#i cannot wait to see the full shoot

[hanfocus]

HAN for DAZED KOREA (FEB 2025)

[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[darkbluekies]

Cannot take what was never meant to leave

Yandere!king OC x fem!fairy!reader

Summary: Edmund walks out in the forest and finds something he never seen before: a tree fairy. Upon learning that he can't take her as long as her tree is there, he does the only thing he can think of.

Warnings: Edmund is a bit more insane than usual, reader is in a lot of pain, kidnapping, basically killing, use of an ax

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Erutan's song "The Willow Maid"!! I have absolutely loved that song for ages, and after seeing PurestarMedia's music video of it on YouTube, I had to write something!! Edmund felt like the perfect fit for it!!

Summer is almost over. He can tell by a slight shift in the winds that colder times are approaching, even though barely any of the trees show any signs of autumn. He can't wait until he can bring out his thicker coat. He likes the colors of it much more.

Ten men he brought with him on his hunt for rabbits. They've decided to go into another part of the forest in hopes of finding anything.

Suddenly. A sound.

“Shh!” Edmund hushes and holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop.

He listens closely. It sounds like humming. It's a tune he has never heard before, but one that feels weirdly familiar — as if he has heard it in a dream or past life.

Quietly, they follow the sound until they reach a field full of small, white flowers. In the middle of the white field stands a tree with dark leaves. A scene taken straight out of one of the paintings hanging on the castle walls. Edmund notices someone sitting by the foot of the tree, resting among the roots. A woman?

The group of men creep closer. The woman is lying on the tree roots, leaning her head against the tree trunk, having a root under her knees for support. She's dressed in a long, white gown reminding Edmund of the small flowers. On her head rests a flower crown made of the very flowers. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth hums. 

A fairy.

One of Edmund’s men steps onto a branch on the floor, which snaps in half and pulls the fairy out of her thoughts. Her eyes snap open, revealing them to be deep and dark — and full of fear. She shoots up from her root and stumbles backwards, hiding behind her tree.

“Who are you?” she asks quickly. “What do you want?”

“You are a fairy”, Edmund says, still in disbelief.

“Yes … what do you want?”

“Have you seen any rabbits around here?”

She peeks out from behind the tree.

“What do you want them?” she asks and seems to notice the rifles hanging over their shoulders. “I'm not assisting you in killing harmless creatures.”

Edmund meets her dark eyes. They're hypnotic.

“You humans are despicable sometimes”, she says. “Killing innocent creatures who haven't done anything to you.”

“If I wouldn't, someone else would — man or animal.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, we should move on. We have rabbits to hunt.”

He can feel her eyes burn through his back as he walks back over the field of white flowers. He hopes that she will watch him until he disappears into the forest.

“Did you have a good hunt, your majesty?” his secretary asks as Edmund and his ten men come back to the castle.

“Caught a few rabbits”, he answers and smiles, thinking of the memory. “We encountered a fairy.”

They start to walk inside. 

“A fairy?” the secretary asks and holds the door into the castle open for the young king.

“What do you know about fairies?” Edmund asks. 

They walk down the large hall.

“I know that, like humans, there are different types of fairies”, the secretary says. “You found her in the woods, you said?”

Edmund nods. 

“She’s probably a tree fairy”, the secretary continues. 

“Yeah, she was sitting by a tree … almost like it was holding her”, Edmund says, furrowing his dark brows as he thinks about it. 

He holds out his arms as if he was carrying a woman, imagining her knees bending over his right arm and her back supported by his left ��� her head resting on his shoulder — like she had done to the tree bark. 

They walk into Edmund’s office, closing the door behind them. 

“What do you know about tree fairies?” Edmund asks and throws himself in his chair. 

“I know that they live in the woods and that they are connected to a particular tree. They feed off of sap from the tree and flower nectar — and if their tree bears fruit they eat that too.”

“What happens if they eat something else? Like meat? Or potatoes?”

“I don’t know, your majesty.”

“Would it kill them, do you think?”

“Perhaps. What I do know kills a tree fairy is killing their tree.”

Edmund looks up at him. “What?” 

“Their life source is connected to their tree. They live as long as their tree does.”

“So you’re saying that a fairy can become hundreds of years? Thousands even?”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.” He sighs and throws his head back. “You should have seen that thing. Before she noticed us she looked so … peaceful. She was resting and humming a tune. When she realized that we were there she flew up and hid behind her tree. All of that seemed so young and naive. Her tree wasn’t that large either. I think I’ve found myself a young fairy.”

“The fairy seems to interest you.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet a fairy. I didn’t believe that they actually existed. But now, I’ve found one. I think that I’m going to make her my wife.”

The next day, he returns with his ten men and his secretary, dressed in his autumn coat. On the way to the glade, Edmund picks a few flowers with the biggest nectars he can find, hoping that they will be a good enough gift. He is going to ask her to marry him. 

She is walking around the white flowers, picking up a few and putting them in her flower crown. She looks up as they come. This time she doesn’t look as startled, but there’s something wary in her eyes. 

She’s beautiful and delicate, there’s no denying. Edmund needs her. Every fiber of his body needs her. She needs to be his wife, to be the mother to his children. He refuses to leave without her. 

“What brings you back?” she asks as Edmund gets close enough, but doesn’t sound like she wants to know. 

He can tell that she wants to get back to her tree. She gives it quick glimpses and takes small steps back towards it. 

Edmund holds out the flowers towards her. She hesitates before taking them out of his hand. Her fingertips barely graces his skin. Her touch is humanlike, kind and delicate. 

“Thank you”, she says and smells them softly. 

He smiles. He wants nothing more than to hug her, to hold what belongs to him in his arms, but he has to ask the question first.

“I want you to marry me”, Edmund says. 

The fairy drops the flowers in shock. They disappear underneath the small, white ones. Edmund furrows his brows.

“Marry you?” the fairy repeats, shocked. “How could I possibly-? No, no, I shall not.”

Edmund stares at her, eyes darkening, unable to understand how anyone could turn down his proposal. Women would travel far and wide to hear those words come from his mouth, and this fairy — who does she think she is — doesn’t even think twice before rejecting him. It should crush him, but instead it has the opposite effect. He will not leave without his fairy. 

He looks over his shoulder, at his ten men. “Seize her.”

Just as the ten men are about to grab the fleeing girl, his secretary grabs his shoulder. 

“Your majesty, don’t”, he says quickly. “That won’t be possible. She can’t leave the glade.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund scoffs.

“She’s connected to that tree.” He nods towards the tree in the middle of the field. “She can’t leave it.”

Edmund glares at the tree. That damn tree. The woman runs through the flowers towards her tree, hugging it tightly. Edmund finds it humorous how she thinks a simple tree could protect her. He could do it a hundred times better, will do it a hundred times better. 

He sees how she sinks down by the tree, huddled up by the tree bark, crying. Soon, she will search for comfort in him, not a damn tree. 

“We can’t take her”, the secretary says. “I don’t know what would happen if we tried, but as long as that tree is there, we can’t remove her.”

Edmund doesn’t answer as he walks back into the forest. The ten men follow him. His secretary keeps a distance. Edmund feels like he could explode with anger. He had pictured himself leaving the forest with his new fiance hand in hand. But he will not give up. He will get his fairy. 

He returns a third time the next day. This time he’s by himself … and this time, he’s brought an ax. Determined to take her with him. She will be his wife. This time, he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. He will not walk away empty handed. The thought consumes him as he marches through the forest, towards the glade. 

He can see her lying in the same spot he had seen her the first time. This time, she’s not humming. She opens her eyes as he gets nearer and jumps to her feet as her eyes fall on the sharp edge of the ax. 

“No!” she screams in pure panic. “No, what are you doing?! Don’t!”

Edmund lifts his hands and lands a blow on the bark, cutting away a piece. To his right, the fairy screams in agonizing pain and clutches her heart. He continues to hit the tree. The woman continues to scream. She cries in pain. 

It takes longer than he expects. He takes his eyes off the deep cut in the tree and turns them towards her. She’s lying between the roots, curled up with her hands pressed against her heart, crying and screaming. 

“Please stop!” she screams and sobs so that her entire body trembles. “Y-You’ll kill me! Please s-stop, please! I’m begging y-you!”

If he continues to hit the tree, she will die. 

Edmund will have to bring a piece of the tree with him and replant it in his castle’s garden so that it doesn’t die — so that she doesn’t die. He continues to chop. She continues to scream, cry and plead for him to stop. 

A loud creaking echoes through the air. He watches as the tree bends in half and falls. The fairy stumbles upon weak legs and hugs her fallen tree, sobbing. 

With the ax, Edmund manages to dig up root systems of the tree. He holds it in his left hand and grabs the fairy’s wrist tightly with his right. He yanks her up on her feet. 

“You belong to me now”, he says. 

She only sobs for an answer. She tries reaching out for her tree, but Edmund pulls her with him. She stumbles. He drags her into the forest. 

“Please …”, she sobs. “Please …”

He doesn’t know what she begs for. The tree is fallen, he can’t undo what he has done. 

“Please, I’m in so much pain”, she pants. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t have time for it. He has to get her to the castle, where he can lock her in, so that she can’t escape out to the forest again. 

He can feel her collapse. Edmund gasps and watches her lie lifeless on the ground. He shoves the tree roots in his pocket and hurries to check her pulse. She’s still living, for now. Edmund stresses to pick her up. Her limp body rests in his arms as he runs out of the forest, towards the castle. 

He runs into the castle yard, into the hallways and out to the garden. He lays the fairy down on the grass and hurried to dig a hole with his hands. Oh, how he hates the feeling of dirt under his nails. He can’t think about that now. 

He places the root in the hole and covers it with the soil. Edmund runs over to the fountain, cups his hands and fills it with water. He runs back and forth until enough water has been poured over it. He feels for a pulse on the fairy’s neck. There’s still a faint pulsation underneath his fingers. He removes his coat and places it on the ground beside the tree root before lifting the fairy onto it. He caresses her face. 

“You actually got her.”

He looks over his shoulder at his secretary. He stands there, looking at them in disbelief and horror. 

“Is she dead?” he asks. 

“No, not yet”, Edmund replies  breathlessly. “I brought a piece of the tree here and I have replanted it. She should survive. But we need flowers — lots of flowers. And anything else a fairy might eat. We need to nurture her back to life.”

“I’ll prepare some honey water, I think that should be drinkable.”

Edmund sits by the fairy, waiting patiently. 

Hours go by. She doesn’t move. Barely breathing. Edmund wonders if he she has fallen into some kind of limbo, where the tree is barely alive, and so is she. If the tree doesn’t survive, neither will she. He has to nurture both. 

He feeds the tree water and nutrient dense soil and tries to pour droplets of honey water into the fairy’s mouth. Sometimes she responds by swallowing softly, and sometimes let it drip out of her mouth. 

Hours turn to days. Days to weeks. As the tree slowly grows roots in Edmund’s soil and become stronger, so does the fairy. Edmund doubts that she will ever become as strong as she was before. The tree will never be in its full glory again, and neither will she. She can’t walk, her body is too weak to move more than a few minutes. He lets her rest by her short stub. When he can’t stay with her, he watches from afar, from one of the windows. She’s always curled up, hugging her stomach as if she’s got cramps. The poor thing never smiles anymore. 

He holds a glass of warm honey water in his hands as he walks out to the petty excuse of a tree. It'll take years to become as big as it originally was, but it will never be the original tree.

“Hi”, Edmund says softly and sits down beside the fairy, holding the cup to her dry lips.

She doesn't seem to care what she gets fed anymore. Maybe she hopes that it will kill her.

In a sense, Edmund has killed the fairy.

She drinks slowly.

“I don't know what to feed you when winter comes”, he says. “I have harvested a lot of nectar and sap, but I don't know how long that will be good for.”

A tear runs down her cheek. Edmund wipes it carefully.

“My fairy, don't worry”, he whispers reassuringly. “I will figure it out.”

He wishes that she could respond, but he hasn't heard her voice since that day she screams in pain — when he killed her.

He stands up, gives her forehead one last kiss before walking back inside. In the beginning, he used to have guards watch over the garden to make sure that she wouldn't run off, but he realized that as long as that tree is there, she isn't going anywhere.

[conflictofthemind]

Take Me To Church-Gate

A few weeks back, I received a tip that Noah and Finn came into Atlanta for a couple of days to rehearse a scene alone together that never ended up being filmed. This was around the time of the convention that Finn ended up missing in early June (and we initially theorized was for the playground scenes).

I since received confirmation of not only this, but that the rehearsal in question was for a scene at the UD church set. The filming never went through because Noah got an eye infection / sty, so the shoot was rescheduled for early August. If you've seen me mentioning looking forward to August, this is what that was about.

The Eye Infection:

Let me link this post to begin with, barring the 'James' stuff who has proven to be false. I heard about the eye infection and my alarm bells rang immediately - I have a friend myself who wears contacts occasionally and whenever they get sties, they're always caused by the contacts. When has Noah worn contacts before in the show? When Will is being possessed by the mindflayer in Season 2.

The church is an interesting location, because it most definitely has to do with Henry as well. When the original countdown for TFS was being posted, there were images of a church - a location that may have been changed during development. The characters most likely go there as part of the continuing Henry investigation.

And we know Henry was exorcised at some point, but it failed. The sign going into the church is also a likely clue to this, referencing Mark 9:29 - a verse about a failed exorcism.

Conclusion for this part: Will very likely becomes possessed again while in this church. My source tells me they usually only do big rehearsals like this for scenes involving action, too.

My opinion is that Will was never fully exorcised either. I mean, he still has a clear connection to the mindflayer with all the tingles on his neck and the possible literal psychic connection he has to Vecna as well.

It's Byler, Too:

I suspect that Jamie has some part in the scene as well (given they scheduled it during his latest block on set), but the focus is on Will and Mike - being the only two other main characters on set at the time, and the only two rehearsing.

But going back to the church thing.... I wonder what kind of symbolism is created by bringing two gay characters who both have a lot of internalized shame into a location that is honestly the source of said shame? It's honestly not even symbolism. It might just be referenced in plain text. Looking back at that church sign:

"This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer"

"This kind" really evokes the dehumanising language used by homophobes to refer to gay people. And the driven out by prayer part, well that really evokes conversion 'therapy' practices of praying the gay away. So what if this is where Will and Mike finally admit their love for each other, and kiss. And what if that is actually what's able to drive the 'demon' away - gay love.

Especially during the Satanic Panic arc we are sure to see come full circle with the reckoning of the Hellfire Club in Season 5.

An arc which Mike is surely at the centre of as well, being not only a Hellfire Member in the past, but being family to the new disappeared child in town.

And it's not like Mike's love is what's been shown to us time and time again as the way to break Will out of his mindflayer trance. Oh, wait.

Consider it incredibly fanfic-y, but it's on the table now. An action scene at the church involving Byler where Noah is wearing contacts - Will becoming possessed just like Henry again and being made to fight Mike as not only part of the plan to get all of the Wheelers, but also as something that would break Will's spirit permanently. They're all alone with nobody to help save Mike. But the plan is thwarted through the power of love, and in a place that represents a lot of shame for gay men (especially in the 80s) - they finally come together. And it is love that frees Will from his trance. Whether through a confession or true love's kiss. It would be so dramatic and atmospheric.

Additional evidence:

Jopper's Season 4 reunion and kiss inside the Russian church, of which this would be a parallel.

The whole idea of "we kissed, as though nothing could fall. And the shame was on the other side" from David Bowie's Heroes - the shame being in the actual church from the rightside up, but they're alone together on the other side / in the Upside Down.

It is also very likely that this scene is from Episode 5 or 6. I've asked and nobody seems to know which episode it is from, but following the logic of Episode 4 being when the characters enter in groups into the Upside Down, and here Byler are all alone, it is definitely after some time has passed and groups have split further. They're definitely not having any kind of confession in the first half of the season, so this timing sounds positive.

Multiple rehearsals. Noah contacting his acting coach recently for advice. Them even having to cancel an entire shoot because of a sty indicates close-up shots for sure.

Anyway. I'd really love to see people's thoughts on this. I feel like there's even more I could get into in follow-up posts, especially if other people chime in with their thoughts. I have been buzzing about this scene for weeks now. I want to start another gate for old time's sake, so please use #churchgate if you want to make your own posts about this!

[senualothbrok]

A Perfect Storm

Summary: You and Gale give in to your passions, but there are some obstacles along the way.

Sequel to 'A Tight Fit' and 'A Generous Portion'. A reimagining of the Gale romance in Act 1 and Act 2, featuring nosy menaces Karlach and Astarion.

Word count: 5.6k

Disclaimers: Gale x female Tav/reader. NSFW. 18+. Smut. Oral sex. Vaginal penetration. Heavy petting. Light angst.

AO3 link

Beta: @dekariosclan, thank you so much, you are amazing and wonderful.

****

Peach juice gleams on Gale's beard, trickling down the thrust of his chin. He makes a slow sucking sound as it spills down the folds of your fingers. He pauses, his tongue darting over the bulge of his bottom lip, thick and wet. 

His eyes are full and black, sparking purple from the throbbing of his orb. You were not certain what that meant before. You have no doubts now.

He lets out a low moan as he bites down again.

The peach falls from your hand. He does not move. Neither do you. There is a moment when you simply stare at him, alight with the pulse of his desire, rippling with the slick fire spreading from your core. Entranced by the unmistakable swelling between his thighs. 

And then, you feast.

You fall on each other. A gush of peaches cascades across the ground. He laps and sucks at your fingers in a tumult of groans, as your tongue draws frenzied arcs over his soaked stubble, the honey of his skin. His hands are everywhere at once, weaving through your hair, grasping at your breasts, pressing your hips against his. You cannot get enough of him, pawing at his shoulders and his chest and his tousled waves, the bristled heat of his neck, the broad grooves of his back. When your mouths meet, you devour each other, ravenous for touch, scent, taste, anything, everything, more.

You are no longer aware of the open vista around you, the impending return of your companions. Nothing exists but Gale’s panting breaths, the velvet swirls of his tongue. His smouldering flesh against yours, crushing out all space between you, as it had been the first time, when there was no room for pretences and nowhere to hide. All that exists now is your desire, revealed and returned, at long last.

When your hand dips beneath his robe, his hips cant up to meet you. And when your fingers find what they seek, he shudders into the nook of your neck. It is no longer a memory, an ache that beset so many listless nights in your bedroll. You take hold of his hardness, hot and familiar. Searching fingers trail down the inside of your thigh, and you whimper as he rasps your name like a plea.

In the trance of your lust and longing, you do not notice the deepening flare of Gale’s chest. Blinding blades of indigo cut through Gale’s skin. As you move your hand along his length, he buckles into you. He lurches back with a cry. 

You freeze as Gale doubles over, clasping at his chest. Ebony-purple tendrils writhe on his neck like poisoned veins, his chest a searing brightness that hurts your eyes. 

“Gale, what's wrong? What's happening?”

He clenches his jaw, folding into himself. Choking breaths sputter out of him as he balls and unballs his fists. To see Gale deprived of speech is a unique brand of horror. You have no idea what to do.

“Do you need a magical artefact? A potion? Should I get–”

He jerks his head. You watch, terrified and helpless, as he extends a shaking palm. Wait. Please. Wait. His eyes wrench closed, his lips rippling as though in prayer. 

Is this what it was like for him, that year in his tower, before your paths had crossed? The thought of him alone and abandoned, trapped in these convulsions of torment, shoots through you like pain. 

You are not sure how long you sit there.  Gradually, excruciatingly, his breathing slows to a laboured rhythm. The orb dims to a lavender wash. Relief overwhelms you as he lifts his head.

“I'm alright,” he heaves. “I'm fine, Tav.”

“Are you sure you don't need–”

“I'm fine. It’s safe. The orb… it's safe now.”

You suddenly feel so foolish. So blind.

“I'm sorry, Gale. I'm so sorry.” 

“Whatever for?” His voice is broken, but still so tender. You could cry.

“All this time…I thought you were avoiding me because…”

You look away. He dips his head to chase your gaze. “Why?”

“Because you felt embarrassed. Because you didn't want me.”

He lets out a huff of disbelief. His gaze is urgent, so urgent, as he looks at you.

“Tav.” He moves closer. “I've wanted you since the day we got locked in that room. You're all I think about. All I dream of. I've never felt…”

He trails off. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, strained and uncertain.

“I've never met anyone like you,” he says finally.

You understand his struggle. You, too, cannot explain what it is between you. What you feel for him.

“Neither have I. I don't usually do this.” 

His crow's feet crinkle. “That makes two of us. I don't make a habit of throwing myself at people tongue first.” 

For an instant, you are lost in the memory of his tongue. He clears his throat. You tear your eyes away, fixing on the creases of your tunic. 

The orb remains, mercifully, faint.

When you look up again, he is studying you. He scratches at his beard, still damp from your earlier exertions. You can still taste him, and you still want more.

“I’ve always considered myself a disciplined man.” He grimaces. “Surprising, I know, because I just can't control myself around you. Even the threat of imminent destruction couldn’t keep me away.”

You swallow. This is new territory for you, too. You have never felt so desired, and you have never desired someone more. You cannot make sense of it.

“You should have told me,” you manage. “If I had known this was hurting you…”

“I think I had more pressing priorities than talking.” He pauses, chuckles. “I never thought I'd say that.”

Despite the circumstances, you laugh. “You do love talking.”

“There are things I love more.”

Your core tingles as you linger over the swell of his lips. The orb flickers as his eyes hover over your parted mouth. You wonder if you should pull away. He does not.

“I wanted to do things properly. Charm you with dazzling displays of wit. Conjure a canvas to rival your beauty. Dance with you beneath the stars.” 

Is that sorrow in his voice? Regret? He frowns, and in the shadows of his face, you think you see shame.

“If things were different… if we were home… I would give you everything you deserve.” 

It is not quite shock you feel, but you cannot fathom it. When Gale had told you about his past, his greatest mistake and his fall from grace, you had wondered at the fairness of his self-judgment. It did not sit well with you, the crushing burden of the blame he carried, as though the sin was his alone. For you, that guilt had always jarred against the proud veneer Gale projected - the bluster of a wizard of considerable acclaim, a scholar of exceptional accomplishment.

Now, you see him so clearly. The passion that drives him, the gentleness that sets him apart. The conviction that he will always fall short. 

You reach forward to cup his cheek. His breath catches, a mirror of your heart. You have touched before, drawn together by the whirlwind of your yearning, a surging, panting need. But this is different. 

“You already have.” 

His eyes ebb with surprise, doubt, something like fear. There are things you wish to say, but you do not know how. They go beyond the language of your bodies, into the recesses within you that no one else has stirred. 

But still, you try.

“Being with you… It’s everything.” 

He is speechless for a moment. When he looks at you, you know he sees. He smiles.

And as he kisses you, you realise it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

****

“So, let me get this straight.” Karlach leans forward. “All those nights in Gale's tent, and you still haven't ridden that wizard’s staff?”

You rub at your temples. You already regret those extra glasses of red. Wine has always made you loose lipped.

Astarion smirks. “Come now, Tav. That tent lights up like a signal flare every time you go in. You must be doing something.”

You glare at them pathetically. You know they will not let this go, no matter how mortified you are. No matter how much you dig your heels in.

“We can't,” you sigh. 

Astarion arches an eyebrow. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Gale does leave a lot to be desired. Though I’d assumed there'd be spells for that sort of thing. Enlarge, for one–”

“No!” you splutter. “For the love of – No! There's nothing wrong with Gale's–” 

You catch the grin Astarion shoots at Karlach. Karlach gapes at you, expectant.

“It's his orb, alright? Not his… anatomy. We can't because of his orb.”

Karlach's eyes widen. “Are you saying that if Gale nuts, his orb will explode?”

You wince. “That's the worry, yes.”

“Gale’s cock could bring about the apocalypse.” Astarion chortles. “Who would have thought.”

You give Astarion a shove. “It's not funny.”

“Of course it isn't!” Karlach looks genuinely distressed. “You poor things. I can hear you two going at it sometimes–”

“Like a pair of clumsy teenagers,” Astarion pushes in. “You’d have to be deaf not to hear everything, by the way.”

Karlach scratches her head. “Seriously though. What are you guys doing in there? If you can't wet that wand–”

“For gods’ sake!” 

Astarion snickers. “Are you finding all his special places and kissing them better? Is he putting that mage hand to good use? Whispering sweet nothings into your–”

Your face burns. “Just use your imagination!” 

“Poor Gale.” Karlach blows out a breath. “He must have the biggest, bluest balls in all of Faerun.”

“And you must have the most swollen–”

“Right!” You leap to your feet, lunging away from the campfire. “I'm done! I'm not discussing Gale's balls, or my–”

You crash into Gale as you turn. He catches you, alarm and confusion flitting across his face as you squeeze his hand. Sorry, you signal with your eyes as you retreat. I'll make it up to you later.

“What did I miss?” you hear Gale ask behind you. You cringe at the delight in Astarion's voice.

“Oh Gale.” He titters ominously. “I'm so glad you asked.” 

****

“Oh, I get it.”

You chuckle as he wraps his arms around you from behind. Everything feels and smells like Gale - every nook and cranny of his study, plush and warm, every chime of the well-worn piano beside you. The teasing dance of hands around your waist, the tickle of his hair against your neck. The familiar scent of sandalwood and scrolls, indistinguishable as fantasy or flesh. Your fingers hover over the bookshelf before you.

“This is some kind of elaborate courting ritual, isn't it? You seduce me with kisses and honeyed words–”

“I seduced you?” Gale barks out a laugh. “I seem to recall that you were the one who touched my–”

“You whisk me away to your wizard’s tower, ply me with mood music, and then–”

“Excuse me, but you willingly accepted my invitation. No whisking was involved–”

“And then–”

“I might also remind you that technically, we haven’t left the boundaries of my tent, given that this is an illusion, though admittedly, a masterful one–”

You jostle him. He nibbles at your earlobe, and you bat him away half-heartedly.

“And then, you show me your personal, and very extensive, collection of porn.”

Gale titters as you gesture towards a cluster of tomes in the upper left corner.

“A gentleman can never be too well-read.”

“Clearly not.” You crane your neck. “‘Beauty and the Beast with Two Backs’. ‘Longsword of Love’. ‘The Wand of Wonder.’”

“Oh, that's a good one. The sequel was a poor imitation, though. ‘The Tiefling's Horn.’ Disappointing.”

“What a shame.” You squint. “‘Two Wenches, One Goblet’. What's that about?”

Gale opens his mouth, then promptly closes it. 

“Wait. Maybe don't answer that.” 

You laugh as you delve further. You remember that Gale has conjured all of these books from memory. You have no doubt that he recalls their content in exquisite detail.

“I wasn't sure whether you'd misplaced some of these. ‘Exploring the Underdark.’ ‘How to Tend Your Garden.’ ‘Studies of the Kraken.’”

Gale huffs. “I'm offended you'd think my library would be anything but impeccably arranged.”

“Ah.” You turn to face him, nuzzling into his neck. "Shall I beg for your forgiveness?”

His hands wander down your spine, over the small of your back. A violet shimmer fills the space between you. You have learned which shades you should flinch from, and which you should welcome. You cannot help but feel Gale's arousal as your own, after all. To see it displayed so clearly - it drives you wild.

“Tav,” he murmurs into your hair. “You could take a first edition of ‘Etheril’s Enchiridion of Enchanting Easements’ and burn it in a ritualistic bonfire, and I’d forgive you.”

You brush your lips over his jawline, running your thumb over the arc of his collarbone. You feel him tremble against you. 

“So you're saying I have you wrapped around my little finger.”

“Wrapped?” He tuts. “Bound and double knotted. Triple knotted, even. If you had an inkling of a desire for me to jump, I'd catapult myself to the other side of the Chionthar.”

“So…” You bite your lip. “You’d do anything I asked?”

His eyes are misted, lips curled in a sideways smile. “Within reason. But yes. There's very little I wouldn't do for you.”

You tilt your mouth to his. He opens to you without hesitation. A soft moan escapes him as he presses you against the bookshelf, enfolding you in his lavender haze.

“I’d do the same,” you whisper, before you melt into each other.

****

You stare up at the peak of your tent, flickering in the candlelight. Your bedroll feels foreign, the ground beneath you impossibly hard. You kick away your blanket with a grunt, abandoning the hope of sleep.

Should you go to him? After Elminister’s departure, you had made your feelings on Mystra's charge - and Mystra herself - abundantly clear. When you had sat with Gale, watching the sun set with his hand in yours, he had been uncharacteristically quiet. You had known, without him asking, that he needed space.

He had not been at dinner - a haphazard assortment of beans and fish heads which you were too preoccupied to taste. When you returned from a wash in the river, you thought you glimpsed the curve of his back sliding into his tent. You have not seen him since.

You imagine Gale, tossing and turning, wondering how long he has left. Sifting through his memories for triumph, and finding only despair. Convinced that his life has no meaning outside of his death. Standing at a precipice, alone.

You lunge up, darting through the slit of your tent.

He stands outside, features shadowed in the empty night. There is a weariness in his stooped frame, an exhaustion that he cannot conceal. But when your eyes meet, his face glows with unmistakable joy. He reaches for your hand.

“Come with me.”

****

“This was going to be a surprise.” 

You marvel at the illusion around you. The bed of lush grass beneath your toes, adorned with a

fine spray of daisies. The lilting forest canopy, framed by a boundless azure canvas bejewelled with stars. The sky glimmers with the most vivid shades of turquoise you have ever seen. 

In awe, you follow Gale to a clearing, where a velvet rug awaits, soft and welcoming. A billowing bouquet of peonies rests beside a basket of peaches, two glasses and a bottle of Gulthmeran Reserve. All your favourites.

You are at a loss. 

“I've been trying to make it perfect, or as close to perfect I can get, in the circumstances. It's not quite finished, but…” 

He looks down, grimacing. 

“Well, there's no time like the present.”

You step forward, resting your hands on his chest. “This is incredible, Gale. It is perfect. Beyond perfect.”

He shakes his head. “I wish I could give you more. There's so much more I would give you, if only we had time.” 

His eyes are shining. You realise that he is holding back tears. You cup his face in your hands.

“You've given me more than I've ever dreamed of. More than I could ever imagine.”

He is silent for a moment. Through the storm of your emotions, you watch the quiver of his lip, the spasm of his brow. He gestures towards the rug, arrayed with all the gifts he has prepared for you. You sit beside him, caressing the petals of a scarlet peony, rolling a honey-ripe peach around in your palm. He smiles as he watches you, a smile that puts the stars to shame.

“All of this,” you breathe. “How did you know–”

“Tav.” He chuckles, mock-chiding. “You should know by now that I'm a keen observer and a meticulous scholar, especially when you're the subject matter.”

You are not sure why you suddenly feel shy. You fiddle with his collar, the chestnut curls around his neck. He draws you closer, his legs bracketing you, the tip of his nose tingling over yours. 

“No one has ever done anything like this for me.” 

It is difficult for you to understand it. The things Gale has done, the feelings he has professed. You struggle to explain the magnitude of them all. The miracle of him.

“Then I'll do everything in my power to make up for their shortcomings.”

You stare at him for a long time. Without warning, a tear slides down your cheek. He catches it with his thumb, stilled by the admission, the implication. Your hands find his as he plants a slow, searing kiss on your forehead. In his touch, there is the warmth of home. 

“Do you remember when you said you'd do anything I asked you?” 

“Of course.” He nods. “I said what I meant.”

You know it is a risk. You know the consequences of what you are about to say. But you cannot stay silent, not after all you have been through together. Not after all you have discovered about the man he is, everything he has become to you. You cannot abide it.

“What if I asked you to trust me? To trust that we can find another way?” 

He hesitates. The lines on his face deepen, his eyes darkening.

“You don't have to die, Gale. We can fight the Absolute together.”

He jerks his head. “Tav…”

You clasp his hands against your heart. “I'm asking you to trust me. Someone who knows you. Someone who… cares deeply for you. You don't deserve this. You don't need her forgiveness. You don't have to die.”

“Tav.” His chest heaves. “What you're asking…”

“I'm asking you to live.” 

It comes out as a plea, though you had not meant it as such. It is your beating heart, held out before him - the truth laid bare, without reservation or fear. You cannot run from it any longer.

“I love you, Gale.”

The words are everything, yet not enough. Perhaps love cannot capture the hunger you feel for him, frantic and insatiable, the desperate ache that possesses you whenever he is near. The candle he has lit inside you, illuminating the world with a wonder you have never known. A steady tide, washing over everything within and around you, making all things new.

A thousand feelings stream across his features as a comet soars through the sky. And as he surges forward, clutching you against him like a lifeline, you recognise the promise that is sealed between your skin.

“I love you too.”

His tongue is tender at first, almost reverent as it slides against yours. Your mouths move slowly, savouring each other like the richest banquet, the finest wine. But when his hands roam under your robe to palm your breasts, when your fingers weave under his waistband to grasp his need, all is lost.

You had imagined this, the minute Elminster calmed the orb. The implications had been immediately clear to you. But all that had fallen to the wayside in the face of Gale's suffering and grief. Now, as Gale’s chest flares to the rhythm of his juddering breaths, you are unleashed. 

Suddenly, all you want is his skin on yours. He tears your robe off with a ferocity that makes you whimper. You wrench his tunic off, shoving his breeches and briefs down in a frenzy. He rolls his tongue around your nipple, sucking it roughly into his mouth. As you arch into him, you tighten your grip around his shaft. He gasps, digging into your ass as you begin to pump.

“Wait,” you think you hear. But he is lapping wet whirls on your areola, parting your soaked panties to find your fire. You can feel the veins twitching on his girth as his fingers flutter into your cleft. You grind into his hand with a whine. 

When he draws back abruptly, your first instinct is to check the orb. Before, that indigo blaze would have been a warning. But Gale's eyes are wide with desire, not clenched with pain.

With a low murmur, he flicks his wrist. A crackle of blue thread bends in the air. He rises, lifting you up into his arms. 

“A gesture towards your comfort.” 

You gape at the four poster bed that has appeared behind you, its violet canopy and silk sheets. You look back at Gale, incredulous. 

“Are you telling me that all this time, you've had this in your back pocket, and we've been messing around in your bedroll?” 

Gale dips his head, half amused, half sheepish. His hands meander down your curves, distracted, insistent. You lean into his touch.

“Maintaining an illusion like this requires concentration. Concentration I was devoting to making sure the orb didn't take out a small city every time you and I were having a…particularly heated interchange.”

“I see.” 

You run your fingers over the scar of the orb, sunken into Gale's skin. It pulses, cold as metal in winter. Tentatively, you bend down to dart your tongue over its edges, lingering over the bruise in its centre. You can taste the static as Gale sucks in a breath.

“And you won't have a problem maintaining concentration now?” 

His voice is strained, but his eyes glint. “I won't now.”

You gasp as he pulls you onto the bed, his cock stiff against your belly as you straddle him. You wet your lips as you skim his beaded head with your thumb. His head falls between your breasts as he shivers violently against you.

“That remains to be seen.”

When you slide off his lap, he makes a muffled sound, reaching for you. You hold his gaze as you roll his briefs and breeches down and off, caressing the exquisite muscles of his thighs, the arcs of his strong calves. As you settle between his legs, the smell of his sweat and arousal fills your senses, heady as a drug. Gale tenses in anticipation as you look up, his length twitching against your cheek. 

He swallows.

You plunge his cock into your mouth. His back bows as he bites back a whine, the bed quaking beneath you. He is hard, so hard, and the warm silk of his shaft glides against your tongue like butter. You ache with a throbbing, swelling fire at the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you, stretching you wide as you take him deeper and deeper. You want nothing more than to gorge yourself on him.

“Gods above…Tav… Gods…”

You are wild with the sounds of Gale's pleasure as he writhes to the rhythm of your mouth. You move faster, firmer, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his girth. Spit spills down your chin and neck, and you keen as his cock thrusts against the back of your throat. You can feel the bud of your desire thrumming against your folds, bursting for release. 

“Gods, you're incredible…that feels incredible…Tav…. ”

Arousal trickles down your thigh as you hum in approval. He is surging, impossibly stiff against your flurrying tongue. Tears prickle at your eyes as you continue to pump, losing yourself to his pleasure. 

“Tav.” He clutches for you, frantic. 

The tightness of his grip stills you. You slow for an instant to look at him. His brow is twisted, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. The orb pulses like a heartbeat. A sheen of sweat ripples on his abdomen, glittering on the damp down of his skin. His beauty is maddening. Dizzying.

He springs up, pinning you beneath him. Your eyes roll back at the force of his weight grinding down into you, the stark demand of him. His hair is a tousled curtain around your faces, his chest rubbing against your nipples as you pant. 

“Did you not like it?” Your hips cant up, desperate for more of him. 

“I loved it. Too much, in fact,” he rasps. “I didn't want this evening to come to a premature end.”

You can feel his cock, steely and determined as it nestles into you. Your flesh burns in every place he touches. His musk is a haze, blurring every boundary, making you one. You are struggling to think, to speak.

“How considerate,” you manage.

“I'm nothing if not thoughtful.” 

He begins at your neck – that secret nook just below your ear. A discovery he had made on one of the first nights, when you had come undone beneath his hungry mouth, a mewling mass of nerves. He has remembered ever since. 

He rolls his tongue across your skin, teasing it between his plush lips. You shiver as he licks a tantalising trail of kisses down your collarbone, between your breasts, around your navel. He hums as he peels off your panties, drenched with your arousal. Your legs quiver as he spreads you wide, firm fingers edging into the sensitive flesh of your thighs. You whine at the wet sound of your folds opening to him, the hot puffs of his words over your bulging clit.

“You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this.” His voice is low and hoarse. Ravenous.

“I have some idea.”

You can barely breathe. The smirk on his lips sends a shudder through you.

“You have no idea.”

You let out a needy cry as he drags his tongue through your folds. He tastes you slowly, painstakingly, savouring every inch and corner of you. With every messy swipe, every moan that spurts from him, your back arches, your thighs lifting higher as Gale pushes into you, devouring you like a man starved.

“Gods,” he murmurs, and you think you might explode at the flick of his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven.”

You have no words, only a whimper. You will not last. Every fibre of your being condenses into the throbbing ache under his tongue. As he begins to draw small, swift circles around your fire, sparks spasm up your spine, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. His groans vibrate against your swollen centre, his nails digging into your thighs. His beard chafes against your flesh with a friction that gathers like a flaming coil inside you. You clench at the sheets, your toes curling with mounting ecstasy.

“Gale…Gods… Gale, I’m going to–”

He hums again. Even in the midst of your unravelling, you can hear his appreciation, his pride at having uncovered another mystery, another key to your undoing. His eager, plump lips close around your desire, his tongue flat and snug against you. He sucks at your clit with a loud, slapping sound, and you throw your head back as your last nerve snaps.

Blinding pleasure jolts through you in waves, shattering your every sense and thought. Incoherent sounds tumble out of you, your hips jerking frenetically as Gale continues to feast. He does not stop, even as you keen and bend beneath him, even as your climax erupts from you in bursts of sweet release. You have never come so quickly or so hard.

Overwhelmed by sensation, frenzied from it, you twitch and flinch, thighs clamping around his head  as he holds you down. You cannot take any more. As you lurch up onto your elbows, his eyes meet yours, fully dilated, drunk with bliss. You reach for him helplessly. 

“Gale,” you plead. “Come here. Please.”

He lingers, lapping up your delight in long, sloppy stripes, greedy for every last drop of you. When he rises, you can see streaks of your slickness glistening on his beard and chin. You tremble as he licks his lips. 

You lunge for him, wild with want. Your mouths meet again in their furious dance, your taste thick on his tongue. You are closer than you have ever been, your bodies flush against each other, the sweat on his skin mingling with your own. He presses your arms down above your head, his fingers entwining with yours as you groan into each other. 

“I need you.” Your hips roll against his, his cock jostling against your folds. It is anguish, your yearning to be filled by him, to be eaten whole. “I need you inside me. Please.”

You do not need to ask twice. You can feel the pounding of Gale’s heart, the billow of lust in his dark eyes. There is no more reserve, no trace of deliberation. When your legs part to welcome him, he makes a sound you have never heard before, all gentleness lost in the urge to consume you. He notches himself at your entrance, coating himself with your slick. With one rough thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, and you almost scream from the delicious drag of his cock against your aching walls.

“Gods,” he pants. “Tav…Gods… you feel…Tav….”

Your calves clench around his waist as he plunges into you, an erratic, gasping rhythm of wet, slapping skin. You flutter around his girth as he drives into you again and again, splitting you open then filling you to bursting. He releases your hands to cup your cheek, crushing his forehead against yours, and you cannot catch the words that stream from his lips, only his raw and wanton need. Your fingers fist into his tangled waves as you pull him closer. 

“Gale.” Your entire being quakes beneath him, for him. “I love you.”

His brow steeples as he clasps your face, eyes shimmering with awe and exertion. He kisses you like it is his last night alive, taking what is left of your breath away.  The world around you swirls into a purple storm as he pumps faster and faster, hips snapping with dizzying force. Your head rolls back, your eyes shuttering in rapture as he thrusts into the deepest parts of you over and over again. 

“Tav.” His thumb pushes into your moaning mouth. “Look at me.”

You obey. As your tongue twists around his questing finger, you look at him with all the love and longing within you, every inch of you that cannot get enough of him. His eyes are bright as summer earth, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. You can feel the tremors through his muscles, the convulsions of his gut, as he nears the peak of his climax. 

“I love you,” he whispers.

The orb flashes like an eruption of stars, the bed flickering in a chaos of colours. For an instant, you are floating in a lavender sea, drifting in the abyss of the night. With a final, keening stroke, he spills himself inside you. You whimper against each other, writhing through the aftershocks, a convulsion of shared breath and flesh. And as you lie on the bed he has made for you, with his arms around you and his warmth inside you, you wonder how you will ever part from him again.

****

You are curled on his chest, tracing the peaks and valleys of his body, studying the fine dust of hair over his flushed skin. His touch roams, tender and earnest, mapping the topography of your being, every dip and dune of your drowsy, sated flesh. Cocooned in him, cloaked in a passion that goes far beyond need, you feel a peace you have never felt before. You know, in an inexplicable way, that he feels it too.

He huffs, that quiet laugh you have come to love so much. You draw back to look at him. 

“What?”

He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours.  “Nothing. Just thinking. Marvelling, really.”

His lips graze your forehead as he pulls you close again. You nestle into him with a contented hum.

“At what?”

He chuckles, drawing languid circles over your hip bone, the curves of your thigh, the dimples on your back. 

“The miracle of serendipity that brought you into my life. What fortune, what divine calculus, what wondrous confluence of circumstances…”

You pause, drinking in the joy that radiates in every lilt of his speech, every dance of his features. The love that burns in every part of him, pure as sunlight, fierce as life.

“A perfect storm.”

Gale stares at you. The grin that bursts on his face thrums with pride, a glee that would be ridiculous were it not so endearing. You laugh through the sprinkling of kisses that he peppers all over your face, a whirlwind of affection that floods your heart. 

“My love,” he sighs, as his lips find yours. “I couldn't have said it better.”

********

A/N: Not wanting to blue-ball everyone after 'A Generous Portion', I decided to write a conclusion to this saga - but what I didn't realise was that I was going to end up rewriting the whole of Gale's romance in Act 1 and Act 2...

This is what I imagine happened if instead of the Weave scene, Gale and Tav were locked in a room together.

I tried to stay true to the canon as much as I could, with the orb, call backs, Elminster's visit and such. Most of all I wanted to capture a romance with Gale that begins with an explosion of passion / physical attraction, and then deepens into love.

I hope you enjoyed it! I am forever grateful for your support, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and comments <3

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

[purple-plum-petals]

⊱ What It’s Like Cuddling with Him ⊰ || Mr. Gap Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): None! Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~590 words. Request: “Please I've been dying for content 😔 can I get uhhhh mr.gap content plz ?? I can't stop thinking about him popping up between ur blankets on you. Love ur homicipher stuff so far btw 🩷” Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the kind words! I’ve been enjoying writing for the fandom, too. Everyone has been so incredibly supportive, and that just means the world to me as a writer who never thinks their work is good enough. I love you, Homicipher fandom. 😭🫶 I went ahead and did headcanons about how Mr. Gap would be as a cuddle buddy since you mentioned the scene of him popping up between the blankets (and because they’re a lot easier to crank out than full-on drabbles haha). I hope you enjoy!  

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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🕳️: The first time Mr. Gap surprised you by suddenly appearing under the covers, you nearly died of a heart attack right then in there before scolding him to never do that again. He simply rolled his eyes at you, calling you boring before disappearing into the void once again. He never did stop like you had asked him to which, honestly, wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Eventually, you got used to his sudden presence to the point where it didn’t startle you as horribly as it used to (much to his disappointment). 

🕳️: Even if you don’t get startled by his appearance as often as you used to, that doesn’t mean you never get scared when he suddenly pops up. He enjoys spooking you, smiling widely whenever you gasp or let out a shriek when he lunges at your face from under the sheets like an alligator shooting out of the water to grab unsuspecting prey in its maws. He leaves with a chuckle if you smack or try to hit him, vanishing before you can do any damage. Your reactions are funny to him, and he enjoys being able to get a rise out of you. 

🕳️: You eventually become fed up with him and ask him with a huff if he wants to cuddle after lifting your covers and seeing his face in the darkness underneath, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He grimaces and asks you what that even means, not familiar with the term. After explaining it to him as best as you could considering the language barrier, his semi-disgusted expression doesn’t change, and he leaves faster than it took you to blink. This continues for a while, you ask him with a smirk if he wants to cuddle with you which successfully manages to chase the trickster away (you just have to threaten him with physical affection... good information to know).

🕳️: However, one day, Mr. Gap doesn’t leave after your half-hearted threat. He stays and stares up at you with a blank look on his face before, to your shock, agrees to cuddle with you. It’s strange laying in bed with a ghost that doesn’t have a body in the conventional sense, his head resting on your chest while his arms rest limply at your sides (he usually doesn’t hold you back, instead laying on you like a dead fish). While you can feel the presence of a form on top of you, whenever you try to catch a glimpse, you cannot see anything resembling a body underneath the covers. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, though, and he reminds you of a weighted blanket. 

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t move or make much noise whenever you two are cuddling, an occurrence that has become more frequent as time goes on. He isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, but he finds himself not minding the way your hands feel threading through his hair or the sound of your beating heart while his ear is pressed against your chest. The noise is strangely comforting... 

🕳️: If you inquire about his lack of commentary, he looks up at you and smirks, asking if you would give him your heart. You just tell him no with a smile since you were used to his questions at this point and close your eyes, your hands returning to combing out in knots in his black locks without another word… He kind of hates how he doesn’t find himself disgusted by your touch, and he can’t help but wonder why that is. 

[alotofpockets]

Confidence | 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Summary: Reneé asks you to come to her first day off shooting Mean Girls to give her the confidence she needs to play Regina George. (based on this scene)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut

Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.2k

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Reneé usually didn’t have a problem with showing off her body, she was proud of the way she looked, and often showed the world her confident side. She wore revealing outfits all the time, and never really gave a care in the world what others thought about her appearance. However, as the first day of shooting Mean Girls came closer, she started getting more and more nervous about portraying this confident character in front of the cameras.

Of course, Reneé had played Regina before, and knew the character well, but in front of the cameras it was different. On stage she got into character and played the part in front of a lot of people, but they were all sitting at a distance, and observed not only her but also the rest of the set around her. On set the cameras and the crew would be focussed on her playing the character the way they had envisioned her, of course they did the same for the other actors there, but the scene she was most worried about was Regina’s opening scene. 

It didn’t take much convincing on your girlfriend’s end to get you to join her on set for the first day of shooting. You loved supporting her in person whenever you were able to. Supporting her didn’t just mean her music and her acting, you supported her in every aspect of life, and she did the same for you, that is why your relationship worked so well. 

While it was an early call, Reneé still took some time to show you around the set. You hadn’t been to the Mean Girls set yet, and were looking at everything full of amusement. When you were younger, you had watched the original, and you always loved the movie, so seeing the set of the remake made you feel very nostalgic.

You sat to the side as Reneé was getting ready in the hair and make-up trailer, talking with her costars and the hair and make-up team. It was nice getting to know the girls she’d be working with for the next couple of months. 

Before you headed to the set they’d be shooting at this morning, you took Reneé to the side. “I just wanted to say that you are amazing, and you look incredible. You are going to crush this scene, and every scene after. You are the perfect Regina George, and I cannot wait to see the lines we rehearsed together come to life. I love you, baby. Have fun out there, and I will be right behind the crew supporting you.” Reneé pecked your lips, “You’re the best, but shush now or you’re going to make me cry.” You both laugh, and head into the hall the scene would be shot in. 

They were shooting the scene where Cady met Regina for the first time to the song ‘Meet the Plastics’. It included a close up shot of Reneé signing the song, while the camera slowly panned out, revealing more of her. It took a few takes to get the close up right, but when the crew was happy with the results, they moved on to the part that Reneé was most nervous about. It was a shot where she would sensually open her leather jacket and show off her boobs.

The first few takes were cut, “Reneé can you give us a try with some more confidence please?” The director asked and she nodded in response. Reneé looked up to you for some reassurance, and found you clenching your thighs together. You hid it well, no one else around you would notice, but Reneé knew. That familiar look in your eyes, and the subtle movements, she knew all too well. That sight alone gave her the confidence she needed to act the scene exactly how the directors had in mind. 

Once the scene was done, and Reneé had quickly said bye to her co-workers she walked up to you, “I knew having you here would do the trick. Wanna head back to my trailer?” Reneé wouldn’t be in the next couple of scenes they were shooting, so she had some free time. She knew just the way she wanted to spend that free time. 

After entering the trailer door behind you, Reneé pressed you up against it. Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, but a smirk started playing on your lips once you saw the look in your girlfriend’s eyes. “I told you you looked incredible.” You tease, letting your hand drag over her chest. When your hands found the zipper, you undid it the rest of the way, and took off the jacket. Your hands moved up her arms slowly until they reached the nap of her neck. “You are so beautiful, baby.” You tell her before she crashes her lips onto yours.

The kiss was instantly heated, you were very turned on from watching the scene Reneé acted in, so every small touch of your girlfriend letting her hands explore your body sent electricity throughout your body. Her lips made their way down your neck, kissing, sucking, and licking the spots you knew were going to have small bruises later. Your soft moans filled the trailer.

Reneé pulled you towards the bed in the back of the trailer. Only breaking the kiss, once you made it to the bed, so she could take off your shirt, and your bra. “So pretty.” She said before taking one of your nipples into her mouth, and swirling her tongue around the hardened bud. With one of your hands behind her back to pull her closer, and the other massaging her breasts, you fell back onto the bed. 

It didn’t take long for both of your clothes to be thrown onto the ground, and your moans filled the trailer once more, as Reneé drags her finger through your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” Between moans you manage to say, “I told you, you looked incredible.” Reneé chuckled, “Once again proving that you are a boob girl.” Her comment made you laugh, but it got caught short as she entered one of her fingers into you, and started fucking you at a fast pace right away. 

Your moans start to get so loud that you’re afraid that someone will hear you, so you pull Reneé closer and crash your lips together to muffle the noises. You felt yourself nearing your high fast, as she entered a second finger, and used her thumb to run circles around your clit. “Baby, I-” Reneé’s darkened eyes meet yours, “Fuck, I’m close.” Reneé fastens her pace even more, loving the way she can feel you tighten around her fingers. “Come for me, baby.” Her sultry voice brings you over the edge. You moan her name loudly, no longer being able to control yourself as she fucks you through your orgasm. 

You let your head fall back onto the bed, while you come down from your high with a heaving chest. Reneé cleans off her fingers on the sheets, before she places soft kisses all over your face. “You did so great, baby. I should take you to set with me more often.” She says smiling down at you, admiring the way your sensitive body reacts to her soft touches. 

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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[joicecubes]

hey guess who’s absolutely losing it over the stan twins again (spoiler alert its me)

so i was innocently scrolling tiktok when i was introduced to this DIABOLICAL au idea: firstly, what if ford really had shot stan with his crossbow when stan first showed up at the shack? and secondly, what if ford tried to bring him back to life frankenstein-style? (full credit to tiktok user @44boora for this idea, go check their account for some gut-wrenching art) (also… full post below the cut this got long)

but like i was thinking about this, ford bringing stan back to life specifically, and how dependent the concept is on this specific time in his life. i just feel like any other time and under any other circumstance, ford would have been able to, eventually, accept stan’s death. we see it at the end of weirdmageddon, where ford is ready to accept that the stan they all know and love is gone now that his memory has been erased. he tells mabel as much, and only realizes there’s hope for him when mabel is determined enough to push back against ford’s logic. ford believes very intensely in his own perception of the world. he believes in science. theoretically, he believes death is death, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

but then, think of ford after he’s been betrayed by bill. this ford is at his absolute lowest. he can’t trust his own perception of the world anymore. he’s seen the truth of what their relationship was and the horrors he was so close to unleashing on their universe. he is desperate to right his wrongs. he’s losing sleep, his body is abused every time he closes his eyes, and the end of the world as he knows it is iminent if he doesn’t succeed in making the portal as secure and unusable as possible without dismantling it entirely. the only person he believes he can trust after everything that’s happened is stan. so he contacts him for help, and in his time waiting for him to arrive, cannot stop thinking of the worst-case scenario: that bill could still be coming for him. so when he opens the door to stan, his high-strung, paranoid brain doesn’t see stan, and he shoots.

he shoots his own brother with a crossbow and kills him.

ford is not usually one to blatantly ignore a scientific fact. again, death is death, and there’s nothing he can do about that. and yet, in a state of such intense grief, when his entire world is already close to crumbling around him and he’s holding his dead brother in his arms, there’s nothing else he can feasibly do but deny. so he does.

he lives in denial of a lot of things. that stan’s death is final, obviously, but also his reasonings for attempting to do the impossible and revive him. ford likes to believe he operates purely on logic, so he tells himself he’s doing this because he has to. without stan, he can’t prevent bill from entering their universe. he’s still the only person ford can trust, so reviving him is another step in his ultimate goal of stopping bill and saving the world. it doesn’t matter that its never been done before, ford will do it anyway. and he believes that he can, because as much as he thinks he’s moved on from his hubris, he’s still acting off the assumption that he’s special. he’s so far ahead of everybody else, so naturally, if anybody could accomplish the impossible and bring stan back from the dead, its ford.

and so he denies that the real reason he’s trying to save stan is not a logical one. he denies that he’s running entirely on emotions. it would be foolish to try something so risky and impossible and time-consuming if he were only doing it because of his crushing guilt and decade-long yearning, so he tells himself there’s so much more to it than that. he can’t just be doing this because he loves him, right? he’s not that shallow. he’s not that desperate.

and yet, he is. because as much as ford wants to deny it, he can’t live without stan. he can’t live with the knowledge that he was responsible for stan’s death. if he didn’t succeed, his grief would surely kill him.

[twola]

If At First

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

I’ve had this one cooking for a while. This is definitely projection, and written for those of you (like me) who didn’t have a softie of a cowboy to guide you and take care of you through your first time. Let’s rehash some trauma from twenty years ago!

If you had only known the way to get Arthur to pay attention to you was half a bottle of whiskey and entertaining marks in a crowded saloon, you would have done this years ago. But no, you’ve been pining away for him like some lovesick girl, watching him come and go, completely aloof to your infatuation. He's always been pleasant, noble even - for an outlaw, he’s the closest thing to a gentleman you’ve seen in your life. 

You had jumped at his request to go into town - he had mentioned there was a glut of gullible men just waiting to be pickpocketed by a pretty girl. 

But now, now, there was enough booze in his system and aggravation in his blood that he stole you away from your third mark of the night, pulling you straight out of the man’s lap as you flirted shamelessly to lighten his wallet.

Arthur, gruff, rough, lonesome Arthur pulls you toward the back of the saloon against your yelping and questioning until he pushes you against the wall before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I can’t watch you in any other man’s lap no more.”

A full-body shiver shoots straight through you to your cunt.

“Upstairs. Now. You ain’t gonna be in anyone’s arms but mine.”

Your heart is beating a thousand miles an hour. The two of you stumble up the stairs, his greedy hands all over your body - grabbing your ass, squeezing your waist, fingertips digging into the fabric. At the landing halfway up the stairs, he turns toward him and catches your lips, you cannot help but moan into his mouth - this, this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with a man. You feel the long, hard line of him against you and you shiver with anticipation when he pushes you again to finish the climb up the stairs and down the hall to the room procured.

The door slams behind him and he immediately pulls at his gunbelt, unwinding it from his hips and letting it fall to the floor. Two large hands on your hips push you toward the bed. You whine into his mouth and he groans in return.

“Get on your knees on the bed, girl.” He grits out as he feverishly pushes his suspenders down his corded arms.

You hike your skirts up and shimmy your bloomers to the floor, stepping out of them as he grabs you, spins you around, and walks you the three steps to the bed before pushing you to climb upon it. 

You catch yourself from falling completely, but Arthur’s greedy hands hoist your skirts up and over your hips, baring your rear and cunt completely to him as you’re bent over on your hands and knees on the hotel bed.

A swipe of his fingers against your core finds you wet, and you shiver against his touch. He grunts in approval and you hear the rustle of his pants as he desperately digs his cock out. You can hear him spit into his palm and the slap of skin on skin.

Oh god, oh god, this was happening, it’s happening.

One big hand of his grabs your hip, and you shudder when you feel the tip of his cock press against your folds, swiping up, down, then finally catching at the rim of your cunt. His hand leaves his cock and moves to your bare skin.

“Been thinkin’ bout this more than I’d like to admit.” Arthur hoarsely whispers as he squeezes your hips. 

You want to scream that you’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and you for a moment wish he would turn you over so that you could see him.

The head of his cock presses inside you.

You yelp into the pillow. He moans aloud as he continues pressing in, a force of muscle that can’t be stopped.

Oh, it burns. It hurts. Each inch of him he insistently presses inside you feels like he’s tearing you apart. He’s big, he’s so big. You bite down on your lip hard to stifle the yelp of pain that wants to escape you, but you cannot help the watering over of your eyes as he works himself in until his hips press against your rear.

Tears drop to the pillow beneath you as you grip it tightly between your fingers.

Unaware, Arthur hisses in pleasure, “Shit- you’re goddamn tight-”

As he pulls out to fuck into you again, he gazes down to his cock reappearing out from your body.

He frowns.

A faint red ring of blood encircles the base of him.

“You still bleedin’ from your monthlies? Y’alright?” He rubs at your hip gently.

And at that show of gentleness, of affection, the sob that you’d been holding back under gritted teeth wrenches its way out your throat. Arthur pulls himself immediately from you, causing you to gasp out in pain again, and his hands are all over you. Soft, gentle, reassuring.

He turns you so you are lying on your back in the bed, in the tangle of your skirts, he pulls them down to cover you.

“Honey- honey what’s wrong?”

You sniffle, eyes averted from his gaze and he comes to a realization. 

“Jesus-” he immediately tucks his still-hard cock back into his trousers and moves to sit on the bed next to you, reclining back enough to brush a wayward hair from your cheek, “You ain’t never done this before, have you?”

Ashamed, you squeeze your eyes shut over the next round of tears and nod your head.

“Shit - Christ, what a bastard I am.”

Your eyes shoot open and you clutch at him as you feel him go to sit up from his reclined position. Weaving your hands into his workshirt, you bury your head into his barrel chest. 

“No, no - no, please, I’ve ruined it all,” You cry, mortified, heartbroken. He’s all you’ve ever wanted and now he’s going to leave you and- “I w-want you so much-h, I've wanted you for so long.”

“Sweetheart, I ain't gonna hurt you.” He draws his fingers through the hair at the crown of your head.

You shake your head into his chest, “Arthur, please.”

Arthur pauses, one of his hands pressing against your upper back, holding you to him.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple. You nod, still clutching at his shirt, as if he were to disappear if you were to let go.

“C’mere, sweet thin’.” 

He leans over you and the two of you roll over until you’re on your back beneath him. Looming over you, he shimmies his pants down his hips to rest on his thighs. 

“But-” You pipe up as he climbs atop you again, his hard, long cock bobbing with his movement. He moves to gather your skirts up again, baring your cunt to him. 

“Ain’t gonna go inside. I’ll take care of ya-” Arthur looks down at you and you nod meekly, fully opening your legs to him. He presses your hips together and your breath catches as his cock settles between your folds. A roll of his hips and-

“Oh-”

A rumbling laugh comes from his chest as fondness exudes from his being. “Y’ like that?”

Another roll of his hips. His length pressed against all parts of you - against your weeping opening, against the hooded bundle of nerves that makes you keen.

You're unable to answer him in words, your breathing heavy with each slide of his length against you. Your hands grab greedily at his shirt.

Your arousal overflows. With those gentle thrusts against you, Arthur’s cock becomes coated in your wetness- along with both of your inner thighs. He grunts as his wet skin slides along yours. 

“Ar-Arthur-” you whine, pawing at his shirt. He pushes himself up to sit on his knees and starts to unbutton his shirt, looming atop you. His cock, blood darkened and steel hard, weeps from the tip, a testament to his own want.

“Lean up f’r me.” His voice is rough as he sheds his workshirt and tosses it to the floor. As if magnetic, your hands are drawn up to his chest, broad and hard, his pale skin dotted with scars.

“C’mon, darlin’,” Arthur urges, and you sit up as he works the buttons of your blouse open. Your shirt is peeled down your arms, and one large hand engulfs your breast through your chemise.

“I’m gonna touch you now, make it easier-” Another kiss to your temple, “You tell me if it hurts, alright?”

He pulls your skirts up to pool them around your waist. You nod and lean up to kiss him. You open your mouth to his and your tongues press together as his thick trigger finger slides in between your folds, tracing the seam of your body until he comes upon your opening. 

Arthur slowly, gently, presses inside. You moan, deep from your throat, as he slides his finger in and out of you, his thumb brushing against that bundle of nerves. 

Time is irrelevant. All that you can feel in the world is the rocking of his hand into you, all that you can hear is the rough timbre of his voice muttering into your hair - good girl, that’s it, gettin’ ready f’r me.

You're barely coherent when he pulls his hand from between your legs and starts to undo the ties of your skirts around your waist.

Arthur yanks your skirts down, and you shimmy your hips to allow him to pull the fabric from your body. His greedy hands do not stop there: your cotton chemise gets tossed over the side of the bed, leaving you lying nude atop the sheets, laid out for his hungry eyes to devour.

“Want to try again?”

“Yes, yes please-” you beg as you sit up. You see a half smirk cross his face as he fiddles with his trousers, his arousal not one bit lessened. He stands up and shoves his pants and drawers to the floor before returning to the bed, the both of you completely bare.

“Arthur -” You whisper meekly as he settles himself once again between your legs, pumping his cock. He notches the head of his cock at the rim of your cunt, and pauses, finding your gaze.

“Don’t worry, ‘m gonna treat you right, sweetheart.”

And he presses inside. You’re still sensitive from before, and your nails dig into his biceps as he litters kisses upon your brow with each inch of himself he gently works into you.

“A-Arthur-” you crane your head up to look down between you, to where your bodies meet. Down your heaving bosom and soft belly to the cradle of your hips, where your legs spread around him. Down his chest, following the trail of dark wiry hair from his navel to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock. Curls pressed up against your own, all of him sheathed inside of you.

“Like seein’ that?” He chuckles fondly, placing another kiss on your forehead as he joins you, gazing upon where your bodies meet.

It’s like you’ve been struck dumb, all you can do is nod and close your eyes as your head hits the pillow again. Being filled with him - it’s, it’s everything. All the things you dreamed of alone in your bedroll at night - they could not possibly measure to the real thing. 

Arthur lowers himself to his forearms, covering you with all of him. You feel small beneath him, all six feet of muscle and sinew, but being so engulfed makes you feel warm and wanted. Shielded off from the world, if only for this moment.

Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out of your mouth as you clutch at him, afraid to let him go.

“Please don’t let this be only once.” You whisper as you squeeze your eyes shut, afraid of the heartbreak of him leaving you once he’s gotten what he’s wanted from you. 

“Look at me.” His hand tips your chin up and you are forced to look him in those river-blue eyes of his.

“You’re gonna move your things into my tent when we get back,” he orders, and rolls his hips in a full and heady thrust, your breath escapes you as you swear you feel him in your guts.

“And you’re gonna be in my cot, beneath me every night.”

“Arthur -” You gasp as he continues, starting to fuck you with the force you knew his body contained. You're smothered in him - his broad chest brushing up on yours, his muscled arms caging you in - his narrowed waist and strong hips moving against yours. 

Faster, harder, more - he gives you it all, he gives you himself. He gives and gives and gives.

Your vision whites out as you wail, clenching down on him, and whilst you have come before on your own, it’s completely different with your cunt stuffed full of his flesh. It’s so much more.

“There she is, there’s my girl.” He croons, his praise melting into a groan, fisting the sheets on either side of your head as his rhythm falters, his cock pistoning in and out of you desperately as he chases his own completion.

If you thought he was handsome before, now, as you lay sated beneath him, he’s goddamn beautiful. When he comes, the lines around his eyes vanish, his jaw falls open and all of the tension in his body, all of the stress, all of the worry - it’s all released.

He groans, deep from his chest as he extracts himself from you and clutches at his cock with one hand as hot streaks of white splatter across your inner thighs, your lower belly, and in the hair of your mound. With the last drips of his release, he breathes out heavily and the relief, as fleeting as it may be, overtakes him before he collapses atop you. 

Even with his body wrung out, he doesn’t smother you with his weight but merely presses against you as he pants, his breath loud in your ear as you wind your arms around his neck. Your fingers interlace in the short ends of his hair, cradling his head to your bosom for a moment.

He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. You bury yourself into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into an inescapable embrace. 

You smile against his skin before pushing yourself up on your elbow to look him in the eye.

“When can we do that again?”

[wileys-russo]

a deals a deal II l.williamson

"where'd you find this place?" you smiled in awe as you followed leah into the arcade, the blonde not missing the ways your eyes had lit up the moment the two of you had even parked outside, exactly the reaction she'd hoped for.

it having been your girlfriends turn to organize date night leah reveled in the fact that it was already seeming to be a success before it officially started, and you had to admit the older girl knew you like the back of her hand with this choice.

with both of you working full time, leah as a footballer and you as a primary teacher you both made a commitment early on, the moment things started getting serious, that despite your hectic schedules you'd still make every effort to keep consistent with spending quality time outside of work together.

and so the weekly date nights came into effect.

they weren't always big significant events nor did they always mean the two of you left your shared home, the key takeaway was quality time and so long as the two of you were focused on one another then that was guaranteed.

"lotte put me onto it, tao brought her here on one of their first dates." leah admitted as you gasped sarcastically. "and you're not even taking the credit? oh baby i'm so proud of you!" you cooed mockingly, pinching her cheeks as the taller girl shoved you playfully, the two of you making your way to the counter.

"i'll be taking credit for all the games i'm about to smash you at my girl, don't you worry your pretty little head about that." leah smiled smugly as you rolled your eyes and she hooked you both up with a large bag of tokens, even further fueling your excitement at the fact they still ran their games the old school way, physical tickets printed and all.

"oh my love me and my pretty little head cannot wait to watch you eat your words!" you grinned in response to her call out, and given neither of you liked to lose and were incredibly competitive, it was sure to be an interesting night.

there was a reason the two of you stopped getting invites to game night with leahs family, both of you banned until you learned how to behave like well mannered young women and not hotheaded impatient numpties, in the words of her grandmother.

"well either way you can consider tonight endless tokens, if you can spend them then i will buy them gorgeous." leah promised, pecking your lips sweetly with a charming smile and offering for you to pick the first game.

"mm good question babe. what do i want to beat you at first?" you pondered, stroking your chin as leah sighed dramatically at the time you were taking, tapping her foot and shoving her hands into the pocket of her jacket with a bored look written into her features.

"oh come on!" leah groaned impatiently as you pivoted away from yet another game, amused smirk on your features as you finally stopped and nodded happily.

"basketball. lets start off simple!" you decided, grabbing your girlfriends hand and dragging her over toward the game, the blonde hurrying to yank you back as a gang of young boys sprinted past almost smashing into you, leah looking after them with a deep seeded scowl.

"hey lee, need i remind you this place is actually designed for kids baby, relax." you smiled poking at her cheeks as she huffed air out of her nose but focused her attention back on you, both of you slipping tokens into your sides as the game lit up and a strong american accent yelled out the rules.

"ready...set....go!" leah counted down as the buzzer sounded, both of you scrambling to grab the balls, zoned in on your own rings as the points started to rack up for both of you.

leah snuck a quick glance to your side, bright eyes widening in shock seeing you were in the lead and by quite a significant amount. and just as you said neither of you liked to lose, which is what lead to her next move.

"oi!" you gasped as the defender leaned over and knocked the ball out of your hand, shooting with her other, doing it again and again as you reached for the basketballs.

"leah!" you laughed at her blunt competitiveness, shoving her as the final buzzer for the game sounded and the blonde cheered victoriously, pumping her fist and doing a victory wiggle having just beat you by two points.

"you are such a cheat and a shit loser." you shook your head as leah continued her victory dance, snatching her tickets from the machine and shoving them into her pocket.

"nah i'm not, cause i didn't lose." she booped you on the nose with a token as you smacked her shoulder. "right well if you want to carry on like that. would you care to make this interesting then williamson?" you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest.

"mm perhaps, what do you have in mind for a wager pretty girl?" leah raised an eyebrow curiously, cocky smirk still curled into her features.

"if i win, you do all the dishes and the laundry for a month." you stated, leahs jaw dropping and your smile widening knowing she detested the two tasks and would often offer you anything in return for not having to do them.

"a month!? nah two weeks mate max." "aw, are you that scared you'll lose baby?" "i am not! fine, a month then."

"but if i win... then you have to do that thing i've been asking you to since christmas, with my special gift." leah cocked her head to the side, storm blue eyes roaming over your body hungrily as you frowned a little in confusion before it clicked just exactly what she was after.

both half jokingly and half seriously the blonde had gifted you a very ill fitting maids costume for christmas, stating as part of your gift to her you should spend the day wearing it, claiming it would be great motivation for her to join you in doing the housework.

you only laughed and put it away, teasing that not even that would get her to pick up a dirty dish.

but every now and then leah would find it in the back of the wardrobe and the begging would start for you to live out what was clearly a fantasy for the taller girl, and each time you'd just teasingly shake your head in amusement and depart the room with a kiss, leaving her without a real answer.

"fine, a deal's a deal." you shrugged in agreement which was clearly to your girlfriends surprise as her eyebrows shot up in shock and you extended your hand, wiggling your fingers eagerly.

"brilliant. a deals a deal." the blonde echoed as she shook your hand but not before using it to pull your body into hers, stealing a kiss and nipping at your bottom lip, pulling away with a cheeky grin as your head spun and your cheeks flushed pink.

"right, my turn to pick then. and unlike some i won't take an hour to decide!"

~

"how in the hell do you even do this? its got no bloody control!" leah huffed, the two of you sat on motorbikes as you raced around the track on the screens in front of you, the girl beside you far from getting the hang of it despite it being the second time you'd raced, leah demanding a rematch after crashing her bike and earning a loss.

"like this, winner!" you cheered loudly, pumping your fists in the air as you zoomed across the finish line sitting back smugly as leahs eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown and she smacked at the handle bars in annoyance.

"loser." you pointed to her now with a wink as she flipped you off, rings glinting in the bright neon lights above.

"maybe i should get a motorbike." you teased, turning your body as leah jumped off the bike, appearing instantly in between your legs as you stayed sitting side sadle. "over my dead body, maybe focus on learning how to drive a car first babe." leah teased making you roll your eyes, her hands settling on your thighs and squeezing them with a grin.

"i'm a great driver thank you very much." "mmm but those handful of fines in your glovebox say differently baby girl." "those are parking fines leah, not driving offences." "oh i'm so sorry. correction then not only are you a shit driver but you're an appalling parker as well, can't even be trusted when the car is stationary!" leah tutted with a dissapointed shake of her head as you punched her in the shoulder and scoffed.

"sorry let me just get a score check, whose winning?" you asked, cupping a hand over your ear and leaning toward leah whose smile dropped.

"shut up." she mumbled with a small pout as you slid off the motorbike, the two of you wandering around for a moment as leah took her time choosing.

"perfect!" the taller girl grinned spotting a football shootout game in the back corner. "and how many goals do defenders normally score?" you hummed, pretending to be lost in thought as leah slotted in some tokens and rolled her eyes.

"don't be bitter that they don't have a teaching game babe, times tables aren't exactly something kids do in their time off for fun!" leah pouted sarcastically at your chosen career, you now the one to flip her off and gesture for her to start.

"right go on then superstar, dazzle me."

you had to hide your smile behind your hand as leah missed more kicks than she scored, the game clearly designed for a child with much less leg power as every ball sailed up and over the goal.

you watched as her shots became sloppier the more wound up and angry she got, only fueling her to continue to miss time and time again. "nah this is bullshit that's rigged!" leah scowled, kicking at the machine once her turn was over and grumbling under her breath.

"leah!" you scolded, moving her away from causing actual damage as she wound up for another kick.

"hey. breathe for me please, it's just a stupid arcade game, you're still a champion of europe baby. nothing takes that away!" you grabbed at her face, placing a soft kiss to her lips and feeling her body relax somewhat.

"...its just a good thing they didn't need you for any penalties because those attempts? massive yikes." "oi thats a red card for you my girl, absolutely uncalled for!"

~

"right, this ones the final game." leah glanced at the time and announced with a clap, the two of you so caught up you'd not even realized the time and how long you'd been here.

"oh how convenient, we're tied." you rolled your eyes, not believing that the 'score card' leah had been in charge of was really all that accurate, having been typed up in notes on her phone.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" "i'm accusing you of score tampering, williamson." "no idea what on earth you're on about love, i'll even be so kind as to forfeit my turn so that you choose our last game." "wow, and they say chivalry is dead?"

"mmm that one." you nodded to a shooting game in the corner you'd not yet tried, leah humming in agreement as you made your way over. "was that your stomach?" you asked in disbelief hearing a loud gurgle.

"yes! i'm fucking starving." leah moped with a huff, earning herself an unimpressed look from a mother standing at the next game with her two young kids, you smacking leah lightly and mumbling about her language.

"sorry miss." your girlfriend teased with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes and gestured for her to take her turn. the gunner shot down 8 tin ducks out of 12 and shrugged, seemingly happy with her efforts.

"beat that, four eyes." leah smirked, flicking at your ear as you smacked away her hands and shot her a dirty look.

you only wore your glasses when you were using your laptop, reading or occasionally when teaching, and as much as leah found you utterly adorable in them the english captain also would never miss an opportunity to rib you about your poor eyesight.

"happily, noodle legs." you quipped back with a smile, grabbing the gun as leah mocked you under her breath and ordered for you to hurry up as her stomach rumbled again.

closing one eye you balanced the toy gun on your arm as the game commenced, shooting down six ducks with ease, a few more to go and you'd win still with plenty of time left to do so.

however as you placed your finger on the trigger, the timer counting down from ten, a set of hands wrapped themselves around your waist, one hand in particular slipping up the inside of your top and harshly squeezing at one of your boobs.

in shock at the unexpected touch you squeezed the trigger and dropped the toy gun, missing the ducks by a mile as the timer went off and leah's hands suddenly disappeared, your skin burning where they'd once been.

"oh that is so not fair! you. are. a. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. little cheat." you protested with a growl, turning on your heel to glare towards a smug looking leah, poking at her chest angrily with each word.

"i simply do not know what you're talking about gorgeous, i guess your aim was just off. and that is not my fault!" the blonde simply smiled cockily, knowing she'd now won.

though sensing your rapidly growing annoyance leah reached for your hand, pulling your body into hers and stepping the two of you in between two pinball machines, briefly tucked away from sight.

"leah catherine williamson you are an unbearably bad loser, a big child, bad mannered, short tempered and-" not even giving you the time to finish your sentence the taller girl cut you off by bringing your lips together, pressing your body against the arcade wall.

leahs hands settled themselves on your hips tucked away under her jacket you'd stolen from her earlier in the night, the defender slowly swiping her tongue against your bottom lip, taking control of the kiss as your arms wrapped around the back of her neck, tangling themselves in her recently chopped short blonde locks.

though before the two of you got any further carried away someone winning a game meant a loud siren went off behind you, the two of you jumping away from one another in shock at the abrupt noise of the machines, sharing a look before breaking out into soft laughter.

"come on hangry, lets go get you some food then." you smiled with a sigh as leahs stomach rumbled yet again, previous annoyance melting away as it always did when it came to the mischievous footballer you were head over heels for.

"no i think we should head home, i'm hungry for something else now." leah murmered quietly, thumb stroking your jaw, lips curling into a smug smile at how your cheeks flushed scarlet at her suggestive tone.

"plus i think you're due for a little outfit change baby girl. a deal's a deal and you're nothing short of a woman of your word, right?"

[synthetickitsune]

Jeonghan (SVT) | Wedding Cake fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader

You really won’t do it, right? You recall asking the question about a week ago, remember your teeth sinking into your lip and shaky breathing. You felt bad about asking then, and you feel the same shame now. There is no reason to ask, nor to doubt, afterall. Jeonghan would never hurt you intentionally. His teasing and pranks are all for entertainment, curated carefully to whoever is their victim, so no harm is caused, no damage done that can’t be fixed with a hug and his loving smile.

The same smile is deeper, fonder, all the more blinding now as Jeonghan looks at you from just a couple steps away. He looks so handsome in his suit, a tiny flower in his breast pocket. It doesn’t look as pretty as it did in the morning - no surprise there, you expected it’d become his emotional support item for the day. You caught him fidgeting with it a few times. But your eyes barely linger on the petals before you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes. Your husband’s eyes. 

Your heart beats just a little faster. The label is still so new and exciting. This is the man you chose to marry, to spend the rest of your life with. You trust him, you know he’d never hurt you. The gentle and loving look in his eyes makes you fall in love with him again. It usually soothes you in an instant, but your anxiety is fueled by the number of people in the room, by the atmosphere, and you know how quickly his gaze can turn from gentle to playful.

It’s time. You close the short distance between you and let him pull you closer by the waist, feel some nerves calm down when he kisses your cheek and smiles at you.

The cake in front of you is what you dreamed of. It’s beautiful and the decorations are cute, yet your stomach also twists slightly. Everything and everyone is in place. Jeonghan picks up the knife and you follow his lead, wrapping your hand around the handle too. You hear the camera shutter click a few times and get a little conscious of your expression. What face are you making? You’re not sure, but you think you’re smiling because your husband is holding you close and you can feel his heart beating fast where his chest presses a little against your shoulder.

The cake is cut, and suddenly your mouth feels dry. You watch in slow motion as Jeonghan’s hand moves towards the cake and you close your eyes, blink for just a second longer than you should. Thousand mortifying scenarios run through your head. Your clothes ruined, your hair dirty with cake, your face a mess. You keep your eyes closed for another second. There’s a little smudge of something cold and wet on your lips.

You open your eyes and try to look down, but there are gentle fingers on your chin and chuckling Jeonghan who pulls you into a sweet kiss. Sweet as in literally sweet. You can taste the icing from the cake. Laughing into the kiss, you pull your husband closer before pulling away. You touch your lips but there’s nothing of the icing left.

He’s smiling too, but you see the way he tilts his head to make sure you’re okay. You are. You hear your friends and family laughing, see their smiling faces from the corner of your eye. Their happiness cannot match yours, however.

“Did you really think I’d smash your face into the cake?” Jeonghan leans closer and whispers into your ear while the cake is being distributed around, his own piece waiting for him, the imprint of his fingers on full display. He sounds a little worried, so you squeeze his hand and give him a smile.

“I was worried for some reason, but it’s not like I thought you’d do it,” you admit and watch him sigh in relief before he pouts.

“Mingyu betted the guys that I would last week,” he whines to you, shooting the man in question a quick glare, “Sometimes I think he hates me.”

“He doesn’t, I think he was just upset about your prank back then,” you reassure him.

“How did you know I pranked him?” Jeonghan gasps, making you roll your eyes.

“I think I know my husband well enough to know,” you shrug. He pauses for a second before he bites his lips and grins. “What now?”

“You called me your husband,” he chuckles, “I like it. Call me that from now on.”

“I think I have no choice,” you laugh, giddiness slowly bubbling all through your body. 

Your husband. 

You’re not sure who makes the first move, who pulls the other into another short kiss, but you know it feels sweet like the cake.

[izvmimi]

cw: smut. dry humping under the influence. no penetration. semi-public sex-ish.

“Hey.”

Unsure of when exactly the two of you dozed off, you look over to Luffy, raising your head off of his chest, and gently shake his shoulder as he lays fast asleep, partially slumped against the trunk of a tree, one big enough to cast shade over both of you and your midday picnic. The sun still remains high in the sky, you glean through the leaves, so you cannot have drifted off for that long, but the fatigue on you is not exactly lifting in the normal way it does when you’re waking up from an impromptu nap, and you’re starting to get concerned.

“Luffy!”

Luffy rises not when you pat him on the face but rather at the sound of his name, eyes shooting wide open initially until he takes in your expression fully - frantic but unharmed - and his eyes go sleepy again.

“What?”

“Where exactly did you get those fruits?” You don’t know why you’re whispering or hissing in his ear, it’s not like there’s anyone around this clearing to see you except for the birds overhead and the wildlife that Luffy is a little too good at intimidating with a mere smile. You should have known better than to not question whatever Luffy presents to you without a second look, but you’ve learned to trust your captain and lover a little too implicitly, and now potentially you might be paying the price.

“Why, does your tummy hurt?” he asks with only a slight hint of alarm and more inquiry, still half-lidded and sleepy, the drawl of sleep on his tongue. He has yet to sit up completely, arms still raised and head rested on his palms. You on the other hand, are becoming somewhat diaphoretic - perhaps the hot sun was is making its way to you despite the cool shade generated by the swaying leaves, but more likely the fact that there’s a tingle through your body that’s beginning to spread from the tips of your toes and fingertips to your center and further just south of it which portends another problem entirely. 

“No, I just…”

You pause abruptly, finding yourself drawing in a breath all of a sudden and sighing out. Luffy’s eyes widen again and he finally does sit up, but you start to breathe out slowly, your eyes closing shut languidly as you lean forward over him, disoriented.

“Is everything okay?”

Barely able to hold your head up anymore, you finally tip forward onto his body, a lull suddenly washing over you and swaddling you tightly, and he lets you fall into him, pulling you onto his lap.

“I… I don’t know if it is…” you whimper but another odd sound escapes your lips, interrupting your own sentence, soft and yet guttural in nature, and your head starts to spin.

“___, what’s going on with-”

Luffy stops mid-sentence too, suddenly holding his breath. Whatever is coming over you has started to come over him too, and against his body, you can feel the sudden deep rise and fall of his chest, deeper, slower, fuller, breaths, a soft heave that makes both of your eyes roll into the back of your heads and threaten to stay there. You fingers curl and draw downward gently along the fabric of his shirt, a sudden desperate need overtaking you.

You whisper each other’s names in unison.

“Are you-,” you start but Luffy’s hands are already moving roughly up your body, slipping below your shirt but staying rested under your ribcage to move you properly, until you’re straddling him perfectly, and you maneuver your own lower body, a longing stare fixated at his unfocused one so that your the clothed crotch of your pants is just flush to his. You can feel that he’s growing hard and sensitive and the tiniest rock of your hips against his has the two of you gasping.

You have each other’s full attention now - Luffy is seated, back pressed and supported against hard bark, the rest of him tense and hot all over.

“Do you think it’s poison?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer before he leans in and nips at your lower lip, then sticks his tongue down your throat, and you take it mercifully, letting the taste of his tongue laving over yours help wash away the fire building inside your belly.

We’ll know if we pass out and don’t wake up, is a thought that passes through your mind fleetingly, but your heart is racing rather than slowing down and your arms don’t lock up or lose strength as you wrap them around his neck. You muster a shake of your head, lacking confidence but filled with desire.

You continue to kiss, your lower halves grinding against each other rhythmically, the words between you as a minimum as you swallow each other whole, want and saliva dripping and flowing between the two of you fluidly for what feels like far too long.

“Move more, I wanna feel you,” he insists, impatient as he huffs into your ear, but he does it instead, tightening his grip around you as he bucks his hips upwards, rough and desperate against the snap of grind of your own hips. No longer kissing you on your mouth, he finds solace in letting his teeth graze against the soft of your shoulder and the length of your neck.

Bite, lick, suck, grind, sigh… the friction with which the two of you writhe against each other could start a forest fire, and with further, unrelenting need, Luffy lays you back against the picnic blanket and pins you beneath him.

He stops for a moment, appraising you again hungrily but curiously like a wolf sizing up a particularly delicious appearing rabbit. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Wasn’t trying to, I just…” he kisses you again, the bulge of his pants pressing hard against your restrictive, practically oppressive jeans.

“Clothes,” he pouts, but doesn’t stop rocking against your hips. Fingers curl around the hem of your jeans and you want him, you want more, you want skin to skin, but you think about the very full possibility that you may keep fucking like this until whatever’s come over you wears off and shake your head.

“Just like this… is fine.”

He may be groaning at your prudishness, cock straining against need and a wetter and wetter spot growing in your panties, but for now, mimicking sex, letting your bodies struggle a bit prior to release might be just enough.

And if the fruit’s effects don’t abate soon at all, you might just have to get the rest of whatever you started just now worked out through your bodies, somewhere else where the birds can’t tattletale and your bodies don’t imprint into the grass, and you can really let yourselves go.

[lou-struck]

Time to Cool Off

Osamu Miya x reader

~ Osamu knows that a busy dinner rush can make even the most experienced workers run hot. That’s where you come in.

 W.c: 1.9k

Warnings: Karens, Swearing, The Service Industry

a/n: This one goes out to everyone who has ever had to cry in the walk in (I know I have)

It's one of those cool summer evenings where the sun has been hidden behind the clouds for what seems like hours. The pavement is no longer warm as you stroll down the familiar sidewalk path to your favorite spot in the city.

Like every other Friday night, Onigiri Miya is absolutely packed. Seeing your fiancé's restaurant succeed fills your heart with joy, but this is ridiculous. By the time you manage to squeeze yourself into the waiting area by the front counter, you cannot tell what customers are in line waiting to order and what customers are standing by waiting for their food. Even the dining area is at capacity as servers are frantically running around trying to take care of their many tables.

Through the chaos, however, you do see that there is a bit of organization with the staff, who are more than used to a busy evening. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see an outstretched arm swinging towards you. Dodging throws you a bit off balance. But at least you managed to avoid receiving an accidental black eye from the woman in front of you.

"This is insane," you mumble to yourself. It's not safe for you to be standing in such a large crowd of hungry people. You eye the stainless steel kitchen doors and zero in on your Target. Osamu is in there, along with a plethora of personal space for you to enjoy.

You weave through the crowd of customers gently. Avoiding all sorts of outstretched arms, legs, purses, and those dangling wallet keychain thingies like you are fresh out of the matrix. You're almost free when a large hairy arm stretches out in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn and see a middle-aged man glaring at you, an irritated expression on his face as he looks you over. "Oi, who do ya think ya are cutting in line."

You shoot him an apologetic look and raise your hands innocently. "Oh, I'm not putting in an order; I'm just heading back to the kitchen to~."

He cuts you off with a venomous look in his cold, dark gaze. This gentleman is clearly past the point of hangriness and now evolving into a full-blown Karen. "Likely story," he spits, reaching for your wrist. "But I don't think so~"

A familiar-looking body steps in between the two of you, and you take a slight step back. "I wouldn't touch them if I were you," your future brother-in-law says with a smile. The friendly face comforts you, and you flash him a thankful smile.

Atsumu may have is hands full with his volleyball career, but he still tries to make time to help out at Osamu's restaurant whenever he has a chance. Unlike his (slightly better-looking) brother, the setter is a klutz in the kitchen, so he is usually confined to the front-of-house duties such as ringing in take-out orders or seating parties. 

"And what are you gonna do about it?" He quips, not realizing he is vaguely threatening a professional athlete. 

The faux-blonde man with almost the same face as your fiance grins and rolls up his sleeves, nonchalantly revealing the product of years of hard work, his biceps. 

Karen dude pales in fear as he becomes aware that he has bit off far more than he can chew and takes a frightened step back, nearly knocking over another customer in the process. "Whatever, I'm leaving. I'm sure I can find some better stuff to eat than this place." He spits, turning heel and scampering away with his metaphorical tail between his legs. 

With the troublesome customer gone, you breathe a sigh of relief and turn your attention to Atsumu. 

"Thank you for stepping in; I'd hate to think what your brother would've done if he had to deal with serving that asshole." You smile, glancing just beyond the counter and see that the restaurant is even more packed than you thought it was.  "It's crazy busy tonight, isn't it?"

At your comment, he lets out a long sigh, "Ya have no Idea. I was just bored at home, so I came in to make some just came in to help out since he was bored at home, but if he knew how crazy things were gonna be, he would've just stayed away."

"Is Samu in the back?" you ask worriedly; these crazy dinner rushes are a lot for anyone to handle, especially someone as passionate and thorough as he is. 

Atsumu's eyes widen a bit as he nervously glances back toward the kitchen with a gulp. "Well…Samu is struggling a bit tonight."

"Oh, I see…" you frown, and your body moves toward the kitchen unconsciously. "I better go check on him."

You push open the door, and a rice ball misses your head by an inch. You are too scared to scream as you watch it splatter against the door. Your eyes widen as your head snaps to the source of your assault to see Osamu, you're handsome, loving fiancé, having an irritated conversation with a waitress. 

"What do ya mean her onigiri is the wrong shape? It looks the same as the hundreds of others that have passed by her table tonight."

"That's just what she said, sir," the waiter huffs. And you feel his pain; people are crazy tonight.

Osamu just sighs and turns toward the countertop to make a new riceball. A clean hand plunges into a pot of still-steaming rice and pulls out a handful. You wince as he frustratedly shapes a new ball, but the tension is running so high he doesn't even flinch from the pain. He prepares it in his usual practiced motions and sets it down on a new plate to hand to the now-sunned server. 

"Give 'em this one. And if they have anything else to say, jus grab me, don't waste yer time talkin to these idiots." he sighs as the waiter goes on their way.

They slip past you in the doorway, and Osamu finally notices that you are here, in his kitchen. His tired eyes light up a bit as his lips curve upwards in a weary smile. His broad shoulders slacken as you step into his open embrace and he holds you tightly. 

He smells a bit like smoke and onions, but you don't care at all; he needs this hug. "Busy night?'

"You have no idea," he murmurs, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "Is it a full moon t'night cause people are actin crazy?"

"Actually, that would explain a lot," you mumble, reaching into your back pocket to grab your phone. When you check your weather app, your face falls, and you flash him the screen, illuminated with a big, blue supermoon."

"Well, shit. What the hell is a supermoon?" he grumbles. His strong face looking adorable in his exasperated little pouting situation he has going on.  

"I guess it's like a full moon but more super." you chuckle, patting his back. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Jus keep me company," he smiles, "Ya do more than enough as is."

Although his words are sweet, you aren't buying any of it. This isn't your first time working at his restaurant, and it certainly won't be the last. With a quick wash of your hands, you turn your attention over to the to-go orders. There are several that are completed and waiting to be packed up and sent out. 

Osamu sees you already hard at work and lets out a chuckle, "What would I do without cha'?" 

"Suffer." you tease, boxing up another order. 

The two of you get into a steady rhythm; he works his way through the mountain of tickets, and you box up the ones that you need to. Everything is going great until you are interrupted by a frazzled looking Atsumu.

"Hey Samu. I got a coupon here that won't work; what should I do with it?"

Osamu's head snaps toward his brother with lighting fast quickness.

"What coupon?" he asks, taking the piece of paper from his brother's outstretched hand. As he reads the paper, you see his body go rigid. And you place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"TSUMU, THIS IS A COUPON FOR 25% OFF A BUSHEL OF YARN DOWN AT THE CRAFT STORE! WHY DID YA THINK I WOULD ACCEPT THIS?" he snaps. "ARE YA AN IDIOT?"

Atsumu's eyes turn glassy as he takes the paper back from his brother. "B-but the lady said it worked for her last time."

Osamu sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, it didn't,"

"But the customers.." he starts to say and you feel your body tense up as he begins that dreaded slogan. 

"Can be idiots," Osamu finishes. "Jus give the lady her coupon back and tell her that the only coupons he will accept are the ones printed for this restaurant."

Atsumu frowns and walks back into the dining room, armed with the knowledge that the customer is not always right. In fact, sometimes they are just idiots. As Osamu slumps back over to his workstation, he accidentally knocks a frying pan off the counter. 

It hits the ground with a deafening clatter, and he completely loses his shit. 

This is the Straw that broke the camel's back. 

"Goddammit," he grunts, kicking the fallen pan across the room with all his might as he returns to furiously start chopping vegetables.

Angry chopping is never a good idea, so you gently grab his arm to still his movement before he loses a finger or worse. 

"What are ya doin babe?" He asks, looking up at you with a mixture of confusion and a bit of despair.

"You need to go and cool off before you hurt yourself," you say calmly. 

"I-i can't jus take a break; i-its the dinner rush." he stammers in disbelief as you pry the kitchen knife from his grasp and tug him into the walk-in freezer.

"Don't care," you reply, yanking open the large door. Your hand comes to rest on his chest, and you feel the ferocity of his heartbeat through the muscles of his tig ol biddies and shove him into the cold room before he can react. 

Shutting the door behind you, you only need to wait a few seconds before you begin to hear him scream out muffled profanities. He continues this little screaming fest for a few minutes as you wander about the kitchen, making sure that none of the food he has been cooking burns. 

It's not cruel, it's necessary. If Osamu is going to finish this shift in one piece, he needs a moment to himself to just cool off and collect his thoughts.

Suddenly, the canary is no longer singing. 

Cautiously, you open the door and see a slightly chilly-looking Osamu staring back at you. His gray eyes are filled with warmth as he steps out of the freezer and wraps his arms around you. You squirm from the sensation, and he smirks, his good humor still intact.

"Feeling better?" you ask, shivering as his cold hands send goosebumps up your spine.

"Much better," he breathes, pressing his cold lips to your much warmer ones. "I really needed that."

Tagging: @sleepyyshroom, @isaacdaknight @qardasngan

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

FACE OF VERSACE

Pairing - Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

Summary - You accompany Cillian on his Versace photoshoot and cannot wait until afterwards.

Warnings - semi-public sex, p in v, oral (m receiving), in love

Word Count - 1.4k

Notes - Quick write. That white tank top does things to me. Also Cillian is a total simp you can't convince me otherwise.

It’s been like this for months now, Cillian’s schedule spilling all over the kitchen bench because it’s that full. Right when the both of you would think there would be a decent break for him, another job would come up. Not that you were entirely complaining about this one. 

It’s one thing to be the face of a brand, but to be the new face of Versace? Cillian never would have seen that one coming. It was a blessing to be able to wear Versace during the award season, but this felt like the cherry was too big to fit on the cake. There was a lengthy discussion on if he should do it, he was never greedy enough to push for another paycheck. Not to mention, being the face for such an elite business felt overawing. This was a big gig, which would lead to even more large opportunities in the future. He had a family and didn’t want to fall into the loop of constantly being away from home. But by the end of the night, you convinced your husband to take the blessed opportunity. 

You cleared your schedule to be able to watch the shoot. It was a very long day, the both of you had to wake up before dawn after flying in late last night. Cillian stubbornly decided to go on a fast, wanting to look the best he could for his age, as he argued. 

Even though he was high on excitement, you could see how exhausted he was. How desperately he needed to take a break and sit down. But he soldiered on, a refreshed expression of awe on him with every outfit. 

The clothes were tailored to him exceptionally, the way the fabrics snatched his waist made you feel butterflies in your stomach and your thighs squeezed together. 

You were wanting him all day, all week, all month. Even though you always had him, the spark of the thrill was currently dead. He was in work overload mode, so he was always so tired whenever he was free. Not that you blamed him for feeling that way, but you just always had the urge to show him how badly you adored him, wanted him, loved him. 

But, when he came out in the white tank that teased the beauty of his chest, a tailored black jacket with the matching high waisted trousers, topped with the medusa belt. It almost sent you over the edge on the spot. Especially when he waved the damn scarf. 

You had to have him as soon as possible. The way everyone was watching him, it made you feel possessive. The need to mark him as yours was pumping through your blood. There was no point in trying to hide how badly it was affecting your mind and body. Your legs were closed tightly and you were biting on your lower lip. 

There was a short break right after that shoot and you made up a little lie that you had a headache. Typically, being the thoughtful and attentive husband Cillian was, he took you back to his dressing room for some privacy and soundless scenery. 

But as soon as the door closed you pounced at him like a tiger. His back hit the door as you kissed him passionately, his hands raised in shock, his body stiff against yours. 

“Darling, fuck, couldn’t you have waited until we got back to the hotel?” Cillian chuckled nervously as one hand wrapped around your lower back and the other patted the door to find the lock on the knob. 

“Can’t wait, too horny” you moaned, flexing your hips up against his. 

“You’re such a fucking minx sometimes” he groaned, already feeling his cock twitch in his trousers. 

“I need you” you whined, your mouths still pressed together. 

Cillian whined out slowly, his eyes squeezed tight. The thoughts in his head were fighting each other. Desperately, he wanted to ravage you but logically he knew that the break would be over soon, and he hated rushing these moments with you. 

“I need you too baby, but-” he tried to object but the words in his throat went dry as you dropped to your knees. Quickly, your palm rubbed against his growing size. “Baby no” he protested, waving a finger as if he was scolding you.

But he couldn’t resist you. Naturally his hips flexed forwards and he was wondering how the fuck he was meant to get rid of his erection. 

“Come on” you whined childishly. 

“We’re meant to be on a tight schedule” he complained, but didn’t stop you from unbuckling his belt.  “My stylists will come knocking” he continued on. 

But you were determined and he already knew there was no denying this. 

“We’ll be quick” you promised slyly. 

“We’re never that quick…” he said, almost taking offense to it. 

You looked at him, puppy eyes and pouting to him. 

“Please sir” you begged softly. 

It was like a spell, whenever you’d call him that. That word made him bend backwards for you. His hand grabbed onto your chin and tilted your head back. 

“Such a little needy one, aren't you?” He groaned as you slowly slid down the zipper. 

“Yes sir” you answered, a cheeky smirk on your lips. 

“Well, who am I to deny my good girl? Who has been handling my time away so strongly. Taking care of my family so perfectly” he praised.

Those types of words always made your core clench. Every slight movement in your body, you felt your pussy slip in your thong. You hummed in response to him as you quickly freed his throbbing size. 

There was time wasted, you were on a tight schedule as he claimed. Swiftly, your lips wrapped around his cock and you bobbed your head down him. Cillian moaned out, his back pressed firmly against the door as his hands slipped into your loose hair, encouraging you to go faster. It hadn’t even been a minute when his hands gently tugged on the roots of your hair. 

“I want to fuck you baby…” he murmured as he pulled you up to your feet. You giggled and nodded your head in agreement. “You deserve to feel good too” he grinned, quickly leading you over to the two seater couch. 

He fell backwards onto the seat, quickly shaking his pants down to his ankles whilst you slid off your thong from underneath your skirt. Without a second to spare, you straddled him, his hands rolled up your skirt around your waist, his cock pressed against your abdomen. With a short lift, Cillian lined up his size to your entrance and you slid down slowly onto him.

Both of you moaned out in unison as his arms wrapped possessively around your upper frame, holding you tightly against his body. For a short moment, you both sat still, his cock twitching in between your clenching walls. An electric kiss was shared between your lips as you slowly rocked your hips against his. 

“Should be you, in the photoshoot” he praised you through a moan, eyes closed. 

“Shut up Cill” you moaned back as you bounced on him faster. 

He chuckled and gripped onto your thighs, guiding you to go at the perfect angle and speed. You planted sloppy kisses around his face, not caring that you were getting lipstick all over his skin. As he started to thrust inside of you, he buried himself deeply down your canal over and over again. 

“Love you so fucking much” he professed, holding your body close to his. 

“L-love you too” you shuddered, your eyes rolling back as he started to hit your sweet spot. 

He twitched briskly inside of you and could feel his balls tighten up. Through the euphoric sensations his mouth fell open, his hands moving to your bare ass. 

“Come for me now baby. I promise I’ll take it slow with you tonight, worship every inch of you” he vowed, his mouth pressed against your ear.

Your head nodded quickly as you felt your walls squeeze him like crazy. Shortly, you saw stars as you swore out, your hands in his short locks of hair as you rocked your high out. Straight after, Cillian moaned out, his seed shooting deep inside of you as he held onto you tightly. 

Both of you took a long moment to pant out, chuckling to each other as you stroked the hairs out of his face. He kissed you softly, confessing his undying love for you. tytr

Both of your heads snapped to the knock at the door.

[garbinge]

ONE IN A MILLION (1/?)

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!Reader // Word Count: 2.1k Summary: When Rooster saves you from an awkward encounter by pretending to be your boyfriend, the two of you get to talking and find out you have a lot in common. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Fluff. Light Angst. Drinking. Fake Dating (for like 5 minutes). Mentions of parental death (both characters). No use of Y/N. A/N: Apparently this is the week of starting to write for new fandoms and new characters! I cannot get Bradley Rooster Bradshaw off my mind these days!

“Hey babe, sorry I’m late, got caught up on base.” Suddenly there was an arm around your shoulder. Your face fell into a frown and you looked over at the man who was smiling at you through the fuzzy mustache on his upper lip. His face was slightly goofy with hope and you decided hell, what did you have to lose?

“You’d marry those F-18s if you could.” You wrapped your own arm around him and looked up at him, your eyes catching the Top Gun patch on his jacket and seeing the aviation patches on his uniform. 

His eyebrows raised and his face matched yours from earlier, he was trying to limit the shock that was showing through his smile but you clocked it immediately, a smirk growing on your own face now. 

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Bradshaw.” The blond haired man who had been flirting with you before this whole interaction was taking a sip from his beer now, clearly nursing the wounds to his ego. 

“Yea, M’not like you, Hangman. I don’t need to tell the whole world I’m getting some.” 

At that comment you looked up at the man whose arm was around your shoulder and swiped your tongue across the inside of your bottom lip. Your eyebrows were meeting in the middle as your head fell a little to the side. 

The man you now knew as Hangman was laughing as he looked down shaking his head. “Think you kind of just did.” 

“What’s Hangman?” You turned your head to the man across from you, tucking your head more against the man you knew as Bradshaw’s chest. 

“Jake here loves to leave his men hangin’.” Bradshaw answered quickly, you felt his body tense and you could tell there was some history between these two. Now you weren’t sure if this was a case of someone coming to rescue you from a miserable attempt at flirting, or someone just trying to check the man’s ego for his own gain. You’d take either because either way, it did save you. 

“Surprised you haven’t told your girlfriend about me, Rooster. Although, I do get it, don’t want to look like a loser, I’ve got all his times beat, fastest aviator in our unit, best shooting record too. Why they call this kid Rooster, always waitin’ for the right moment.” 

“From my experience, a fast shooter isn’t always the best. I like a guy who waits for that right moment.” Your face moved back to the man you just met but were spending the last two minutes cuddled up next to. Bradshaw’s nostrils flared and he tucked a part of his bottom lip in his mouth as he bit his tongue from laughing out loud. Your eyes glued on each other practically having their own conversation while your voices said nothing. 

“Never got any complaints in that department before.” Hangman was dropping a couple bucks down for the new beer that was sitting on the bar for him. “But on that note, I’ll leave you two to catch up. Nice meeting you.” His face was completely different from when he originally approached you. That first impression was full of arrogance and a demeanor about him like he knew he was going to win you over. Now his tone was just as crass but like this whole interaction didn’t break a piece of his ego off indefinitely. 

The arm on your shoulder was loosening as the man moved to replace Hangman’s spot at the bar. “What’s your drink?” He was waving down the bartender. “I owe you a couple.” His eyes looked over at you as his elbows leaned over the bar. 

“I’m good with beer.” You sat down next to him, really intrigued to see where this was going to go. 

“Let me get two beers, Penny.” 

“Want these on Hangman’s tab, Bradley?” She was popping the caps off the bottles. You mentally took note of what you assumed to be the man's first name.

Bradley smirked and looked at you for a quick second before answering. “Yea, he owes us compensation.” He was grabbing the one beer and passing it to you. “Plus, that means I got you for at least a second one actually on me.” 

“That’s good, cause I got a lot of questions for you.” Grabbing the beer you took a big sip and followed it up with a question. “You came over to me, why?” 

Rooster smirked and looked down in the space between his arms and stared at the bar floor but his mind was flashing to the scene he saw when he entered the bar. 

“I was looking around for my friends when I saw your face, all twisted.” He lifted his head and brought his hand to circle around his face. “I went to see what you were looking at, curiosity, you know?” There he shrugged, a smirk playing at his mouth. “Saw Jake–Hangman.” He used the name you were familiar with. “Knew what was happening and decided to pull you out of it.” 

“Right moment.” You teased, not giving yourself a moment to smile because you were bringing the beer bottle back up to your mouth. 

“Somethin’ like that.” He finally plopped down on a bar stool now, curiously looking at you. “What other questions you got for me?” 

“You always tell the whole bar that you’re sleeping with a girl?” 

“No, that was a first for me. But Hangman definitely does.” 

Leaning in closer to him you whispered to him. “I don’t really care about Hangman, Rooster.” 

“Noted.” His mouth was open with a little shock at your statement but he wasn’t going to argue with that. “Next question.” 

“Rooster?” It was one word, but he knew what you were asking. 

“Jake’s not completely wrong, it comes from me waiting for that sweet moment, like a rooster waits for the sun to rise.” His face was as neutral as you’d seen it all night. And despite only knowing him for under an hour, you could tell he was holding something back. 

“But there’s something else.” You waited for him to answer you.

You could tell he was thinking about what to say, or maybe he was thinking about if he even wanted to tell you. But as you contemplated what it could be, his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“My dad’s name was Goose.” 

He didn’t need to explain it further, you picked up on the name connection and you also picked up on his past tense use. 

With a nod you matched his neutral face. “Nice way to keep him with you.” 

“My turn for questions?” Rooster was changing the subject and while you were still a bit curious you understood why and didn’t post any arguments. But you did give him a hard time. 

“That’s a question in itself, isn’t?” Your lips curved as you said it and he let out a laugh, his head falling between his arms again. “You got me there.”

“Tell you what, I’ll let you ask me all the questions in the world, but I’m gonna need that second beer.” Flashing your empty bottle to him, he quickly made a verbal grunt in acknowledgement and then chugged the rest of his before flagging down Penny again for two more beers. This time on him. As he placed the cash on the table he handed you the beer and followed it up with a question. 

“Haven’t seen you around here before, what brings you to The Hard Deck?” He was clinking his glass bottle to yours after asking in a way to cheers you. 

Raising your drink back to him, you took a sip. “My family has a house near the beach. I come sometimes to get away when no ones here, but this time I’m visiting.” 

“Visiting someone special?” This was his way at trying to pry. 

“Yea, pretty special.” You frowned as you thought about who you were visiting. 

“They gonna be mad that I’m buying you drinks?” It was a teasing question but you knew he wanted the answer. 

“Probably.” That was all you were going to give him on that, filling the next seconds with a sip from your beer so he’d get the hint. 

“How’d you know about F-18s?” His hand raised to bring his own bottle to his mouth but then paused and lifted his index finger to point at you, “and my desire to marry them.” 

After letting out a chuckle, one where your shoulder lightly touched his, you turned slightly, but bringing your hand to his jacket. Your fingers gripped around his upper bicep, it didn’t escape you how strong he felt, the bicep under his jacket wasn’t even flexed and you could feel the curves of the muscles perfectly. Before getting carried away you lightened your grip and tapped on the Top Gun patch. “You pilots tend to wear your accomplishments on your sleeve.” Now your hand moved to pull his jacket back and your hand rested on his chest to the patches on his uniform. “And close to your heart.” 

“Doesn’t answer my question.” He spoke it in such a flirtatious way. 

But you pulled your hand back because the answer was anything but that. 

“My dad was a Top Gun Fighter Pilot.” 

Was. Rooster picked up on that immediately. “So you know a thing or two about Fighter Pilots.” 

“Maybe three.” You teased. “It was kind of all my life was growing up.” 

“I know that very well. I spent half my childhood in this bar I feel like.”  He pointed in the direction of the piano and you knew that while there were probably memories for him all over this bar, that piano held some important ones. 

“We’ve probably run into each other before. Maybe not here–my dad was sober, but around town.” 

“Nah, we never did.” His answer came quick, the shake of his head was firm in his believe in the statement as well. When he saw your face fill with question, he decided to enlighten you. “I’d remember meeting you. You got a face that one can’t forget–Wouldn’t wanna.” 

With that you felt your face go a little warm. Your head turned away from him, a reaction to feeling a little embarrassed by his statement even though it was a sweet one. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean–” 

“No, no. I just think that I agree with you, think I’d remember you, too.” 

“If you want my honest opinion, I think if I had met you, I’d have walked into this bar tonight the same exact way.” 

“Calling me your girlfriend and announcing to the whole bar that you’re sleeping with me?” You lips were closed when you smiled, holding in a laugh. 

“Yes.” His face went serious until he laughed with you. “Exactly.” 

You two kept talking for a few more minutes, and honestly, you could have sat here all night with him. This was the most entertaining but also enjoyable conversation you had in a while. 

“What was your dad’s call sign?” 

The smile just stayed plastered on your face for the entire conversation, this one not being any different. You loved talking about your Dad, your own way of honoring him, but not everyone understood the Top Gun nuances let alone appreciated them, but you knew Rooster would.

“Cujo.” You remembered everything that had his callsign on it, his helmet being one of them. “We had like a million dogs growing up, he kind of was a trainer in his free time, tamed a lot of aggressive dogs, people would bring their dogs to him and he’d send them back perfectly behaved.” 

“Million of ‘em huh?” 

“Exaggerating, we had 4. But in a house with 2 brothers and a million fighter pilots visiting all the time, it was just a lot.” 

“You like the millions, huh?” Rooster teased. 

“Well, I am one in a million.” 

You were still flirting, a brush of your own ego slipping out now but in a way that felt effortless and jokey. Rooster caught on immediately and smirked with a nod. “That you are.” Both your second beers were now finished, and he was going to buy you another but first he wanted to ask you one more question. “You never told me who the special person you’re visiting is.” He wasn’t stupid, the flirting might’ve just been fun and harmless to you, and he wanted to know for his own sake. 

“Oh!” Your head snapped to the door where you stood up and waved your arm. “He’s actually here right now.” Rooster’s head turned to follow your gaze when he saw Fanboy with a matched smile to yours and headed in your direction. 

“Fanboy?” Bradley was trying to wrap his head around what was happening, his head running through a million thoughts, but the next words out of your mouth were not what he was expecting. In fact, the odds of this were pretty one in a million. 

“Rooster, this is my brother, Mickey.”

Part 2 Dividers by @cafekitsune ✧.* 🛫Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!) CHAPTER INDEX <- where you can find previous chapters to this fic!

[swaps55]

Twin Souls of the Same Star

Funny, Kaidan thinks as they lie side by side, Shepard’s bare skin illuminated by the fishtank. They’d changed their lives just a few hours ago, assuming Joker actually filled out and filed the paperwork to the hanar and Alliance’s satisfaction.

And yet…everything feels exactly the same.

Shepard strokes Kaidan’s ring figure, then pinches it at the knuckle and examines it closely. “Guess I need to put a ring on this, lest anyone doubt that you are now bound to me by official legal documents. Er, at least as far as hanar law goes. Do we know how binding that little ceremony actually was?”

“Are you questioning the legitimacy of Joker’s ordination within the Enkindler Souls of Stars?” Kaidan asks, tugging his ankle free of the twisted sheet and draping it over Shepard’s leg. “Or are you asking about the return policy?”

Shepard kisses Kaidan’s knuckle and then tugs him until he straddles Shepard’s hips.

“Just try and renege and see what happens to you.”

Kaidan hides his flush behind a chuckle. Shepard pulls him in and traces the shell of Kaidan’s ear with his lips. Bastard. Not even fair to go straight for the ear.

“You’re stuck with me. I just want the entire galaxy to know.” 

No hiding the flush now. “Well, in that case. Don’t need a ring. I know your transponder code. Your baseline biometrics. Your service number. Your mnemonics.”

“Okay, so you know how to take me in a fight, sure.”

Kaidan trails his fingers lightly across Shepard’s belly, smiling in satisfaction when he yelps and nearly shoots out from underneath him.

“I know that.”

Shepard gives him a wary look. “Tickling is just a dirtier kind of warfare than bullets, in my book.”

Kaidan wiggles his fingers in tune with his eyebrows, but pins Shepard firmly in place when he attempts to flee.

“Point is,” Kaidans says between sloppy kisses against Shepard’s neck. “I’m pretty sure I can stake a pretty convincing claim to you without a trinket as proof.”

“Don’t know why I’m worrying. Pretty sure you’re the only one who would put up with me, anyway.”

Kaidan trails kisses down the line of Shepard’s shoulder. “Dunno. Have you seen how pretty you are?”

Shepard preens. “Maybe. But Liara says I’m very vexing.”

“Lucky for you, I like vexing.”

“See? Soulmates. The hanar say so. Joker’s head garment thingy looked very official.”

“If you’re really worried about it we could always hire a hanar to follow us around and tell people.”

Shepard sniggers into Kaidan’s shoulder, then adopts a solemn tone. “This one would like you to know that these two are bound soul stars in the eyes of the Enkindlers.” His eyes widen. “Oh god we cannot tell Javik.”

Kaidan barks a laugh, and Shepard grins.

“Well, we don’t have a hanar on board,” Shepard goes on. “Suppose we could just stick some tentacles on Garrus. No one will know.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“He’ll think it’s funny.”

He probably would.

Kaidan rests his head on Shepard’s chest, sighing softly as Shepard runs fingers through his hair.

“Should I have taken your name or something?” Shepard asks eventually.

Kaidan’s heart does a somersault at the thought. Not something he’s ever thought about. Not something he’s ever even cared about. But the fact Shepard has…

He swallows. Shepard continues stroking his hair and just…lets him feel it for a minute.

“You married me,” Kaidan says after a moment.

“Yeah, I remember. I was there.”

“Other people saw it.”

“Pretty sure they remember, too. Joker’s hanar impression was very memorable.”

“Wow.”

Shepard chuckles. The sound rattles under his sternum, and Kaidan lets the feel of it wash through him. “So? Should I be Sam Alenko?”

Kaidan huffs. “Well, you hate being called Sam.”

Shepard ponders that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess it would be kind of weird if people started calling me Alenko, huh?”

“Yeah, that would be pretty weird. Thought’s pretty romantic, though.”

“I am so full of romantic gestures. Just you wait.”

“Mmmm,” Kaidan says with what he’s sure is a stupid grin. “I could take yours, I guess.”

Shepard makes a face. “Can you imagine you and me in the same room as my mother? No one will have any idea what the fuck to call us.”

“Okay,” Kaidan says with a laugh. “No name changes.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

“Definitely.”

They drift off for a few minutes. Shepard’s hand stills, the weight of it on Kaidan’s head warm and comforting. Maybe Kaidan falls asleep. He’s not sure.

“Did you know we get tax benefits for being married?” Shepard asks, startling him awake.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow. “Did you read a manual or something?”

“Well, I can’t suck at this.”

Kaidan stifles a laugh against Shepard’s chest. “You know, Williams even told me once we should get married for the tax breaks.”

“Did she? Do you think she knew?”

“Of course she did.” Kaidan hoists himself up on an elbow to look him in the eye. “Everyone did. Except you. You thought I was into Williams.”

Shepard flashes him a guilty look. “She made you laugh all the time.”

“She was funny!”

“Yeah, but she was funnier than me and I didn’t like it.”

Kaidan raises an eyebrow. “And that didn’t…raise any flags for you.”

The guilty look gets guiltier. “Does it make it any better if I say that when people mistook us for a married couple I’d think to myself, ‘there are a lot worse things than spending the rest of my life with him?’”

“Really? Really?” Kaidan gooses him again, this time with a lot less mercy. Shepard yells indignantly and twists beneath him. They tussle until Shepard manages to trap Kaidan’s back against his chest.

“In my defense.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Hang on, I’m thinking.”

Kaidan laughs. “You realize that this exact line of thinking is what got us in trouble in Vancouver.”

 “Hey, I remember kissing you in the rain in Vancouver, so I think my line of thinking is pretty great, actually.” 

“Yeah,” Kaidan says softly, gripping his hand. “This is pretty great.”

Shepard rests a chin on Kaidan’s shoulder. “You were pretty pissed at me over the Williams thing. I thought I’d really fucked up.”

Kaidan strokes his arm. The memory of Williams still sits like a bruise, but it’s less tender to the touch than it used to be. “Think I was more angry at myself.”

“Why?”

“For being so in love with you and so unable to do anything with it. About it. I don’t know. You were never going to feel the same way and I just…couldn’t even try to get over the way I felt about you.”

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one who was dense,” Shepard murmurs in his ear. “Turns out I was, in fact, very, very into you the whole time.”

Kaidan smiles into the dim room.

“You know I reached out to Beaudoin after that to get his advice?” Shepard asks.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I thought I’d really fucked up, but I didn’t know why and Beaudoin, you know. Knew how to people a lot better than I do.”

“So you thought you’d fucked up your relationship with me, went to the only person we know with any reasonable insights on dating and romance, for advice, and that still didn’t trigger anything for you?”

“No.”

“You have saved the galaxy twice.”

“I contain multitudes.”

Kaidan snorts. “What did he say?”

“His message was one line and it was zero help. It said, ‘You’ll figure it out, I’ve got money on it.’ I had no fucking idea what he was talking about.”

Kaidan laughs softly into the pillow. “He and Aslany had a bet about us.”

“Wait….he knew too? Aslany knew?”

“Told you. Everyone.”

“Motherfucker.”

Kaidan tugs Shepard’s arm tighter around him, thinking of simpler days and places and times you can’t go back to. “Wish Beaudoin could have been here today.”

Shepard kisses the back of his neck. “Me too. Can you even imagine what he would have said about Joker’s ‘vestment?’”

“He would have loved us getting married by a human ordained through the hanar. And yeah, he would have fucking loved that vestment.”

“He really would have.” 

They lapse back into silence. It feels heavier this time.

Williams. Beaudoin. The Normandy. The ‘Yang. And there’s more to come. Kaidan feels it in his bones.

“We have a lot of history, don’t we?” Kaidan murmurs.

“Yeah, we do,” Shepard agrees. He wraps Kaidan up tight. “I want more. Think we made some today.”

“This one now pronounces you twin souls of the same star,” Kaidan intones.

“I like that part,” Shepard says, nuzzling his neck. “Even better than the vestments.”

Shepard has always shone brighter than any star, but Kaidan has always walked willingly and unflinchingly into that light. There’s never been another path. At least not that he wanted to take.

“Kiss me,” Kaidan says, the sudden need for it overwhelming.

Shepard rolls him over and obliges. It feels no different than it did a few hours ago: beautiful. It always has, with Shepard.

The kiss gets deeper. Shepard’s corona kindles, bright and flickering, a fire without heat that graces Kaidan’s nerves with a soft, sweet hum. Kaidan reaches into the gravity well and lights his own star, their auras blending together into one, solid glow.

We’ve always been this, Kaidan thinks as he falls headlong into Shepard’s embrace.

Now they just have the documents to prove it.