dreamt it then. But I don't understand, I was so sure about it...but then I woke up and you weren't there and I didn't -

"But... You kissed me," Ominis admitted.

At his friend's revelation, Sebastian spat the juice in front of him catching Ominis in the face.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry... Hold on, let me get you something to clean you up... " He said embarrassed at the mess he had made and handed him a handkerchief.

"So we really kissed? I thought I dreamt that too." Exclaimed the boy incredulously.

"You kissed me. That's different!" Ominis pointed out.

"And how was that?" Sebastian asked after a few moments.

"What kind of question is that, Sebastian?"

"How was the kiss? If you liked it or if it sucked...That's all."

"Why do you want to know? It was just a kiss. You were drunk and I couldn't move." Ominis said almost irritated at his friend's question, almost as if he was hiding something.

"Fine." Sebastian said in a sad tone.

"What is it now? What do you want me to say? That I liked it?"

"No...I'm just curious. I didn't want to upset you."

After a long pause, Ominis sighed, "Okay.... If you want the truth. It was quite nice, actually. Although I don't have any criterion for comparison." He replied blushing.

"What do you mean?"

"It was my first kiss."

"Serious?"

"Yes. How many people do you think I've kissed before?"

"Merlin's beard Ominis! I'm so sorry I was your first kiss. You should have given it to someone you are in love with."

"It's not a big deal, Seb. I told you it wasn't a bad thing after all. Besides, maybe it's good that I gave it to you." This last sentence came almost imperceptibly from his lips and Sebastian thought for a moment that he had only imagined it. Then he approached his friend, taking the glass from his hand and placing them both on the table next to them.

"Why?"

"There is no one I trust more than you."

Sebastian was in front of him as he lifted a hand to his face gently moving a lock of hair back and whispered: "So you did like it."

"I didn't expect it. And I was unsure how to react. But then you grabbed my face and place your lips on mine and... I forgot how to breath. Is this a bad thing? I've never felt this way before."

Sebastian's heart began to hammer inside his chest. He could not believe his friend's words. He had wanted that moment all his life and now that it had come, he had no idea how to react. His mouth had gone dry and his legs were trembling. Ominis, on the other hand, had begun to blush furiously and had lowered his head to the floor to try to hide it.

"Omi I..." Said Sebastian, taking Ominis' chin with one hand and raising it in his direction. "It's not a bad thing. I've felt the same and I can't believe this is happening for real. I've waited this moment for a long time."

"What? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I couldn't risk losing you, you are too important for me. Also, I didn't expect you to return my feelings."

That was true. He had never imagined that his best friend would return his feelings. For months he had felt wrong and had spent nights crying thinking that if anyone found that out, he might lose him forever. But Ominis was right in front of him admitting that he had feelings too. He couldn't believe it.

"Can I?" Ominis asked, raising his hands hesitantly and bringing them close to Sebastian's face.

"Sure."

Ominis first placed his hands on the sides of his friend's face and then passed them slowly over each part: his ears, his cheeks, his forehead and than his lips. At that contact, Sebastian felt a rush of shivers running through his body and swallowed loudly. Then, unexpectedly, he left a kiss on the blond's fingertips. Ominis smiled and let his hands slip behind his friend's neck. At that point, Ominis leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sebastian's, who did not hesitate to kiss him back.

Sebastian felt a warmth in his chest that spread throughout his body, his heart was beating so fast and he could hear Ominis' own doing the same.

This time, the kiss was much more intense than the night before. Sebastian wrapped his arms around his friend's pelvis to draw him closer, then he intensified the kiss even more by taking Ominis' lower lip between his teeth making him moan. That sound drove Sebastian crazy and he took advantage of the boy's half-open lips to let his tongue in. Ominis made a sound of surprise before he respounded to the kiss.

Sebastian then started kissing Ominis' neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that sent shivers down his friend's skin.

He began to unbutton his shirt until he opened it completely revealing the blond boy's pale chest. He continued to kiss his skin until he touched a nipple with the tip of his tongue. He began sucking it and drawing small circles with his tongue around it making Ominis' neck stretch backwards in pleasure.

"Permission to continue?" Sebastian asked breathlessly.

"Y-yes, please."

Sebastian didn't need to be told twice. He lowered himself to his knees and put pressure with his right hand on the bulge in the boy's trousers in front of him. Then he began to unbutton his school uniform, bringing it down to reveal its well erect length.

At that sight, Sebastian's cock jerked in his trousers and he had to bring a hand over it to relieve the discomfort the too-tight pants were causing him.

With one hand still on his cock, Sebastian began to leave moist kisses around his friend's pubes, then he took his length with his free hand and squeezed it, starting to pump up and down.

Ominis began to pant louder and louder and Sebastian wasted no time in licking the base of his genitals. He brought both of his hands to his friend's butt and plunged his face into his testicles, licking them.

Ominis' head was completely backwards, his eyes half open and his lips parted, letting out little sighs of pleasure.

The freckled boy took the tip of the blond's cock between his lips and left a series of kisses on it, then began to swirl his tongue around it.

"P-please, Sebastian." Ominis said begging his friend to take his full length into his mouth.

At that plea, Sebastian's brain shut down completely and his mouth began pumping up and down his friend's length, while one of his hands caressed his testicles and the other rested on his butt.

"S-Seb, I'm... Ahh... Coming." Ominis said moaning loudly.

Sebastian pulled his mouth away and continued the movement with his hand, pumping harder.

Ominis poured completely on Sebastian's neck and chest, who gasped at that sight.

"If I'm dreaming again I don't want to wake up" Sebastian commented still leaving kisses around his friend's genital. Then he pronounced a spell to clean up the mess they made.

As he stood up, Ominis smiled and hugged Sebastian tightly, plunging his face into the hallow of his neck and letting his friend kiss his head.

For the first time in his entire life, Sebastian was sure about the feeling that his heart was holding.