#i gave up writing fics eons ago

[rottedlilacs]

HEAR ME OUTTT jinx and ekko spiderverse AU

“in every other universe gwen stacy falls for spider-man - and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well”

is that not them question mark 🙄

[streetkid-named-desire]

17, 20 for the definitive edition, 28!

fanfic writer asks

hi luvwich, good morning luvwich

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

Having @merge-conflict beta read has made me a better writer and I find myself going back and fixing stuff I know they'd bring up. I'm more conscious of my verb tenses ("had" is my enemy and my lover), when internality would be good, etc. It felt good recognizing that, recognizing as I'm writing or editing going "oh I should do that."

Share your favorite kiss scene from A Streetkid Named Desire: Definitive Edition. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

AAHH my fave kiss scene is in the next chapter and one I haven't rewritten yet but it's still really good. I'm gonna put it under a readmore after question 28 because it's also the end of the next chapter. And also long.

28. What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

Spoilers for later in the fic so this will also be under the Read More actually. This is probably one of the most diabolical things I put V through. However, it has pretty good (though still torturous) comfort after it happens.

But also, gestures at my entire AO3

In one of the later chapters during the time that they're apart after the gig and Bea pushes him away. She ends up having to do a porn BD to pay Miranda (the manager at Doll Parts) a percentage of all the money she's made finding clients at Doll Parts to fuck for money. One of the other dancers recommends her an agent, says it's totally fine.

It ends up being some Maelstrom freak shit and it's horrible and awful.

V is spiraling back into bad habits, trying to fill the emptiness again. He's had to try more and more extreme XBDs. He finds a new one and it seems promising. The woman's face is blurred out but she sounds a little bit familiar but that could be any number of things. It's really hot and gets him going until he sees her ribs flaring, poking through her chest which reminds him of a certain moment during the dance the girl in the window did what feels like eons ago. He pauses the BD, doesn't think it's her. Couldn't be her. She wouldn't do this. Would she?

He rewinds. He sees her chest cyberware. He rips the BD wreath off and it shatters on the floor.

--

V and Bea checked the back storage closets and armory. Some old weapons in disrepair, work jumpsuits. V's attention caught on a vintage soldering iron while Bea was enamored by a first gen Militech Hercules. Unfortunately, it was broken. They moved to a closet at the back of the armory that was a little too small for the both of them.

V got an idea. Maybe it was the wrong move. But he couldn't hold it in anymore. He had to kiss her, a real kiss not a fucking peck. When Bea turned around V grabbed her hand and pulled her in to the closet.

They were packed like sardines, face to face, barely enough room to move. He closed the door. The smell of the desert, dust, and her body wash filled the closet, it was intoxicating. His heart pounded in his throat and his stomach fluttered like it did when he played spin the bottle at Julissa's 13th birthday party.

"Do we really have time for seven minutes in heaven?" Bea asked. She sounded annoyed, but not mad. Please, please let this work.

"Yeah, seven minutes."

He felt her hand go for the doorknob and he grabbed it, lacing his fingers with hers. He placed his other hand on the back of her neck and stared into her eyes. The thin rows of light from the slats in the closet door gave them a depth and dimension he could drown in.

Okay, careful now, be smooth. He tucked her hair behind her ear and rubbed his thumb against her cheek, "Girl in the window." Her skin was soft, and he barely felt the delicate cyberware that stretched across her nose and cheeks.

He felt Bea's smile, "You were a good boy." He was. But he finally had her in a private booth.

V counted the minutes, trying to not get stranded in each other's eyes. A small part of him was afraid to make the first move. It was an anxiety that had shadowed every interaction he had with her. Dread, expectation, waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment she would—abandon him like his parents like Johnny like Rat like everyone else he ever lov—

"Six and a half more minutes," she whispered.

V laughed, "Down to the second, huh?" He pulled her head closer and their lips met—well, their noses smashed because V couldn't see her face very well and forgot to tilt his head slightly. Her lips were as soft as he had dreamed and the vibrations from her giggle across his mouth joined the beating of his heart, branding it, searing her name deeper and deeper through the firm muscle, permanently warping it. There was no coming out of this unscathed, the damage was permanent.

She placed her hand on his cheek, he tasted lemon and honey from her lip balm.

She broke off the kiss first and looked at him as she stroked the scarification on his face with her thumb. "Five minutes left," she said, a little breathlessly.

He pushed her back against the wall of the closet and she let out a shuddering breath as he spread her legs with his knee and nestled his thigh up against her, the heat of her radiating through his pants. He slid the hand from her neck down to her lower back and up her shirt and pulled her body towards him, his hands exploring her bare skin greedily. He felt his cock swell and tighten against his jeans and he never wanted to take his hands off her. He kissed down her neck and licked a bead of sweat dripping down over her carotid as she thrust her hips down and forward and he returned the motion with his thigh in kind. She ran her hand through his hair and made the tiniest moan, a soft mewling lasting only seconds but long enough to imprint an echoic memory.

He forgot where he was, forgot they were in a closet in a bunker she nearly died helping him get access to in the Badlands near Night City in NUSA on planet Earth. She was his universe and their passion in this moment orbiting around and through each other, colliding in heavy breaths and whispers of hands across skin and fabric across hands and hair through fingers and the quiet wet sounds from his mouth as he lapped and nibbled and savored the thin flesh over her neck feeling her heart beat with his tongue.

"Three m—" he bit down, growling into her skin, an untamed animal in absolute heat, and she pulled on his hair, dragging his head away from her but he only pulled against her, needing to clamp down on her like a leech, branding her as she branded his heart. "Minutes," she said shakily.

That was cruel, couldn't they stay here forever? He was rock hard now and it was too soon, he needed so badly to see this through to its logical conclusion, to the third act climax. She finally put her hand against him, sliding her palm up and down the length and he closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder. Too distracted, totally spellbound by finally experiencing the real thing, the thing he thought about every night he touched it himself for the past three months since they first met at the club.

It was his turn to shudder and get breathless, "Fuck", except it came out louder than he intended and she giggled again and quietly chided him, saying his name, his name, and goosebumps traveled under his hands across her back.

One hand still on her lower back, urging her to keep using him, he snaked his other up the front of her shirt, lightly tracing across her stomach causing another ripple of goosebumps. She wore a tech bra that molded to the wearer's skin. He grabbed at the center, jerking her towards him, breaking the seal between the bra and her breast. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, before opening her mouth and biting his own neck. But he was a good boy, he gritted his teeth and contained the noises straining against his vocal cords, begging for release. The whirr of the temperature controls his hands joined the orchestra of sighs as he cooled his hand down and deftly shoved his hand under her back and was once again so pleased that the real thing was so much better than his imagination. She yelped at the cold and he felt her nipple harden in his palm and he kissed her quiet. Her soft flesh fitting in his hand oh so perfectly, the firm muscle beneath reminding him she could snap his neck as soon as she got bored, rip his tongue out if he wasn't using it the way she likes, that she was a predator and he was prey.

She pushed him away from her and said, "Time."

He grabbed her waistband and pulled her towards him, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her face so he could speak against her lips, so she could taste his want, his need. "Five more minutes." It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand.

"Nope," she grabbed his hands and twisted, releasing his grip on her pants and mournfully releasing her breast from his hand and it felt so empty, so devoid, as if its only purpose was to touch her.

"One more minute?" he kept his hands to himself but kissed her on her lips, then her cheek, and down her neck again.

She giggled, "No! We have to go."

"What if I beg?" he licked her neck again from her collarbone to her jaw.

Bea actually paused. Was she considering it?

She put both her hands on his face and kissed him then pushed him away from her, "No. Let's go."

He sighed, sounding like a sad puppy dog basking in the sun with nothing to sigh about. A huff at the delightful injustice in the world. He ran his hands through his hair and couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. His pants still felt too tight and he stuck his hand down his pants to adjust himself as much as he could. He wiped the sweat off her face and fluffed up the back of her hair where her head was mashed into the wall.

Bea opened the door and V's face burned red hot, not from the hot closet and exertion but because Mitch, Panam and Jackie were all standing there. Would the embarrassment ever cease today?

It was worth it.

Mitch and Jackie gave Panam some eddies, and she looked satisfied. "Told ya so."

V looked over at Bea, her head down, her cheeks were bright pink and one hand clamped over her neck where he was sure he left a small bruise. He cleared his throat and looked to the side.

"Mano, I told you to take it corpo bureaucracy slow," Jackie looked angry. But what the fuck did he have to be angry for?

He grabbed V by his shirt and used the momentum to punch V square in his face. The crack was so loud, Bea gasped.

"Ow! What the hell Jack?"

"For all the shit you pulled and made me pull for this gig. For making me hurt Bea like that. And for you not keeping it in your fucking pants for more than 48 hours," Jackie stormed out of the bunker and Bea followed.

"Huh, senses must be dull in my old age. I remember pulling that move in a similar bunker out here ages ago," Mitch said.

"I know how men work," Panam said. "And I especially know how that cheating, lecherous fucking bastard works."

"Oh ha ha," V said nasally before snapping his nose back into place.

When Bea and Jackie returned, Jackie looked less angry and Bea was glowing. She looked at V and smirked. She had a dimple on her right side when she did that.

He would kill for her. He would die for her.

She owned him now. Body, heart, mind, soul, everything was hers and he would let her take and take and take until he was a dried out husk.

[exhausted-eternally]

Fic Writer Interview

Saw Topsy did this and it looked like fun so now Imma pester y'all with one.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

35, currently, and only 1 is for a fandom other than The Lego Movie lmao

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

496,195 over the course of 6 years

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1- Reboot To be honest, I'm kind of baffled by this one. I started it just when covid was really starting to take off, lost where I was going with it before I was even halfway through writing it because I got SO swamped with work that writing was taken off the stove entirely for a while, and a lot of it was honestly just half-assed to get it finished but so many people LOVE it. I don't think I'll ever stop scratching my head about it, but at this point I've just accepted that it's my most popular fic ever. 2- Atonement Still ongoing and without a clear ending in mind yet. I had 2 ideas I was wanting to play with when I started it- wingfic, and house arrest. I've been having fun with it so far. 3- Prizes, Plunder, and Adventure This one was actually written based on a friend's doodles & half-finished ideas. I took them & ran with them as far as I could lol. I'm honestly happy that this one's in my top 5. 4- Hot Spring Another one that I'm kind of baffled by. It's a oneshot that's barely over 400 words. People like their coppernauts fluff, I guess lol 5- Time Travel Troubles This one was based on a prompt a friend gave me when I complained that I wanted so badly to write but had 0 ideas, lol. Of all my oneshots, I'm glad this one made it into my top 5.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Most of the time! Sometimes I can't think of a response though, and once I got overwhelmed with like 25 comments on one fic in one night from the same person so my brain kind of short-circuited lol. I definitely read and cherish every single one though.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angst tbh, so none of my fics really have angsty endings.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

That's a tough one to pick, I always write happy endings. XD; I guess I'll go with Starting Over Again.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Sort of; honestly I think they'd qualify more as AUs than proper crossovers, but sometimes I just get bit by a bug to write all my favorite characters in some other media settings for shits & giggles. Murphy's Law (Skyrim), Space Shenanigans (Star Wars), The Stranger (Myst), Octan Nights (1001/Arabian Nights), and Hollow Heart (Beauty and the Beast)

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeah, when I first started posting Murphy's Law on ff.net. Honestly it just made me laugh, it was so obviously some kid doing a shit job of being a troll.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I tried once. It was SO awful that I ended up deleting it and swore off ever trying again.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. The fandom I'm in is pretty small so no one's bothered to translate any fics in it, at least as far as I know.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh, eons ago when I was still just a little baby birb. I wrote a pitiful attempt at an OoT fic with 2 of my cousins that never got far. All my works since have been solo.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Coppernauts. C:

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Lord I have SO MANY. Think I'd pick Tech Support though (with a much better rewrite to boot, so no link for this one. If you want to read the atrocious original, you'll have to hunt it down yourself :P).

15. What are your writing strengths?

I'm told I'm pretty good with characterization. I'll choose to believe it. ;3

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Describing literally anything. I am terrible for just... not doing it. Which is something I REALLY need to work on if I really want to reach my 300k goal with The Umiran Amulet.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

There's only one language I can speak in any capacity, so I just stick with English. If it's something that's meant to be in another language, I just italicize it. Only every once in a blue moon will I use a word in another language, like if a character is swearing in their native tongue, and only if I'm absolutely 100% certain it's the right word.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Ocarina of Time. It was the fic I mentioned earlier that I wrote with my 2 cousins.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I don't really have any, at least at this time. I am very, VERY slow to move between fandoms & ships and am probably still going to be quite happily writing for TLM even when there's literally only 5 of us left lol.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I'd have to say The Atlantis Expedition, which was my first ever fic for the TLM fandom, and the first one I'd ever finished period. I have others that I love just as much, but this one will always have a special place in my heart.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Always my ineffable husbands! I'll keep coming back asking for sweet, cute, lovely stories of them! 😊

Well. Until you tell me to go away.

Hahaha, I won't tell you to go away.

Hmmm, no prompt, but I can still write something that's sweet, cute, and lovely! Hopefully!

Here's a little thing of them living together in the South Downs.

Warning: minor injury

On with the fic!

--

"In all our years on Earth, have you really never ridden a velocipede before?" Aziraphale asked, watching as Crowley waved a hand over the old, rusted bicycle. It had been in a much worse condition than Anathema's had been when Aziraphale had repaired it, and that poor bicycle should have been put out of its misery eons ago.

They had found this one in a patch of woods near their home and Crowley had loudly proclaimed it as his and that he was going to ride it.

The demon glowered at the angel. "I have actually ridden a bicycle before, angel." He huffed, sarcastically pronouncing the word 'bicycle'. "I just stopped once the car took off. Cars are so much faster than penny farthings."

"Well, yes, but it's been quite a long time since you've ridden one, yes?"

"Eh, isn't there a human saying about how you never forget how to ride one?" Crowley asked as he pushed the newly repaired device to the path outside their home. Aziraphale noted it was no longer a long-since sun bleached blue, but now a shiny red with black accents.

Aziraphale clucked his tongue. "Well, yes, but still... shall I miracle up for you a helmet? Or maybe some pads for your knees and elbows?"

"Don't need 'em." Crowley said as he got himself on the bicycle, wobbling a little as he tried to balance it and himself. "Alright! Let's get ridin'!"

And he was off, down the road of their home. Aziraphale frowned, wringing his hands as he watched Crowley ride, then swiftly swing around and come back, cackling as he did.

"See! Told you I still knew how to-!" And Crowley suddenly went from passing Aziraphale by to being on the dirt road with a shout.

"Oh goodness, Crowley!" Aziraphale rushed over, helping the groaning demon to sit up. "Are you alright?"

"Ngk, just... my pride is hurt." Crowley grumbled, then started to rub his arm. "And this, and my hip. Aaand my inner thigh where the bike landed on it, ow."

"At least you didn't hurt your poor head." Aziraphale said as he helped him stand, then snapped his fingers. The bicycle was upright and rolling back to the house, where it went past the gate and up to the cottage as Aziraphale walked Crowley home.

The device was leaning against the wall under their kitchen window when they walked up the path to the door and Aziraphale gave it a nod. "Let's get you all patched up, dear, and then maybe try it again?"

"Sure." Crowley said, pouting.

"And maybe this time you'll take my suggestion of protection to heart?"

"Uhg."

Aziraphale smiled, already knowing a helmet and pads were sitting in the living room, waiting for Crowley to put them on.

--

[timespaceandfilm]

Reinventing the Wheel - Ch 27: Eyes of the Runekeeper

Author: timespaceandfilm

Fic Rating: E - this fic has some NSFW content in other chapters, 18+ only

Chapter Rating: M

Pairings: Sebastian x Female Farmer, Elliott x Penny

Chapter Word Count: 9 k

Chapter Warnings: Seb learns some very concerning things about his father and why he left

Chapter Summary: Charlie and Seb finally learn a little bit about Seb's father.

Blurb:

Once Gunther has identified the minerals I brought, he pulls a thick leather-bound book from beneath the counter.

“Don't think I forgot about this,” he says. “Your contribution has made a monumental step forward in the study of Ancient Dwarvish.”

“Well I appreciate you making me a copy. I'm not sure where I'll be able to use it but I'm certainly interested in reading it.” I carefully pick up the translation guide and tuck it under my arm.

“If you'd like to practice using it, there's a headstone in the cemetery with Ancient Dwarvish writing on it,” Gunther offers.

As I’m leaving, my phone goes off.

Seb: just wrapped up work. how's it going? Charlie: I had to speak to Lewis and Clint. Seb: 🤢 Seb: at the same time? Charlie: No, thank the gods. Just leaving the museum now. Seb: nice. new donos? Charlie: Yeah. Plus Gunther gave me a copy of his Dwarvish translation guide. Seb: …

Once I see that last text I start counting down in my head. Three… two… one…   Seb's caller ID appears on my screen. Yep there it is.

“Dwarvish!?”

There's a sense of deja vu from the noises of fabric rustling, keys jingling, and boots thumping that come through the speaker.

“Yeah,” I can't help but giggle at Sebastian's apparent excitement. “you remember those scrolls with the colored ribbon?”

“Like the one I scored in the Secret Woods?” The bell on Robin's front door rings in the background.

“Uh huh. Gunther is convinced they're written in an ancient language of a people that came from the sky and settled under the ground eons ago. Apparently there's a headstone in town with the same writing.” I bite back a smirk.

For a moment the only sounds coming through are wordless stutters of disbelief. “Holy fuck. Ok. Um, I'm taking the minecart down there. What in the actual…” his voice trails off and then the line goes dead.

I'm still snickering when the cart comes flying into view with a rattled Sebastian seated inside. The way he narrows his eyes at me as he climbs out only makes me laugh harder.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up babe.” He stalks over to me as I pull it together. “When the hell did you find out about fuckin Alien Dwarves?”

“About a week and a half ago.” My laughter fades as I remember how shitty my mental state was at the time.

“Ah.” Seb frowns a little.

“Um, anyway. Shall we?” I offer my pinky and Seb hooks his own around it.

We walk over to the cemetery in a comfortable silence but Sebastian's enthusiasm is still pretty obvious. I repeatedly have to tug on his finger to slow down as the spring in his step causes him to outpace me.

The cemetery is small and quaint. All of the headstones are fairly simple; nothing too ornate. Some are so old and faded the engravings are barely readable. One headstone for someone named Mona has a few flowers balanced on it. Eventually I notice the stone a few paces to the right has strange markings on it. They're oddly clean and fresh looking, but the symbols definitely look similar to the ones on the book.

“This must be the one.”

I let go of Seb and sit cross legged in the grass. He kneels down next to me as I begin leafing through the translation guide. My hope is to find a symbol that matches one of the ones on the stone and go from there. I'm barely five pages in when Seb reaches out to trace a finger over the stone.

“‘Stand between the pillars three

With gift as precious as the sky:

A rainbow forged from land, not sea

Then galaxies will heed your cry.’”

My jaw drops. The book falls into my lap. I look at Sebastian. He looks back at me like a kid who's been caught doing something that may or may not get them in trouble.

“You can read Dwarvish!?”

Read the Full Chapter on AO3

[tsarisfanfiction]

Uncut Thread

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Angst Characters: [redacted]

He doesn’t know how he isn’t dead.  The mortal body isn’t designed to survive this.

For @flashfictionfridayofficial​ #189: Who Are You. My muses have been stubbornly stuck for ages but this prompt gave them several ideas all at once and one of them managed to come to fruition, so yay!  There may end up being more to this at some point.  Maybe.  This comes in at 994 words, according to MSWord. Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

His mouth tastes of iron. There’s a wet sheen across his teeth, a tang of metal on his tongue when it mindlessly swipes at it as though it thinks that maybe this time it’ll taste different – but it never does.

He barely remembers a time when he couldn’t taste iron.  One of his teeth is loose; every time his tongue touches it, he wonders if this is the time when it falls, leaving behind a fresh spring of blood in its wake, but it hasn’t fallen yet.  Not quite.

Pain is a constant companion, dulled by what feels like eons of exposure.  Once upon a time, he knows he lived without the ache in his bones, the low throb of blood vessels pushing up against obstacles that shouldn’t be in their way and threatening to burst if they suffer any more pressure.  It’s not an empty threat; he’s felt many rupture, warm iron erupting from his throat and coating his tongue.

Is it a blessing or a curse that they seal up again, his body determined to keep healing itself no matter how many times it’s been torn apart?  He’d rather it did something useful, like find a way out.

If there’s a way out, he lost his chance at finding it long ago.

Dull chains clunk as his weight shifts, cold metal biting into wrists where they hang above his head. He can’t feel his hands, lost the last sensation of fuzzy pins and needles in fingers long ago.  That’s not a good sign, he knows, but he can’t do anything about it, either.

Cool stone, either because it’s chilled or damp – he can’t tell the difference, and it doesn’t really matter – presses against where his biceps are forced up, against his shoulders, his back where the rags that were once clothes have long since disintegrated. If he raises his head, he’d feel it pushing past his matted, disgusting hair to chill his scalp, too.

He hasn’t had the strength to lift his head for a long time.

He should be dead; he knows this.  Mortal bodies just aren’t designed to survive in these conditions.

He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that his body clearly disagrees.  He doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t want to stay here, shackled and suffering and forgotten, forevermore.

He’s never been the type to stay back as a damsel in distress, but while his body is keeping him alive it’s long since lost all of its strength – although that hardly matters when he couldn’t escape even when he had strength.  Now, all he can do is sit here, wrists hot and cold and tingly and encased in iron, chin slumped against his chest, legs buzzing angrily as the weight of his thighs on his calves crushes his nerves and breaks his blood vessels over and over and over, and endure.

What he’s enduring this for, he doesn’t know.  He’s given up on waiting – for rescue, for something to break the monotony of his imprisonment, for anything.  The Fates don’t seem inclined to cut his thread, or perhaps he’s been forgotten by even them – his captors have clearly disappeared for good and he hopes with what little he has left in him that they’re dead, even if it means no-one knows where he is, even if it means no-one remembers where he is.

When a sound that isn’t his own faint and rasping breathing reaches his ears it’s near deafening in the silence.  It’s the sound of movement, of feet that can bear the weight of the rest of the body – he doesn’t think he can even remember what that feels like, now – and hushed voices.

He hasn’t hoped in a long time.  Even now, he doesn’t let himself dare.

It doesn’t stop his ears from straining, from picking out familiar tones, familiar cadences and the song that lurks beneath.

There are two voices. One is barely familiar, skittering across his awareness with the dismissiveness of unimportant memory and no desire to identify.  It’s quiet, but insistent, and the word alive brushes past his ear.

The second makes his body ache, because he knows it well, heard it more than he didn’t before his world collapsed around him and he was dragged here, imprisoned only to be neglected, abandoned to a death that refused to come for him.  His mind has long since lost the ability to see things, even with a familiar voice to latch onto, and he stops trying to identify them.

The ground beneath his long-dead legs trembles, and the chains above his head clunk together.  He doesn’t even have the strength to fall, shakes limply like a torn and discarded toy as a roar of noise assaults ears that have heard nothing louder than the faintest whisper in too long.

Alive? he thinks he hears again as the cacophony fades.  It’s a question, but he doesn’t put two and two together until something brushes his bare skin, scorching hot compared to the cold iron manacles around his wrists.

The gasp that tears itself from his throat takes him by surprise; he hasn’t had the strength to make a sound for a long time, now.  Another brush against his face, pushing matted hair out of the way to encase his cheek in warmth, startles his eyes into cracking open, still more closed than open.

He can’t see who the fingers belong to, and who are you? circles through his mind sluggishly as it tries to fire neurons that haven’t sparked in eons.  He knows he knows who this is, but the name won’t come.

Whoever they are, their mind hasn’t been dulled by an eternity in captivity, and the name that falls from their lips, horrified and on the edge of tears, is one he hasn’t heard in too long, hasn’t even thought for longer than he can recall, but it sinks into his paper-thin, emancipated skin like an old comfort.

“Michael?”

Because it’s his.

[pokenimagines]

NSFW fic - Raihan & Leon x reader

Okay you asked for smexy stuff right?? Here it comes- may I have a little fic about a threensome where the reader is kinda tipsy and admits they like it rough?

(not sure if I need to specify the gender, in which case it would be preferably fem, but I know you write for everyone so yeah! Tysm for that)

Have a good one!

Just remember kids to drink responsibly and consent is the sexiest thing alive. When reading this there's an AFAB and AMAB version for the smut. Once you read the version you want there's a small aftercare portion that's back to being gender neutral. As always pronouns are They/Them to keep things inclusive for the entire fic.

Y'all this one is just chefs kiss! Like god DAMN!

Discord (16+) - Request Information 

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

NSFW Leon and Raihan: Kinky

Honestly you had absolutely no recollection of the events that happened that night. All you knew is there was a party for all the 18+ members of the Pokémon league to celebrate another successful gym season. Then you started drinking. Then you managed to wake up on a set of stairs three blocks from your apartment, missing a shoe and a half flask of rum tucked into your underwear.

When you managed to get home and finally get your hangover under control, you looked through your phone for images and videos you took. You had to take a moment to breath and noticed you had been hanging out with both Raihan and Leon most of the night, if the images were anything to go by. Raihan looked about as trashed as you but Leon looked only a little buzzed.

Then you saw a notification on your phone; the group chat the three of you made eons ago.

Rai: So we gonna talk about last night? Lee: You actually remembered? Rai: Hard to forget something like that. You: Am I missing something? Lee: Well looks like someone doesn't remember. You: I don't remember last night at all. Also why did you guys let me fall asleep on a set of stairs: Rai: We took you to your apartment? How'd you end up on stairs? Lee: We literally tucked you into bed. You: I was two blocks away from my house so doubt. Rai: I mean... Rai: You aren't the best at staying in place when drunk. Lee: True You: Whatever... now what exactly did I do last night anyway? Rai: For starters you basically gave us your entire kink list. Lee: And told us how you liked it rough. Rai: And how you've been wanting us to tag team you since forever. You: I...

To say you were mortified would be the understatement of the century. The rest of your day went by in a complete blur of headaches, upset stomachs, and embarrassment. By the time you felt ready to face the consequences of your actions the group chat had blown up. Both Raihan and Leon apologizing and said they'd forget it if that's what you wanted. However something caught your attention in the blocks of texts the boys sent.

An offer.

To do the one thing you had been dreaming of forever that apparently drunk you had no issue telling them. That you wanted them to both absolutely destroy you at the same time. You didn't know how to respond so you did the only thing you could.

Set a date and time.

That led you to your current predicament. You were on your knees with Raihan's hand roughly holding your head in place, his cock shoved down your throat as far as it could go. Meanwhile Leon was behind you, fucking you roughly and using a bruising grasp on your hips. Whenever you let out a whine or shifted, hell even bucking up into him, you received a harsh slap on your ass.

"Damn, they look amazing like this." Raihan moaned, pulling out his phone to snapping as photo. When he asked you earlier if it was okay you weren't sure, but after he assured you it would be for personal use you obliged. You knew you had to be an absolute mess right now, drool and tears streaming down your face.

Raihan roughly pulled you from his cock and you gasped for air while also moaning out loud as Leon wrapped his hand around to your front to play with you some more.

"They look even better from back here." Leon said, his hips snapping into yours causing you to jolt forward into Raihan's weeping cock. Some precum got smeared onto your cheek, only adding to the mess on your face.

AFAB

"Think they can take both our cocks at once?" Raihan questioned, wanting to fuck into your holes.

"They did say they wanted us to wreck them, isn't that right sweetheart." Leon's voice had already been deep before, but in the throws of passion it someone began huskier and dark. Your walls clenched against Leon's cock, causing him to stutter out a gasp. "Fuck, feels like they like it." Leon said, slipping his cock out of your entrance.

"How's that sound, babe? Want both our cocks stuffed inside your holes?" Raihan said, moving hair out of your face so you could see him better. You blinked through teary eyes and nodded slightly. You yelped as a harsh palm slapped against your ass.

"Words, we told you to use your words before we got started." Leon reprimanded and you nodded.

"P-please." You whimpered out.

"Please what?" Raihan said, placing two fingers on your swollen lower lip and pulling at it a bit.

"Please fuck both my holes." You said, leaning into the touch. Your mouth opened up as you went to suck on his fingers, wetting them for him.

"Lee, flip them over so I can work their ass open." Raihan said and Leon was quick to listen. If you were in the right state of mind, you'd find it almost amusing how Raihan was basically in charge here. Sure Leon was dominant as well but whatever Raihan said went.

You were laying on your back and Leon ran his hand over your chest, pinching your nipples and making you squeal out. As the same time Raihan began working one finger into your ass. You gasped out a moan, already being overstimulated from coming ten times over at this point. Still as he managed to get two then eventually three fingers in and the sensation was turning more pleasurable.

You whimpered as you felt him take out his fingers, suddenly feeling empty. You looked over with half lidded eyes as Raihan put on a condom and poured some lube into his hands.

"Lee, do you want the front of the back?" Raihan asked as if you weren't even in the room.

"I think you should get to feel their cunt, it's amazing." Leon's crass words made you flush from embarrassment.

"Lift them up then and hold their legs apart. You go in first and once they're used to your size I'll join." Raihan said as he tossed the bottle of lube to Leon. With how much slick was on his condom from fucking you, you almost didn't think he'd need it. Still he put some on before lifting you up with sticky hands. He moved your legs apart so Raihan would have an amazing view and you thanked the stars these boys worked out all the time. How Leon was able to hold you up like a rag doll as his cock slowly went into your ass was astounding.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying not to cry out as his cock breached your entrance. He slowly slid himself down onto you, groaning at how tight and warm you were. Once you were hilted on Leon, Raihan came over and helped calm you down by rubbing your thighs.

It took a few moments before you were able to give them the okay to move. Leon started off gently fucking you before picking up the speed. Every time he lifted you up you felt Raihan's cock rubbing against your clit. You moved your head back onto Leon's shoulders as you tried to not get overwhelmed.

Raihan looked over at Leon and put a hand up, making him stop, "You ready for my cock, babe?" Raihan said as he pressed just the head of his cock into you. You moaned, trying to buck up into him and take him already.

You quickly remembered what they said and spoke up, "I'm ready. Please Rai...I wanna f-feel you." You stuttered out a moan.

"Whatever you want." He said before slowly sliding into you. Raihan could feel Leon's cock between your walls and bit back a groan as he hilted himself into you. He held some of your weight with his hands on your ass while Leon still gripped your thighs to hold them apart. Raihan locked eyes with you before leaning in to give you a bruising kiss. You whimpered as he bit down on your lip and you could feel Leon's mouth on your neck, leaving more love bites all over your skin like a constellation.

Raihan was the first one to begin moving and soon Leon and him found a rhythm together. As soon as one left the other one joined in, making sure you were never empty. You felt yourself cum again, squeezing both their cocks in a death grip.

Leon was the first to cum, biting down on your shoulder and you were pretty sure he drew blood. His hips stuttered against your own and Raihan had to hold you in place so he wouldn't slip right out of you. You felt Leon's cock finally come out and Raihan quickly shoved your against a wall. You yelped in surprise as the change as well as only being filled with one cock now.

Raihan managed to hold you up with one hand while the other was balled into a fist against the wall by your head. He was panting against you, his face inches away from your own. You went and wrapped your arms around his neck and could feel another orgasm washing over you. This is what finally threw Raihan over the edge as he came in you. He took a moment to recollect himself, his cock sliding out and he was quick to take the condom off and tie it off, tossing it off to the side.

AMAB

"I'd love to see it, wanna change our positions. Make them ride you reverse cowgirl." Raihan said, pinching your cheek teasingly. You groaned at him but felt Leon's cock sliding out of your ass and positioning you to a seating position.

You let out a small whine as his cock went back into you and you could feel the cool lube that he no doubt reapplied. These boys really used way too much but you were grateful they weren't hurting you like that.

Your mouth dropped into a, 'O' as Leon began making you ride him. Your eyes were still teary from the sensations and honestly you thought after coming three times they'd show mercy but obviously they were going for as many orgasms as you could take.

Raihan's large hand wrapped around your cock, his thumb sliding across the slit and collecting some precum. You gasped and moved your hand to bite down on it, trying to stifle some of your noises. Raihan's grip on your cock got tighter to almost hurting and you winced in reply.

"No covering your mouth, I want to hear all of your noises." Raihan said as he leaned closer. You felt his hands over your chest, grazing your nipples. They hardened under his touch and you took your hand away, opting to put it on the back of his neck.

"S-Sorry. T-trying not to upset the n-neighbors FUCK!" You shouted the end as Raihan went and bit down on one of your nipples. A small bite mark surrounded the areola and you shot him a half-hearted glare as he kissed it.

Leon, obviously annoyed at you forgetting about him, took you almost all the way off his cock before slamming you back down. His grip on your thighs were so tight you knew damn well there would be bruises all over it.

"I think we've disturbed them about five hours ago when we started." Leon chuckled from behind you. You felt his scruff against your neck as he left little pecks and hickies all across you.

"They're so not g-gonna let me resign this lease." You complained, knowing your neighbors would no doubt be complaining about this noise disturbance.

"It's fine, you can move in with either of us. We won't care." Raihan said as he began pumping your cock. You bit your lip as you tried not to voice your opinion on that. As much as you'd love to, the thoughts of the tabloids finding out as terrifying.

You watched as Raihan went over to the nightstand and grabbed a bullet vibrator he had used on you earlier. You swallowed a lump in your throat at the thought of that on your already overstimulated cock.

Raihan walked back over and sat closer, almost on Leon's legs. His cock tapped against your own as he switched the vibrator to life. It was at a fairly calm setting as he put it on your two dicks, holding them together as the vibrations cause a broken moan to erupt from your mouth.

"F-fuck it's too much." You cried out as Leon continued his brutal pace. You were shaking at this point and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came on both yours and Raihan's chest.

"Fuck Lee, you should see their face." Raihan said as he got out his phone and took a photo of you experiencing ecstasy like it was the first time. Your body was twitching against their own as the vibrator almost burned with the sensation. Your cock was softening but the sensations were still going. You heard Leon groan from beneath you, his movements going erratic as he came inside the condom in your ass.

You bit back tears as Raihan finally took away the vibrator and let you calm down for a moment. Both you and Leon took a moment to calm down before Lee was slipping his cock out of your ass. You thought you were done until you saw Raihan's still hard cock. He hadn't cum just yet and smiled.

"As soon as I come we'll be done, okay?" Raihan said and you weakly nodded. You had no idea how much more you could take but god damn you wanted to try.

Leon got up from the bed as Raihan picked you up and all but tossed you over the nightstand. He bent you over and kicked your legs apart so you were presented to him nicely. You could see him grabbing one of the condoms from next to your head as well as the bottle of lube. Thanks to Leon, it wasn't hard for Raihan to slip inside of your warm ass.

Raihan groaned alongside you as he felt your walls fluttering around his length, "Can't believe I let Lee have you first." Raihan said as he began thrusting into you. He grabbed your hair from the back and pulled you back, wanting to see your face. You had to almost roll your eyes all the way back to see him.

Your mouth was hanging open as a chorus of moans broke through the room. Your poor cock was already getting half hard and Raihan's other hand went to the front of you as he began stroking your length in time with his thrusts.

You had no idea how you managed to cum again, splattering the nightstand with what little seed you had left; it had almost been a completely dry orgasm. Raihan hissed at how tight you got as be came as well, riding it out hard and fast. As soon as he came down from his high he rested his head in the crook of your back, catching his breath.

After (No Gender)

"Holy shit." You managed to say as he changed your position so you were being held bridal style.

"You stole the words right out of my mouth." Leon said as he came into the room with some warm towels. He must've taken then time to get ready for clean up. Raihan laid you out on the bed as Leon came over and started wiping you down.

"Think we could do that again sometime?" Raihan asked, sighing as he sat down on the bed next to you.

"Depends...are you guys staying the night to cuddle me?" You asked in all seriousness.

"Fuck you and leave? Who do you take us for. Besides my muscles are crying out." Raihan said, flopping down to lay, "Couldn't get me off this bed even if you tried."

"I don't have plans tomorrow so we can sleep in too. I'm with Raihan I need some rest." Leon said, tossing the towels away and scooping you up and moving you further up on the bed. He laid next to you and Raihan was quick to scoot up and wrap his arms around your waist. Your head was facing Leon's chest and one of his arms was under your head. Both curled into you and you felt their lips on your shoulder blade and cheek.

"Good, because I think we're all sore at this point. Night boys." You murmured, already feeling sleep taking you.

"Night." They both said in unison before you all managed to drift off into a peaceful rest.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @mforpaul!

I tried to incorporate some tropes from the list you gave me, I really hope enjoy this.

(btw sorry for the unpleasant parts of this fic but it was totally necessary. Eek I have actually had writer's block for over a year. Anyway I hope this is okay). Thanks again for giving me the opportunity to write for you <3

Happy Holidays! =)

*****

Don't Ask Me Why...but I Just Get This Feeling about You

In the middle of firing up the milk frother in order, of which he was using to complete what was probably the 10th cappuccino ordered this morning

(or was it a moccachino? or latte? He had lost track eons ago, ever since the mad rush of customers had come through the door at 7 o’clock)

Barista Alec Lightwood idly glanced up at the clock in the center of the lounge area across from the counter where he was currently  working at.

Eleven-thirty.  In the morning. 

Wait. It was still  the morning???

How was it that only four hours had gone by? 

Alec groaned.

Continue on AO3

[hellionhades814]

Complicated Love 1

{This is a fic I’ve been writing on AO3 that I thought I’d share. https://archiveofourown.org/works/31483490/chapters/77879180 } TW: SELF HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS Rodimus Prime looked out onto the bridge that had a very comfortable-looking Megatron and Optimus. Megatron's arm was wrapped around the Prime's shoulders as they spoke to Ultra Magnus. Having reconnected recently after being apart for so long during the war. Love sparked from eons ago rekindled to the dismay of everyone and the spark break of a speedster. They had once been together long before the war began, and their love had reconnected after so long. Optimus had moved onto the Lost Light to be closer to Megatron, and Rodimus would see them constantly moving to one another's rooms and hearing them through the thin walls. The walls thin, and he could listen to all their little words of love.

Rodimus was not able to even look at them most of the time anymore. Just turning into a stuttering mess if either of them wanted to speak to him. He would make an excuse and high tail it out of there. However, they didn't try to either, which just made everything with them even harder to deal with. They barely talked to him unless it was a meeting or he had done something wrong, which happened often. His long-standing crush on the old Prime was still raging in his spark and loving him since even before he was a prime and just Hot Rod. But he knew he would never be thought of as anything but a disaster of a prime. He could barely do anything right in the optics of Optimus, no matter how hard he tried. Like, come on, he was gorgeous with his paint job and moving treads… He was getting off-topic right.

Megatron was in the same boat. His love for the mech was there when he started to get to know him better during their adventures on the Lost Light before Prime had joined them. Massive frame lurking in the halls as he walked with such elegance and pose. His poetry was even something he tried to read. Even though he hated reading anything about what Megatron wrote, he felt closer to the mech as he read. But he knew that Megatron just thought of him as just a sparkling who did not know what he was doing.

He looked down from where he had been staring to look at the work he had barely touched and knew Magnus would not be pleased with the lack thereof. He looked over to the place that Prime and Megatron previously occupied, but they had left to go somewhere while Rodimus had starred off into space. Getting up from his station, he made his way off the command deck and to his office. Picking at his wrists as he tried to think of going anywhere but his hub suit. He thought he could try and get some paperwork before making the trip back to his quarters. Just get the work done… right like that's a good excuse not to go to his hub suit even though you never get anything done and have to have Magnus force you to do work. With a sigh, he turned to instead go to his room. Knowing he did not have the focus to do anything like paperwork. He'll probably get a lecture from Magnus in the morning, but he did not care. All they ever seemed to do was give him lectures and punish him. His processor was lost in thought as he walked, and all his thoughts were surrounding the two mechs he was hopelessly in love with.

All the times he screwed up seemed to all play at once in his helm. Making everyone around him get hurt or some killed on other occasions. Why was he even thought of to be a prime? Hell, who gave him the right to be the captain of a fragging ship? They knew he was a disaster, yet here he was on the ship and the supposed captain. Yet every single fragging day, they loved to remind him of what an incompetent idiot he was. Though they never said it in those words. It was always the disappointed stares and little critiques that he could not stand. They echoed in his helm with every move he made.

He had not eaten or slept in a while. Really would anyone want to when the two bots you love will not even spare a glance your way unless you screw up? His frame was tired from all the sleepless nights, and when he did sleep, the nightmares would make it all the worse. It did not help that the walls of his room were thin, so he heard everything when Megatron and Optimus went at it. Though he wouldn't lie and say he hadn't been eavesdropping, and damn, did they have stamina. The cube of Energon on the table sat there before him, but he could not drink it. As much as he played the confident, cocky captain of the Lost Light, it was far from the truth. Hell, no one probably even believed that mask. They probably just thought he was on some idiotic suicide mission. He gave a dry chuckle at that. Oh, how close to the truth that was and yet wasn't. It was complicated. Sighing as he laid on his berth, he hears the door next to him open and shut. They were home, meaning he was going to listen to their fun time. Oh, a joy to him.

Like on cue, he heard a bang and a moan from the room over and sighed. They were getting straight into it then. It must have been a long day of teasing for them to be this riled up. Getting up, he moved to the wash racks and looked into the mirror. Geez, no wonder they don't find me attractive. I wouldn't find myself attractive, and with that thought, he splashed some water on his face as he still heard the moans and groans from the other room. He couldn't stand it anymore, but it just went on and on. He looked over at his desk and glimpsed at his knife. Was it a bad idea… yes. But it was an excellent way to feel something other than horrid self-loathing. He promised Drift he wouldn't but just ugh. How was he expected to go through this torture without having some fucking relief? Marching over to the knife, he picked it up and brought it to his wrist. Drift's voice in his processor made him freeze for just a moment.

With a shaky breath, he brought the knife to his sensitive protoform. Wincing as he drew it across his wrist. The energon beaded before spilling down his servo to the drain. Rodimus gave a dark chuckle as he was able to feel something other than what his processor was saying. The numb feeling was going down the drain with his energon as he watched. He knew it was not right, but it gave him relief, and the noise from the other room was drowned out by the alarms his frame was giving him. Fuel alarm, recharge alarm, and now he got to add injury alarm to his point rake. Placing a few more cuts to his protoform, he finally slid down the shower wall and fell unconscious.

--hours pass--

Waking the next cycle to a banging on his door was not precisely what Rodimus would call the best experience. "Rodimus, you're late to shift," came the gruff voice he knew all too well and wished would say something other than words of disdain. Getting up off the shower floor was a workout and a half, leaving him tired and breathless. Though somehow, he made his way over and opened the door to see a rather disappointed-looking Optimus. He adverted his optics to look at the corner. "Sorry, I overslept; I'll be out in a bit," he answered in short sentences as he held his arm behind his back. Though little did he know the Prime had seen the new cuts but didn't mention it. Raising an optic ridge and looked the young Prime over. He had to talk to Ratchet and Megatron before he did anything rash. The signs were there that something was wrong.

"Good" was all that Optimus answered in return as he turned and left. Rodimus exhaled a deep breath as he turned to look at his arm. It wasn't too bad and could easily be hidden by his armor. Which was good, at least he thought it was. It all just a big mistake, but hey, that was if life. He quickly got cleaned up, but he could already feel a processor ache coming on. Feeling like his helm was being crushed and not in a fun way between some thighs. Looking over his fuel count, he sighed at how low it was, but he couldn't find it in him to eat. He could go a few more hours, right. He began to make his way to the command deck when Ratchet stepped in front of him. He froze for a moment seeing the medic "Scrap," hissing under his breath as he put on one of his famous fake smiles "Ratchet, how ya doing," he asked as he stopped by him.

Ratchet looked over the young Prime with a slight frown. "I'm here because you missed your check-up exam a few cycles back, so I've come to collect you," he informed him and watched his faceplates. Optimus had come to him moments ago to speak his concerns, so he was going to bring him to the med bay. Whether he was going to go willingly was another question. Rung had already been called and was waiting at the med bay to see what they could get out of the young Prime.

Rodimus stilled as he heard that and began to sweat. "Well, I'm already late for my shift on deck, so maybe later when I get off," he chuckled awkwardly as he tried to get out of it. Knowing the state his frame was in and that Ratchet didn't miss anything, he didn't want to risk the medic finding him out. He glanced down the hallway to see if he could just run for it. His processor aches to get worse by the second as he quietly panicked on the inside. "No can do, Rodimus. I already talked to Optimus, and he said your all good to come with me" Ratchet pushed back as he looked at Rodimus. He could already tell what Optimus had told him was true and now just needed to get him to the med bay.

He began to panic now. Going to the med bay would lead to them finding out and asking questions. How was he supposed to answer those questions anyway? He was in love with Optimus and Megatron because he cannot lead to a mental breakdown. He couldn't do that. What if Megatron and Optimus found out what they would think. They would think he was worse than first thought. He felt his optics offline as he collapsed to the floor from his haze of panic. The last thing he saw was bright red and blue optics.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

If the World Was Ending

A/N: not to be that bicth who writes song lyrics as a summary but…

Summary: 

I know, you know, we know You weren’t down for forever and it’s fine…

But if the world was ending, you’d come over right?

“The human race on the edge of extinction, and all Kurt can think about is his ex-fiance.”

Based on If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe

1908 words, angst, reconciliation fic (seasin six AU ish)

A/N (edit): This started out rated G but now it’s rated E oops

Read On AO3

***

He’d called his dad.

“I’m coming home,” he’d blubbered. “It’s not too long of a drive.”

“You and I both know there’s no way you’re getting out of New York right now, kiddo. The roads are gonna be way too congested, no one’s going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll book a flight.”

“Airlines aren’t operating. Indefinitely.”

“I will walk if I have to then, I don’t care, dad. This can’t be—I have to see you. I don’t want—”

“Kurt,” his dad said, a brittle finality in his tone. 

And Kurt knew what it meant. He could waste his last breaths trying, but there was no way he was getting back to Lima before time was up.

So many things he’d wanted to say. I’m so scared. I don’t want to be alone. But with an invisible countdown hanging forebodingly over everyone’s head, all there was time for were the words that mattered. 

“I love you, Dad,” he’d whispered brokenly.

“I know,” Burt had replied. “I love you, too. So much.”

“Tell Carole and Finn I love them.”

“They know. I will, but they know.”

Silence taught between the lines, heavy with the not wanting to let go. 

“Kurt…”

“Yeah?”

“You should go see him.”

And the line went dead.

Kurt had cried, tried to redial, screamed pathetically at his phone until his vocal cords were raw with the fear and loneliness that have been aching in him ever since he broke things off with Blaine, amplified now by the blood-stained sunset and the steadily increasing heat.

Solar flares, they’d said on the news that morning. Just a rare, astronomical anomaly, something to mark on the calendar. By the time Kurt had gotten out of his last class, it seemed there would be no more calendar to mark. NASA’s top astrophysicist estimated they had until sunset before the planet was burnt to a crisp. 

The human race on the edge of extinction, and all Kurt can think about is his ex-fiance.

What a horrid way to find out that he does, in fact, want to spend the rest of his life with Blaine.

He’s passed Blaine’s new apartment now and then, feeling an undercurrent of regret every time he did, and now, his feet seem to follow his heart there. 

Fear makes his arm heavy when he finally reaches the front door to Blaine;s new apartment, but something deeper, stronger within him gives him no choice but to knock. 

There’s a little peephole on the front of the door. Kurt imagines Blaine taking one single glance through it, scoffing, and walking away. He’d probably be happier to see a takeout delivery boy than he would the ex-fiance that left him high and dry, broke the best thing that ever happened to him, then left Blaine anchorless. 

If Blaine hates him, Kurt could never blame him for turning him away, even as their demise creeps up behind them.

Click.

The door unlatches and groans open slowly, revealing a familiar face. 

Blaine doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look confused, or surprised, or any of the reactions Kurt might’ve envisioned. He just looks relieved.

In an attempt to dry his quickly dying throat, not wanting his voice to crack when he speaks to Blaine for the first time in months, Kurt swallows. “Hi, Blaine,” he manages.

There’s only time to register a miniscule waver in Blaine’s lips before his arms are around Kurt and both of them have collapsed in the doorway, reduced to a heap of sobs.

God there are so many things that race through Kurt’s mind like missiles exploding into more sobs before they find their way out of his mouth, but he can’t find the strength to verbalize any of that right now.

Oh, and he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to be strong around Blaine, doesn’t have to hold himself twice as solidly as he does around him and Jesus how he’s missed it. He misses the freedom of not having to hold yourself together when you submit to someone your vulnerability.

Nuzzling his wet face into the familiar curve of where Blaine’s shoulder and neck meet, Kurt is reminded of the safety his relationship with Blaine offered him, that all-encompassing security Kurt once mistook as a suffocating confine because… well, a house can feel like a prison to someone who's never had a home before.

And Blaine is his home, he knows that now. Hell, he’s always known it, and was afraid of it. 

After the apparent shock of having Kurt in his arms again wears off, Blaine pulls away to get a better look at him. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I tried calling you, but I didn’t know if the lines were working after—” 

“I know, I know,” Kurt says frantically, a bit fearfully. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, or if you’d even let me in.”

Blaine lets out a wet little laugh that’s halfway a sob. “Kurt, I will always let you in,” he says, and then surges forward to crash his lips onto Kurt’s.

In a flurry of motion, they pick themselves up off the floor and tumble inside the apartment, a mess of flesh and libs desperately trying to cling to each other. As if they are reading each other’s minds, as if they haven’t been separated for months, they each follow the other’s lead. 

The force of the kiss sends them staggering backwards, until Kurt’s back slams roughly against the living room wall. “Shit,” Blaine breathes, pulling away to check on Kurt. “You okay?”

Kurt just pulls him back in, not wanting to have him away for longer than absolutely necessary. “‘M okay,” Kurt mumbles messily against Blaine’s lips. “Just. Don’t stop. Need you.”

Kurt reaches out to unbutton Blaine’s jeans and Blaine returns the favor. A sense of urgency hangs thick in the air, and there’s no time to worry about getting the rest of their clothes off once Kurt’s kicked off his pants to the floor and Blaine has his pulled down enough to free his trapped cock.

Making sure they never break their kiss, Blaine reaches down to grab Kurt’s ass and hoists him up into his hips, using his weight to pin Kurt to the wall while Kurt wraps his legs around Blaine, hooking them together at the ankles.

And then Blaine presses in, and Kurt can feel himself start to fall apart.

Up until now, they’d felt the urgency, the need to rush and just finally be with each other again. But now that Blaine has finally slipped inside him, he rocks his hips forward slowly, fucking into Kurt as if they have eons left together, an eternity instead of mere hours.

With each thrust, Kurt lets out an involuntary cross between a whine and a moan, throwing his head back before eventually burying it into Blaine’s neck and gripping the back of his shirt tightly with his fists. Blaine doesn’t pick up the pace, though; he seems determined to make this last as long as he can, even if it means watching Kurt come utterly undone, still pinned between Blaine’s warmth and the wall.

Kurt feels dizzy and heady with Blaine’s body, and every motion his ex-fiance makes sends another pulse of electricity throughout Kurt’s entire body. Somehow, Kurt manages to gather up enough brain power to think to press his lips to Blaine’s shoulder, messy and wet and sloppy. One by one, he peppers a trail of kisses upwards. From Blaine’s shoulder, to the crook of his neck, to his chin, until finally their lips are together again and Kurt lets Blaine breathe in every broken noise from his mouth. 

It occurs to him, suddenly, how truly lucky he is. What a privilege it is to be able to experience, one last time, the forever he so cowardly tossed aside. This is what he gave up. The man holding him up against the apartment wall, loving him so tenderly, forgivingly, as if Kurt didn’t shatter him a few months ago. The man who could map out every inch of Kurt’s body and soul blindfolded, and using that knowledge to show Kurt exactly how much he still loves him. The kind of love that could hold on when one of them walked away, that could be so understanding, that could forgive when Kurt said some unloving things to the person he loves most in the world.

Kurt had all of this right in the palm of his hand, and he just… let it all go.

When Blaine bucks his hips up this time, Kurt is unable to keep his little moan from evolving into a sob as he once again drops his head into Blaine’s neck, trying to hide his face, red and wet with tears.

In an instant, Blaine is there, cradling Kurt in his hands and lifting his face. “Kurt, baby, what’s wrong? Do you need me to stop—”

Kurt shakes his head and reaches to hold Blaine’s face as well. “No, no, please, don’t stop. I just—” Getting the words out between sobs is proving much more difficult than Kurt could have ever imagined. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. God, I am so fucking sorry. I love you so, so much, and I don’t even know why I—I’m just so sorry.”

 Blaine smooths the sides of Kurt’s hair down, lips quavering before letting his entire face crumble. “It’s okay. None of that matters now.”

It’s then, that Blaine finally quickens his pace slightly, and it’s enough for Kurt to get close again. Blaine wraps a fist around Kurt’s cock trapped between them and starts pumping in time with his thrusts. He leans forward to kiss Kurt one more time, as if the fifty they’ve already shared weren’t enough, and mumbles, “I love you, too.”

And that’s all it takes—knowing that despite it all, Blaine can say those words and still mean them—to send Kurt over the edge, spilling out between their bodies. Blaine keeps fucking him through the height of his orgasm, each strong roll of his hips bringing Kurt to the brink of overstimulation, and after a few seconds, Kurt can feel him finally coming inside of him, little pulses sending aftershocks through Kurt. 

They stay there for a moment—only for a moment, as the ones they have left together are limited—doing nothing except remaining intertwined with each other, holding each other, breathing together.  

Hours later, when they both have cleaned up and come down from their post-orgasm highs, when Blaine has told Kurt about the phone call he got to have with his parents and Cooper, they just lie in Blaine’s bed, wrapped around one another, hands interlocked.

It’s nearly ten at night, but the sky is bright as noon outside. Kurt has always prided himself on his courage, but doesn’t want to lie to himself and say that he isn't afraid to die. He’s fucking terrified. 

But then he looks at Blaine and Everything’s going to be okay, doesn’t feel like the blatant lie it is.

It’s getting harder and harder for Kurt to imagine why he’d ever left him behind. At the time, he’d thought they were nothing more than someone once innocent, now broken.

Maybe they are. But just like Blaine said, none of that matters. 

Because in these final moments they’re sharing, in the sun’s fatal rays, even shattered glass will glitter like the gold they once were.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

If you were to write a version of Wizards without time travel but still keeping the struggle against the Arcane Order how would you do it?

This is pretty much a combination of plans I have for the cagemates au as well as the backstory of this fic I wrote pre-Wizards. This is very self-indulgent and I doubt it makes sense but oh well.

Okay, so the story starts the exact same way, with the single change of how I’m going to be using my revised backstory for Douxie (aka there was forwards-only time travel and he’s only 17 as opposed to 900-ish). Also, Jim hasn’t been sharded yet.

I think the story would involve a teleporting castle as the kids’ home base, with them effectively going on fetch quests. There are scenes of the kids bonding with minimal adult supervision (just Archie, Merlin, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH!!!). And, that includes the following private conversation between Jim and Douxie:

Jim: You know, you’re actually pretty cool when you’re not flirting with my girlfriend

Douxie: Uh, thanks, but I never flirted

Jim: Yes you did

Douxie: No I didn’t

Jim: Yes you did

Douxie, in a lower volume and nervous: Jim, if I wanted to cause you and Claire to break up, and I wanted to get a significant other for myself in the process... I wouldn’t have flirted with her.

Jim: Oh? Oh! Okay, that’s cool. I support you. Uh, does anyone else in this castle no?

Douxie: Just Archie.

Jim: Okay, cool, I won’t tell anyone.

(The rest is going beneath a cut because this is getting long)

Back in Arcadia, after Merlin teleports the castle away for the first time in the story, Bellroc and Skrael grumble and travel the mostly-empty streets of Arcadia Oaks. And they find Gaylen’s core. Eons ago, they gave a fraction of their power to an akiridion who wanted to create a permanent home for his people, spacefarers who were constantly having to leave their planets due to war and inhospitable landscapes. And when he went mad with power, they gave Seklos the strength and inspiration to create her cannon.

They pick up the core, and they learn of an akiridion whose core resonates with Gaylen’s. And, it’s not like they would have to leave the Earth to find him - they just have to go to a wrecked and ruined spaceship to find a lonely boy whose family is dead or far away, and his best friend has left him. He tries calling his other friends, but they’re not responding (mainly because they’re recovering from the battle that Krel doesn’t know about.)

Krel’s consent to Bellroc and Skrael causing him to integrate with Gaylen’s core is dubious at best, but they do convince him that Merlin the Evil™ Wizard (along with his apprentice) has kidnapped his friends.

Steve and Toby try to reach out to Krel, but he doesn’t answer. He needs time, they think. He’s grieving and wants space, they think. In the mean time, some of the mooks they have to fight have some disturbingly akiridion qualities. And then, the kids get kidnapped. Everyone but Douxie gets placed in a surprisingly well-furnished cell, and Krel goes to them and tells them how happy he is that he was able to save them from Merlin and his apprentice. The kids, of course, can see that Krel has been changed and are scared.

Krel is sad that his friends are scared of him (and he doesn’t like that he’s been changed by Gaylen’s core, either) and so he decides to leave them so he can go to try and interrogate Merlin’s apprentice. Tries is the key word here. Varvatos may have tried to teach Krel, but Krel is too squeamish to cut off Douxie’s thumbs and thus the two of them end up bantering. Krel gets flustered; why does he like talking with his enemy so much? Krel tries to intimidate Douxie by putting the tip of his serrator’s blade under Douxie’s chin and using it to tilt Douxie’s gaze upwards... instead they both manage to get more flustered because it’s a homoerotic sword-under-chin scene now. Krel leaves the room, and finds out that his friends have broken out.

Claire ends up awakening stronger shadow magic, and she and Krel spam portals at each other as the kids try to find Douxie and escape. Someone asks Douxie if he’s okay. He claims to be physically fine and emotionally compromised. Jim finally gets sharded in the escape. He’s in a great deal of pain, and Barbara finally gets brought in. She’s terrified because her baby is hurt and she can’t do anything for him.

The other kids ask Douxie about the whole emotional compromise thing when they’re safe.

Toby: Just because Krel was our friend before you, that doesn’t mean it’s okay that he hurt you. Are you sure you’re okay.

Douxie: If he’d hurt me it’d be easier.

Everyone: o_O what?

Douxie: I... why is it that the only time I’m able to talk to a cute guy and not get too flustered to speak is when he’s trying to interrogate me by being really sweet and funny?

Everyone: O_o

Toby: You really weren’t flirting with Claire, were you?

Douxie, relieved that Jim didn’t out him but also frustrated: Why does everyone think that.

Claire: I didn’t think that. Well, I did for a little bit but then I remembered seeing you at the GSA meetings back before I switched schools from the Academy to the High

Douxie, grumbling: Why do I get the feeling that I wouldn’t be in this mess if I had just managed to try to talk to that cute DJ at the Battle of the Bands before the Eternal Night happened

Steve: Quick question, are you saying you had a crush on DJ Kleb?

Douxie, head in his hands: Yes

Steve: Yeah, that’s Krel’s human disguise

Douxie: Fuzzbuckets.

Toby: If it’s any help we all thought you were the token cishet.

Krel is panicking, because the Order was fine with hurting his friends, and also because he has a crush though he’s in denial about the latter.

Jim ends up looking way more like he did in the Deep (except he still has horns) than just growing into a giant beast.

Douxie gets a staff. Somehow.

Krel defects at around the same time as Jim joins the Order. He’s able to make up surprisingly easily with his friends, and Aja and Eli come back to Earth, shocked to find out what has been done to Krel but affirming that they still care about him the way they did before.

Merlin’s death is more-or-less like canon.

Morgana remains evil in her dying breath. Claire gets to kill her. “Oh happy dagger, this is thy sheath. There rest and let me finally start to live again.”

Barbara, Blinky, AAARRRGGHH!!!, and Toby snap Jim out of the shard’s corruption.

Nari sacrifices herself to destroy Bellroc and Skrael, which would make Wizards the end of the story rather than needing Rise of the Titans.

Cut to an epilogue where Eli is complaining about how Krel is dating a guy from their rival school while Aja is laughing in the background, Steve is hanging out with Coach Lawrence and talking about teaching sports to kids after school, Douxie is training Claire in magic, Toby helping Miss Janeth direct a play involving Shannon, Conrad, Darci, and Mary, and Jim (still a half troll) is building a new motorcycle so he can be prepared for whatever next adventure is lying in wait for their sleepy little town of Arcadia Oaks.

[catgrump]

“I’m alive?” [For Sondham Sonia/GUNDHAM?] Your writing is 💕💕💕

I’m so glad you like my writing 💛💛💛

This is an Idea for a little scenario from Cruise Ship AU! I have plans for a full-fledged Sondham fic in Cruise Ship AU so this is a taste of what’s to come I guess lol

🌻🌻🌻

Gundham stared at his reflection in the cramped bathroom, leaning on the faux-marble vanity

He sighed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Could this cost him his job? Potentially. He’s thought about that. He can’t remember the last time he was disciplined, so maybe this would be worth the risk.

The ship was docked at its private island. He’s never actually stepped on shore. And when she found that out, she insisted he abandon his post for the day to spend time with her.

“I was going to do so many things alone! It would much more fun with a companion!” She pleaded

And he gave in. When he first met her just a few days ago, he felt like he lost his inhibitions. She’s captivating. He looks forward to stopping by her family’s suite each day for a chance to see her. She’s kind, and curious. She’s asked about him and his life.

So he’s taking a chance.

Not like he isn’t taking a chance whenever he goes out of his way to see her. But this is something entirely different.

He left the employees’ quarters to meet her on the dock.

He stepped onto the gangway and felt the sun beat down on his pale skin, and felt like he could sweat immediately seeing Sonia sitting on a nearby bench

She’s beautiful. Her long blonde hair was gathered into braids that cascaded against her frame, adorned with a sleek swimsuit, dark shorts, and a sheer black shawl. She was glistening in the sunshine.

And then she saw him. She grinned ear to ear and stood up, gathering a bag closer to her and waving with unbridled enthusiasm

He walked down to join her. “I am so glad you are here!” She was practically bouncing with excitement, “Part of me was not expecting this.”

Gundham shrugged, smiling, “I do not take promises lightly.”

“Then come with me! I have a reservation in fifteen minutes,” she took hold of his wrist and practically dragged him down the dock toward the island

Gundham followed Sonia’s lead as he took in the sights around him. The island itself was clearly designed to be accomodating to vacationers. Before the bombastically colorful front gate, one of the first things you saw were giant water slides towering into the sky.

The sky was perfectly blue and the waters looked crystalline. The sand on the shore was almost was white as the clouds. It was almost too perfect

Sonia continued to hold on to Gundham as she trudged through tourists. They passed by souvenir stalls, rows of chaise lounges, private waterfront cabanas, snack shacks, musicians playing calypso, and tropical flora and fauna— which Gundham always took note of. There were far more lizards here than he anticipated, which was exciting.

By the time Sonia finally said “we made it,” Gundham thought she had made a mistake.

When Sonia said ‘a reservation’, he thought it was for a meal. But there was a shack in front of them, storage lockers behind them, and... water vehicles of some kind parked in the water beside them

They weren’t boats; they were much too small. Gundham had never seen a vehicle like this before. It appeared to be a scooter or motorcycle on water

Sonia finished talking with the attendant in the shack and approached Gundham, jingling a small key on a ring. “Anything you do not want getting wet goes in a locker,” she chirped

Oh. So she did have a reservation to... ride. He didn’t take her as someone who’d want to do those sorts of things.

Gundham did his best not to stare as she removed her shawl, revealing more of her figure. He swallowed, but then quickly averted his eyes when he saw her start to take off the shorts she had on. He could feel himself growing more and more flustered as his imagination ran wild

He bit his lower lip as he looked at his feet idly kicking the sand

He had to snap himself back when he felt a finger tap his shoulder. Sonia was standing in front of him expectantly. “If you have a phone on you, I suggest leaving that in my bag in the locker,” She giggled

“Right,” he nodded and followed her advice, taking his phone out of the pocket of his swim shorts and placing it in her tote bag once he was at their locker.

She has not said anything, Gundham paused, standing still in front of the locker, contemplating an insecurity of his, I do not think she will make any remarks...

He took a deep breath and decided to remove the shirt he had on. Sonia had only previously seen him in uniform— a uniform where he was able to cover his scars. They adorned both of his arms, and he had some across his chest. When on the clock, he went out of his way to appear more friendly and approachable than he desired to be. Even with his brooding presence, Sonia had led him this far. The last thing he wants is for her to be scared of him.

Gundham did his best to control his breathing while he folded the shirt. We ARE on a beach, he told himself, This is perfectly acceptable.

He took one last deep breath before turning around to face her. A weight fell off his shoulders when she smiled and clasped her hands together with glee.

“Come on,” she instructed, “We have to listen to the safety information!”

They sat among strangers and listened to an instructor guide them through driving the vehicles, which Gundham learned were called ‘wave runners’.

His leg bounced with anxiety as he tried to focus his nervous energy on gripping his own knuckles

When the presentation was over, they put on life vests and went to the docks.

“Is it alright if I drive?” She asked with pleading eyes. But they were entirely unnecessary.

“Y-yes, that is fine,” Gundham did his best to hide his fear. This is not the type of activity he would do to seek a rush of adrenaline.

Sonia climbed on, taking hold of the steering handles with zeal. Gundham waited for her to settle in before cautiously sitting behind her, and searched for some sort of handle on the side of the vehicle to grab.

There was no such handle.

Well, he had to hold on somehow. He very carefully wrapped his arms around her waist, doing his best to maintain a respectful distance between them. She’s beautiful and she did invite him out, but he can’t make any assumptions.

On the insteuctor’s cue, the fleet of wave runners started off. Sonia turned over her shoulder and asked “Are you ready?”

Gundham nodded yes with a tight, forced smile.

He felt like he was flying. And not in a graceful, peaceful way. It was as if he were a crash-test-dummy in a race car, headed toward his inevitable demise. Sonia’s profile over her shoulder was the last thing he saw. Removing one of his senses just amplified the others. He couldn’t look at anything, but he could hear the motors speeding through the waves, he could smell the salt of the sea as it hit his face, he could taste his mouth getting drier, and he could feel how he had suddenly grasped on to Sonia with all of his might. There was no distance between them anymore. His brain was telling him that if he let go, he would fall off, and who knows what would happen after that?

He was squeezing his own arms for stabilization, and listening to Sonia laugh, trying to center himself. This went on for what felt like eons.

Until they suddenly stopped. “Gundham?” He heard her say his name and opened his eyes. He picked his head up to see her looking down at him with wisps of hair in her face and a concerned smile

“I’m alive?” Were the first words out of his mouth

She laughed, and covered her mouth with one of her hands. “Yes, we made it back! Our time is up.”

“Oh,” Gundham suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, “That was not... so bad.”

“Gundham, you have not let go of me.”

She was smiling, but Gundham instinctively released his grip. Was his face heating up from the sun, or because of her?

“I think I owe you a stiff drink after that,” she continued, swinging a leg over the side of the waverunner, “Come on; my treat.”

She stepped off the vehicle and offered Gundham a hand. With his heart in his throat, he accepted it.

Prompt from This List: feel free to send in a request!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi if you can 💛 Fics will always be free; tipping is optional 💛

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

True Forms in the Stars

Now on AO3! “True Forms in the Stars” - A @do-it-with-style-events Reverse Bang fic, written by me, based on art by @larkartwolf​ !

Months after the Apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley are slowly working their way towards their happy ending. But a series of nightmares remind them of pains long buried, which can no longer be ignored. If there is to be any hope for a better future, they must first confront the scars of their past.

Read it now on AO3! (includes full image of artwork)

(The full fic is about 12.5k; the first few scenes are below.)

==

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

His eyes darted up, trying to meet Crowley’s, but once again the demon had turned away, jaw tight, rocking back on his heels. “I thought—”

“No, just – just...hold on…”

Crowley pulled his hands free and shook them, rubbing at the back of his neck as he walked away, circling the entire bookshop in a few long, quick steps. Aziraphale could almost feel the nervous energy radiating off him.

“Would you be more comfortable sitting down? Or if we returned to your flat? Or—”

“I don’t think I’m going to be comfortable anywhere.” He raked long fingers through bright red hair, briefly piling it all onto his head before letting it tumble loose around his ears again. “What if it all goes wrong?”

The angel pressed his lips together, forcing down his own anxiety. Crowley needed him now, his strength, his support. Fortunately, Aziraphale had a lot of experience burying his doubts, presenting a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Of course it won’t,” Azirpahale chided gently, stepping up to Crowley, reaching for his hand. “I’ll be there, right beside you.” But Crowley just shook his head, turning further away. “Look at me, Crowley. Tell me what you’re afraid of. Tell me what you think might go wrong.”

“Everything!” Crowley stumbled back, pulling away, to stand in the center of the shop again. The panic was back in his eyes, wide and golden, irises expanding as if to devour the sclera. It wasn’t quite fear, nor pain, nor uncertainty that filled them, but some combination of the three, perhaps something greater, too. He’d be reaching for his glasses in a moment.

This time, Aziraphale moved more slowly, closing the distance, resting just a few fingers lightly by Crowley’s elbow. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...we don’t have to do this tonight.”

Crowley lifted his head to stare through the glass dome of the shop at the stars: miraculously bright, shining like diamonds, like beacons in the black night. He ached, and Aziraphale’s heart ached to see it.

“I don’t…” Crowley cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Aziraphale slid his hand down to meet Crowley’s, lacing their fingers together, and squeezed.

--

The dreams started shortly after the failed Apocalypse.

Just glimpses of the stars at first, a sense of drifting through them as he once had, so many eons ago that Crowley had all but forgotten.

But each night the dreams grew more vivid.

In his dreams he could see the stars, brilliant lights burning in the aether, inner fires swirling and pulsing like a storm. They sang to each other, they sang to their Starmaker, and Crowley’s heart sang back.

He dreamt of racing through them in his true form, a blazing streak of light lined with wings of fire, long body swirling in his wake like the tail of a comet, like fiery hair caught in the wind. Arcing around planets, setting their atmospheres to swirl and dance. Trailing his fingers through nebulae, creating columns a hundred light years long. Cupping the stars in his hands to breathe life into them, guiding them through their endless dance, their eternal journey.

“So...you’re remembering your time in Heaven.” Aziraphale sat back in his armchair, cup of tea still halfway to his lips. He hadn’t taken a sip in so long that Crowley was sure the angel had forgotten it was there; but the steam still curled past his face, like a veil, a gauzy curtain separating angel and demon.

Crowley looked away, frowning into his own cup of coffee, watching the cream create a bright spiral against the dark background.

He hadn’t wanted to say anything. For months, he’d kept it a secret.

Beautiful months, free of demands and pressure and fear. Days spent on long drives and longer walks, evenings filled with arguments and laughter, sipping wine and speaking of everything and nothing, awash with the simple joy of being together. Sometimes Aziraphale would slide onto the sofa beside him, and more than once Crowley had taken his hand, or rested an arm across his shoulders.

Nearly every night now, Crowley fell asleep on that sofa, drifting off to the sound of angelic humming from amongst the shelves, or the feel of soft fingers brushing through his hair.

Slowly, bit by bit, they broke down walls, building something better in their place.

But as the walls came down, things were revealed. Memories. Emotions. Thoughts perhaps better left unthought.

Crowley woke from his dream every morning distressed, panicked, sometimes crying out, or scrambling to grab at pillows, blankets, anything nearby. And Aziraphale hadn’t failed to notice.

“Not exactly,” Crowley finally conceded. “I’m not...building the stars in my dreams. It’s more like I’m...tending them.” He downed the entire cup of coffee in one gulp, feeling it burn down his throat. Considered miracling up another.

“I’m not sure I follow. Surely it’s the same thing.”

“Nnh. Not really, it’s…” It was something he’d never spoken of, had never even considered explaining to another; and now that he had to, Crowley found he didn’t know what to say. Some things could only be felt, not spoken. “I guess it’s two parts of the same thing, but different. During Creation we…made things, put elements together and…” he waved his arms vaguely. “We created, alright? That’s the job I had. But afterwards… Someone had to watch over the stars. Take care of them. Help them continue to grow.”

“Like a gardener.”

Nodding, Crowley refilled his cup, this time adding something stronger than cream and sugar to the coffee. “That’s what I dream about. The job I was supposed to have. After Creation. If I’d never Rebelled.”

“Tending the stars,” Aziraphale mused, finally setting his cup and saucer onto the desk. He leaned forward – stiffly, as he sometimes did when he’d sat still for too long – and rested his hands on his knees, carefully thinking over his next words.

They’d been circling the topic for weeks now, Aziraphale never quite asking a question, Crowley refusing to give any straight answers. A quiet, polite contest of wills that had ended abruptly when Crowley broke first. Since when was Aziraphale the patient one? When had he learned to keep his eyes so neutral? Every gesture made with such care, as if afraid to scare Crowley off.

Well, he had reason enough. Crowley’s whole body seemed to vibrate with energy, ready to run at any moment. Crowley didn’t know how telling Aziraphale was supposed to help, but if something didn’t change soon…

The angel tapped a finger against his own knee, thinking it all over. “The entire galaxy, you say. That’s...quite a large estate.”

“I guess.” Crowley squirmed in his seat.

“You must have been very important, to be granted such responsibility.”

“Who cares?” Crowley bit off the rest of his angry retort, sprawling back on the sofa, putting more space between them. His head rapped against the bookshelf behind him as he tilted it back, staring at the ceiling. “Didn’t count for shit, once I started asking questions.”

“They punished you.”

“Is that news?” snapped the Fallen. He could almost hear the voices, raised in argument. Feel the hands of Michael’s warriors, dragging him off to—

Fuck. There was a reason he never talked about this.

“They isolated me,” he went on, once his voice was under control. “From the other Starmakers. Pretty early on, long before there was any talk of...Exile or Rebellion. Said they didn’t want me giving the others ideas.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember the thin, clear music of the spheres. “They thought I’d be more obedient if they took away my stars. Just gave me more time to think, really.”

“I…see.” A long pause, silence broken only by the weight of a thousand books slowly settling onto their shelves. “Then...you’ve been alone for a very long time.” Crowley shrugged. In an even softer voice, Aziraphale asked: “Are you still alone in your dreams?”

“No.” His memories turned away from reality, and Crowley’s heart sped up in his chest. “No, I’m not…”

--

“Oh, my word!” Aziraphale’s voice reverberated across Crowley’s skin, sank deep into muscle, flitted around his mind like a cloud of fireflies. Crowley twisted, weaving his body between the stars of a binary system, letting the wings brush through solar flares, sending flashes of light swirling across the star system.

He smiled down at the Principality cupped in his hand, golden body glowing in a faint reflection of starlight.

The two wings Aziraphale wore down his back were shorter and broader than the ones he wore on Earth, more like feathered butterfly wings than those of a swan. More short wings stretched from wrist to elbow, and a feathery crown circled his brow in place of eyes and ears, marking him as a Principality. Two interlocking halos surrounded Aziraphale’s head, slowly turning, dozens of eyes in every shape and color gazing in wonder across Creation.

“Can you hear the music?” Crowley asked, twisting away through the immense void between one star and the next. “It’s everywhere, even all the way out here.”

The starsong wasn’t just something you heard, it was something you felt and saw, a symphony of heat and microwave radiation and stellar winds, things only the highest choirs of angels were able to perceive. So Crowley sang as he flew, shifting his colors, translating the song for Aziraphale.

“It sounds like something Bach would write,” the angel laughed, hands gripping Crowley’s thumb like the mast of a ship. “Sebastian, I mean, or possibly—”

Crowley bent his long head closer, singing more insistently, breath ruffling Aziraphale’s feathers. The Principality laughed again, resting a hand on Crowley’s cheek and trying to sing along. He could feel Aziraphale’s joy and wonder surging through his veins.

“There!” Crowley’s deep voice reverberated between the stars, even as his chest continued to hum in harmony with them. “It’s another of mine!” He pointed at the nebula, greens and yellows and reds stretching across a quarter of the sky. “Let me show you.”

He turned his wings, arching around the nearest star, dragging his fingers through the corona, gathering just a pinch of brilliant starfire.

“I can’t believe you made all this,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, trying to take in the scope of it all, the forest of clouds that could swallow entire systems.

“Well, I had a little help,” Crowley conceded, offering the starfire. Aziraphale accepted it in a flutter of wings, a miniature sun almost too big for him to carry, and cradled it against his chest.

Crowley pulled the Principality closer, cradling him in much the same way – feeling again the delicate touch of one hand wrapped around his finger – then tucked his many wings and dove, the glowing beauty of the galaxy shooting past on either side. When Aziraphale gasped, it sent a thrill of pleasure straight to Crowley’s heart.

Together they spun through the nebula, columns of gas and stellar nurseries on either side. They raced against comets, skimmed over gas giants, darted from one constellation to the next.

When the black hole at the center of it all loomed close, Crowley snapped open a pair of wings – and another – and another, catching the surge of radiation, riding it up, up, up in slow circles until the entire Milky Way was laid out below them, until the emptiness around them was lit by the glow of a thousand galaxies.

“Oh, Crowley,” sighed the angel, face illuminated by the ball of starfire like frosted glass over a candle. “It’s all so...beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He lifted Aziraphale so that his many eyes could take it all in, but Crowley’s own gaze never left his smile. “It’s all yours, Angel. Anywhere you want to go.”

--

“That sounds...lovely,” sighed Aziraphale from across the room.

“Shut up.” Crowley glared at a small potted plant next to the register, which sheepishly straightened its stem. “Sounds...cheesy. Stupid. Like something out of a romance movie, and not even one of the good ones with clever writing.”

“Well, yes. It does.” The sofa shifted under a new weight, and two soft hands enveloped Crowley’s right, drawing it to rest on Aziraphale’s knee. “It also sounds lovely.”

Crowley grunted. His eyes had made their way from the ceiling to the floor, and now he studied how the faded carpet contrasted with the rich brown boards.

The past few months, they’d been able to communicate openly, freely, like never before. They’d been able to be honest with each other, gently circling around the things they really wanted to say, finding the words a few at a time. There was no rush. They had eternity.

But being honest with Aziraphale opened Crowley to being honest with himself, in ways he’d never imagined, in ways he’d come to regret.

He was consumed by emotions.

Crowley always presented himself as superficial, a demon who liked things fast and fresh and cool, jumping from one fashion to the next. It was easier to survive if everyone assumed there was nothing below the surface, no hidden plans or desires that might cause trouble for his superiors. It was easier to live with himself if he pretended not to have hidden depths, that his future contained no hopes, that his past was free of scars.

But Crowley had always felt deeply. And he could no longer deny who he was.

He’d lost all control of them, the complex emotions that, finally released from their cages, threatened to swallow him whole. Fears that couldn’t be contained by words. Losses too deep for him to fully grasp. And a millennia-long desire that moved out of the realm of language entirely.

He wondered how much Aziraphale had suspected. He’d honestly expected the angel to say something first, months ago, release a torrent of emotions in a few carefully selected words. Had something held him back? Or had he just been unsure of Crowley’s feelings?

Well, he’d have a pretty good picture of things after hearing the dream. Crowley stared at the floor ahead of him, heat rising in his face, knowing it was coming, waiting for Aziraphale to ask, to question, to demand Crowley cram everything he felt into three little words that would never contain it all…

Instead, Aziraphale squeezed his hand again and gently prodded: “Tell me the rest.”

“What rest? I wake up.” Crowley’s legs had gone tense. He needed to pace, to shake off the feelings bubbling up inside, but he wasn’t willing to relinquish that warm grip just yet. “I snap back to reality. Dream over.” A quick glance to the side, enough to see Aziraphale wasn’t buying it. “That’s all. The end. Nothing to tell.”

“Please.” One hand held Crowley’s steadily while the other gently pressed his shoulder. “I’ve seen how upset you are when you wake.”

“Ngk. I just—” Panic started clawing its way up his throat. “Probably – don’t want to drink your lousy coffee, you think of that?”

“Crowley.”

“S’nothing! You just – that’s how people are when they wake up. Demons, too. It’s, it’s disorienting, is what it is. You should try it sometime instead of – whatever you do all night.”

“Crowley.”

“Mgrf. And especially if I fall off your bloody sofa, happens – all the time, right? Why don’t you get – get something comfortable if you want me here? Crack my head on the floor first thing, that’ll upset someone.”

“Crowley…”

“Stop, just stop!” He leapt to his feet and tried to stalk away, but the back room left nowhere to go. With a huff, Crowley spun around, arms wide. “Fine. You want the truth?”

Aziraphale still sat on the sofa, hands folded on his lap, endlessly patient. “That’s all I want.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[utterlyinevitable]

bryce and mc 22.30.

22. things you said after it was over 30. things I wish you’d said

From the things you said prompt list. Send me a pairing and number and I’ll write a mini fic!

What If

Rating: M because there’s light NSFW in the flashback. If you’d like to read the rest of the fic, I’ve noted the beginning and end of the intimacy with ~NSFW~. And by light I mean there’s fingering and trying not to get caught. 

Summary: They were something to one another years ago, and now they’re back in the same old town with the same old friends wondering ‘What If’.  

Category: Angst

A/N: So this is part of an AU where Bryce and Hannah (MC) knew one another as kids and did a delicate, complicated dance between feelings and intimate actions - navigating sexuality, propriety and desire. 

This piece is them again meeting years later.  

Thank you @withbeautyandrage and @lucy-268 for talking this idea through with me.  

Series Soundtrack: The 1 - Taylor Swift; Tolerate It - Taylor Swift; Honest - Bazzi; 3:15 - Bazzi; Almost (Sweet Music) - Hoizer; Closer - The Chainsmokers (feat. Halsey); Satisfied - Hamilton Soundtrack; If The World Was Ending - JP Saxe (feat. Julia Michaels); Closure - Taylor Swift; Cardigan - Taylor Swift   

_________________

Just like old times, the clan of former high school friends were relaxed together around the same old bonfire of their usual spot beside the residing shore. Hannah had come back home for the first few weeks of summer in what felt like eons since moving away and starting her new life in Tennessee. 

Unknown to the group of eight, it was also the first time Bryce ventured home since leaving for college.

The second he had rolled up onto their usual sandy spot in his trusty Jeep Wrangler, Bryce was welcomed with open arms and slaps on the back from others in the gang; the old pals embracing as if no time had passed at all. Most of them had done the exact same with Hannah hours earlier.

Though Hannah stayed perched on the weathered log she claimed earlier, gaze darting from the animated scene his presence stirred and to the burning embers and crashing waves. Looking for anything to keep her hidden from him. 

It had been years since Hannah and Bryce had been in the same time and place. Never did it occur to her that he’d be back too - she assumed she’d never see him again. Bryce lived in California now. They lived on opposite sides of the country and had severed contact well before she left for Nashville. It had been a few years since the inevitable blow out that destroyed it all. Hannah fled and rebuilt, while Bryce… did whatever Bryce was up to now. Neither really had a reason to be back here and now, with all of them, since departing. 

Yet here they were. 

Loud, excitable conversation died down as old friends made their way back to the pit.

“I can’t believe he’s here!” Lina exclaimed in tipsy disbelief to no one in particular. “Did anyone know he’s back in town?”  

Hannah looked up from the grains of sand that scratched against her bare feet and to her childhood friend who’s hazy brown eyes were questioning her and the other three young adults more intrigued with their drinks and phones than the grand return. Hannah gave a light shrug and shook her head slowly. 

Lina hmm’d before bounding away, not entirely convinced no one knew Bryce Lahela was back in town.

Out of the corner of Hannah’s eye she saw him; the boy she left behind long ago. 

Damn. 

He grew up. 

He was the exact opposite of the Bryce Lahela she knew. For Christ's sake, Bryce was wearing skinny jeans! Black skinny jeans, alongside a gray Henley with the top two buttons undone. Something he never would have worn back when she knew him.

Choice of clothing was just where the differences began. His body was now defined and muscular, and he seemed taller, somehow, standing just above six foot; compared to the soft and toned seventeen-year-old version of Bryce who stood just a couple inches taller than her back in the day. He had more definition in his face, drawing attention to his strong jawline with five o’clock shadow ever present, and his eyes - his effervescent eyes - were still the same shade of honey, inviting her back in. 

The Bryce she grew up with would have never been seen the way she was seeing Bryce now. The sight quite honestly left her grappling for oxygen. 

It had been half a decade since their last encounter, still he had such an affect on her. 

Bryce greeted everyone like the social butterfly he was known as, moving counterclockwise around the fire pit to say hello to those who didn’t run into his arms moments before.

She hoped he hadn’t seen her. She hoped that between the new hairdo and clothes she was wearing, and the towering flames of the fire were enough to hide her in plain sight. She hoped that he’d pretend she wasn’t here - she wasn’t ready to talk about the ghosts of their past quite yet, if ever.  

All too soon, he was standing in front of her, his black and white classic Converse settling into the sand first. Then his golden eyes landed on Hannah - her blue eyes trained on the brown glass bottle in her hands, fingers picking at the label. Her skin pricked with goosebumps at the all-too-familiar and enticing heat radiating from him. Her mouth dried out and all sense of vocabulary left her. 

Her eyes met his - deep ocean met the sandy shore. 

Shit. 

His face lit up into a warm, bright smile, his not so foreign lips curving against his perfectly aligned teeth. 

“You’re back!” Bryce exclaimed, leaning closer towards her to pull her into a hug, like nothing had happened the last time they saw each other. Like they never ended on a bad note. 

That same old electricity tingled through them as Hannah gave him a half-hearted embrace back. 

“For a few days,” she nodded uncomfortably as they pulled away. 

“It’s good to see you, Han,” he said, none the wiser to her reservations. “Hear you’ve been making waves inland.” 

The goofy grin that was stuck on his face transported her back to their youth; the memories forming an involuntary smirk. For a moment, she was back to being just a girl lost in the comforting sunshine of her friend’s brother. 

“I’m loving it.” It was the most honest words she’s ever spoken to him. “Didn’t think I’d be happy out in the countryside but I am.”

“I’m glad. You deserve it.” 

The air between them hung in an awkward silence briefly, before their encounter ended all too suddenly. They could have talked more - Bryce wanted to talk more - but he was pulled away, leaving Hannah to stir in the sand. 

***

As the evening progressed the friends drank through multiple packs of beer and roasted marshmallows over the dwindling fire; reminisced and told stories of the adventures they had been on since the last time they all had gathered together. The odd thing about all the laughs, volleyball tossing and friendly roasting was that they all ebbed and flowed together like not a single fallout or argument had happened. 

Yes, it was comforting to be around her people again, but it felt unnatural after so long. So much had happened. 

Surely they all would have grown apart by now. 

There were moments where it felt like they were all playing a children's game of pretend. A spell of silence would fall upon the antiquated schoolmates, a quiescence where she could hear the cicadas chirp and the waves crash and her own heartbeat drum in her ears. A silence that would last until someone would offer a random quip, and everyone would start laughing, brushing off the obvious displacement. An unsaid vow cloaking the air like a bubble of the past, each individual stringently holding onto the replication of what they once were. 

Just like every gathering back then, eventually, Bryce and Hannah found their way to one another. 

He was sitting in the open trunk of his car, his long legs slightly swinging back and forth as he gazed out in the distance. Bryce watched his old friends’ antics and the waves constantly crashing to the shore; the deep blue sea complimenting the hues of the warm-tone oranges, pinks and yellows of the falling sunset.  

“Hey,” she greeted as she approached him, a soft smile spreading across her pink lips. 

Her cheeks rosy and flushed, her body walking back in time before her sensible brain could recover from the inhibitions she downed like a vice. Just like the sea Hannah was drawn to him - a repetitive habit she couldn’t quite quit. She could pull away again and again but he’d always be there - soft, auspicious assurance welcoming her back. 

She should have felt cautious under his watchful eye that still knew her more than either cared to give notice to. But she didn’t. All she felt was the warmth stirring through her veins. She threw caution to the wind and took a chance. Years passed and the hatchet was nowhere in sight. 

Bryce smiled back, patting the empty space beside him; 

“Hey.” 

Wordlessly and without a semblance of previous hesitation, Hannah joined him. 

The two watched the antics of their formerly chosen family from the sidelines, letting the salt filled air lull them into a hushed tranquility. A feeling so peaceful it was like they were off visiting an unknown land for the very first time, and realizing they’ve wasted so much time elsewhere. 

No words were spoken between the two, instead, their bodies fell back into place; inching closer and closer together with each wave that fell over the shoreline, to a point where their shoulders were just a breath away from touching.

The group didn’t notice their absence, and frankly neither did they. Between the two of them, the darkening sky and the fresh air, comfort embraced them, transported them back in time. A sort of amenity that wasn’t felt when they were huddled amongst the group. 

As if the universe was begging for them to dive into this cliché movie moment, a gruff breeze swept upon them, rustling Hannah’s loose amber locks over her face and sending a forceful chill up her spine. 

Bryce didn’t think twice before leaning slightly away from her and further into his car. He pulled a discarded cardigan from the messy back seat and then returned to his place just an inch beside her, draping the soft fabric over her shoulders. Hannah looked up at him with thankful eyes, observing the faint sparkle in his golden irises as he looked back at her. 

The scent that fell off of his beloved cardigan intoxicated her farther; the soft, musky cologne attracting her to him. So unconsciously, she didn’t even realize her head had found purchase on his shoulder, the fresh spritz against his body mixing with the afternotes on the fabric and clogging her senses. Until Bryce let out a little chuckle, proceeding to wrap his arm around her and pulling her even closer towards him.

Naturally, Hannah snuggled into his enviable warmth, nuzzling the top of her head in the crook of his neck. Their bodies pressed together, melding like so many times before.  

Minutes passed as he held her close, the sky turning into a deep purple with the sun nearly set at the horizon.  

The words, so soft compared to his normal jovial cadence, departed his tongue so slowly, as if they were never meant to come out at all; 

“That night, what were you going to say before you chickened out?”

His low whisper crackled in her eardrums, pulling her from the peaceful tableau she had carved out of ignorant pretenses. 

Bryce felt her entire being tense under him. 

In the most passive, Hannah way possible, she tried to play dumb, “What night?” 

Bryce let a miniscule ounce of space come between them, just enough to let himself look at her full face. Her gaze was straight ahead, eyelids drooping as the wind died down, and Bryce couldn’t decipher if it’s because she wanted to disappear or if the alcohol had finally taken hold. 

It didn’t matter. He pressed on; 

“You know...” 

Of course she knew. She thought about that night way more than she’d care to admit. The what if’s still haunted her in her sleep. That night could have changed everything. 

The quartet of teenagers had the whole house to themselves one Saturday night at Trevor’s family home. Ironically, in a building with more than enough space, they found themselves piling on top of each other in Trevor’s room. For some unforsaken reason, the group preferred being cramped on his full sized bed instead of sprawling out in the den with the 60” television. 

In the middle of the 4’ by 6’ bed was Trevor himself, and then Lina on his right, the two of them completely engrossed in some forgettable YouTube videos playing on Trevor’s laptop. Hannah was to Trevor’s left, Bryce on her other side; the two laying so close. Pressed right up against one another and their fingers overlapping under the brown fleece blanket covering just them. Unintentional closeness on her part, she couldn’t speak for Bryce. 

They had been in close proximity before - many almosts before - but nothing so intimate. 

The videos kept the group entertained. Three sets of eyes glued to the laptop screen; a rogue set of courageous honey contemplating the violet haired girl next to him instead. This was as close as they had ever been. 

So Bryce began testing the waters. 

~NSFW Start~

His rough forefinger began tracing patterns over the soft skin at the top of her hand. Circles. Figure eights. Light affection pouring into the dips of her knuckles. Warm breath purposefully flitting from his lips, set to meet the shell of her ear and caressing down her neck. She’d squirm in response, her senses aflame, egging him further on. Bryce’s left hand then trailed up her arm and back down, from her fingertips and, boldly, venturing off course to the swell of her tight jean clad hip. His right arm inconspicuously inching its way under her head, cradling against him with his palm at her chest. 

Hannah had to bite back gasps as he continued his wanton ministrations. Her mind was beginning to fog, newly straightened teeth sunk into the inside of her lip to keep her grounded to reality. Her dark azure eyes heavy lidded and concentrating on the glow of the laptop screen illuminating Trevor and Lina so close by. 

Hannah had had fantasies of what it would be like to call Bryce hers. The two had been doing a delicate dance between balancing their friendship expectations and navigating clandestine feelings. This certainly was not how she ever envisioned or imagined their first escapade going. Though she certainly wasn’t going to call it quits. Hannah wasn’t going to risk the wait of another few months for something to transpire - at any moment they would ruin this. Just like they’ve done many times before.  

Somehow, some way, through the discreet and captivated wriggling, she ended up laying on Bryce. Chest to chest. Nothing between them but flimsy clothing, and a blanket shielding their bodies from the others.  

The videos kept playing and neither were attentive to anything other than their racing hearts keeping time. Hannah kept her eyes on their friends, an excuse for their compromising position sitting at the tip of her tongue, readied like a sniper’s bullet. Bryce had other ideas for their use of time and place; to make the most of this rare moment alone with the girl he’d been heavily flirting with for over a year. With the girl he had a running bet with. With the girl who’s mind and sensibilities were so wild and enchanting. With the girl he wanted for longer than he could remember. 

Under the cover of fleece, Bryce’s soft hands began to wander further than just her arms. Wandering the places he spent many hours wondering about. 

His fingers slipped under her top to trace deliberate, pulse quickening patterns on the skin of her back before moving lower. 

And lower. 

And passed the elastic of her cotton underwear.  

Hannah had to stifle a light gasp. 

Bryce ceased all movements immediately. His inexperienced hands still, waiting. Could he really have read her signals all wrong? 

Her mind started racing. Here? Now? 

This was more than she bargained for. She glanced over at Lina and Trevor, still munching on popcorn and blissfully unaware of the sacchariferous vexing going down. Her heart gave her mind a run for its money. What does he think he’s doing? 

It’s now or maybe never. 

Hannah grabbed a fistful of his tee. 

Bryce was about to retract his hands and his audacious plan completely when she, ever so invitingly, moved up his body and rolled her hips against his just once. Shallow and uncertain, yet all the encouragement he needed. Bryce bit the inside his lip to keep the bright smile from breaking their cover as he continued to roam and discover her supple body. He began committing her womanly curves to memory. This was his shot and who knows when they’d be able to do this again. 

Hannah rested her frazzled head in the crook of his neck, one eye tasked with keeping look out. She’d never been so thankful for a blanket and their friends’ oblivious tendencies in her life. 

Bryce and Hannah weren’t dating. They weren’t anything but two teens who liked to flirt and keep one another company late into the night. They had deep, thoughtful conversations in the same breath as challenges and sexual innuendos. There was never a lack of conversation between them. 

But there was a lack of communication. Neither were willing to break barriers and admit their feelings out loud. Neither willing to ruin whatever delicate dance they found themselves endlessly twirling to when no one was watching. 

They were complicated.   

Bryce’s hips gradually thrusted up to coax her legs open; nudging them apart with a roll of his leg when she was taking a little too long to respond to his desire. Hannah was settled on him, pelvis to pelvis and she could feel his want between them. His hands spent so much time massaging her butt and pressing her into him. Pleasure coursing through him with every bit of added pressure. Yet he hadn’t gotten a single reaction from her, aside from a few deep breaths. Bryce knew he needed to change tactics. His firm fingers started dancing into dangerous territory beneath her clothes; trailing over her round hip and snaking between their bodies.  

Hannah bit down on her tongue. Her body responded before she even could process the sensation. Her hips rolled forwards the second he found her core, begging for more friction. Needing it in ways she couldn’t comprehend. Her eyes shut tight, face nuzzling further into the soft skin of his neck. 

Jackpot. Bryce smiled to himself. 

The pads of his deft fingers moved in tantalizing circles over her clit causing Hannah to grind into him faster, harder, purposefully, without foresight. With his free hand Bryce had to grip her hips tightly to keep from rousing the others’ to their nefarious act. He did all he could to steady her while also keeping pace, keeping her body responding to him in ways he’d only ever heard about before. In ways he finally had the courage to explore. She felt so good in his arms and pressed up against him, and his fingers were gliding in her wetness, and he could faintly hear the moans she tried desperately to swallow, and those little keens had him wishing they were alone, so he could feel the rest of her and she could feel him and...

And... 

And... 

Her breathing became ragged, one of her hands moving willfully to press three regulating fingers to her mouth, and she couldn’t think straight. Something awoke deep within her, and she needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone before. 

She couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Oh my god...” the whispered words tumbled against the shell of his ear. 

She didn’t mean to say it. She wasn’t planning on uttering a single word. Hannah was too lost in the confusion and pleasure building within her that the words just slipped out.  

“What?” Bryce whispered confidently, curiously, like he knew what he was doing to her.

His voice jolted Hannah back into sensibility. 

They shouldn’t be doing this. There were other people in the room. He’s Keiki’s brother. They couldn’t be anything. 

She released her grip on his shirt and willed her body to seize all lecherous responses.

“Nothing.” 

She averted his gaze, hiding her shameful lust on his shoulder. 

~NSFW End~

“It doesn’t matter.” Hannah shook her head resolutely. “It changes nothing.” 

But Bryce never let her get away with anything; 

“If nothing changes then no harm in sharing.” 

She huffed and expelled a sigh, grasping for any valid reason to keep the bittersweet truth to herself. Unfortunately, Hannah couldn’t find a single excuse. They both had moved on and were happy in their new lives. There wasn’t a single thing that could deter them from the paths they’ve carved out for themselves.  

“It changes nothing,” she relayed once again. 

Hannah shifted in place, meeting his true gaze for the first time in ages. She paused before holding her pinky up in the air, “Promise.” 

Bryce took the bait and linked their pinkies together tightly with his free hand. “I promise.” 

They were silent. Hannah knew the earth would shake the moment the words left her lips. She was afraid of the same things she was scared of nearly a decade ago. 

“So?” he urged expectantly. 

Hannah took in a cleansing, exhilarative gust of air. 

It’s now or maybe never.  

Finally, as softly, as impartially, as she could muster, she uttered the words she should have proclaimed years ago; 

“‘I want you’.” 

The breeze vanished completely. And so did everything else around them - no friends howling in the distance, no crackling fire, no chirping cicadas, no rustling of waves. Just these two people with hearts beating out of synch. 

Her words settled around them along with all the rampant what-if’s. 

All Bryce could do or say in regards to the new information was one simple sentiment; 

“Shit.”

________________________________________

A/N: if you made it this far, thank you for reading this little bit of repressed projection. This is something I’ve had on my mind for a while and didn’t feel confident putting into words. It’s based on real things™️ and feelings under the disguise of Bryce and Hannah.

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Bryce

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[anjuschiffer]

To Find Home [Jasonette BROTP]

More self-indulging writing! :D Mainly because I see some fics where Jason isn’t desperately searching for Mari... ENJOY!

Edit: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT HOW THE POST WAS MESSED UP?!

@-@-@-@-@

AO3

@-@-@-@-@

Jason rose to the water’s surface in desperation, clawing at the water, his body on fire. His lungs were adjusting to the chilling air and his senses attempted to calibrate to his new surroundings for a second time. 

Get back to her.

For some reason that phrase rang stronger than before through his head, motivating him to get out of the water and run. He dressed himself with clothing he found along the way of his escape, faces barely registering as he ran past people, their voices muted as they tried to grab him back.

He didn’t dare let him lay a finger on him, fighting through the burning soreness in his calves.

He had to get back to her no matter what.

-----

Ignoring the groaning man by the door, Jason huddled next to the fire, warming himself up after running in the snow for who-knows how long. He found a cabin and quickly seeked refuge, not caring if he had to hurt a man in the process.

After all, it was all to find her… her? Who was her, or rather she? 

What was her name? 

Ma. Mari. Mari. It was Mari. 

That’s right! He had to get back to Mari… but how?

XXX-XXX-XX-XX-XX-XX 

A number! A phone number! 

What was the number? Her number?

Would it still work?

Jason ran his hand through his hair, stopping as he reached the tips of them. While they weren’t to his shoulder, they were definitely too long to be considered short. 

He froze.

How much time has passed? And… Where was he?

How was he going to get back to Mari?

Jason looked out the snowy window, knowing there was no time to waste if he wanted to find Mari as soon as possible.

Taking a few things from the cabin, Jason headed out the door, thanking the injured man as he closed the door behind him.

-----

Jason waited for his coffee as he went over what he was able to gather from just walking to the closest town. 

(Where he had grabbed the money? Old habits die hard he guessed...)

First off, the place he managed to escape from was on a mountain.

There was fucking snow on that mountain. 

He barely understands the languages that were spoken here. 

German was widely spoken here, in which he barely understood. 

He thought he was in Germany for that matter, but quickly replaced it with Switzerland. 

Germany only had German as its official language, but the official languages here also included Italian, Romansh and French. 

And French… Jason understood better than German.

He had a feeling Mari had something to do with him knowing the basics of French, conversational French for that matter.

He was able to confirm that this was indeed in Switzerland through a French speaking resident, finding out he was hours away from France. Which led him to his next dilemma. 

Money. 

Jason chuckled into his coffee at this setback, wondering why he thought it was a problem. He was going to find a way to get to France, to manage to snag a ride there. 

Surprisingly he did, at least, for half the way he was able to. 

Catching the train wasn’t hard, even pretending to have a ticket for that train wasn’t hard. The problem with Jason was that he had a hard time staying out of trouble.

He was quickly found in the kitchen of the train he stowed away on, stuffing his mouth and bag with food before being chased out of the train, Jason having to resort to jumping out of the train to avoid being shot. 

He badly wanted to shoot back, but didn’t when he realized that there were children around the same age as Mari in the cabins, Jason quickly dismissing that idea as soon as it came.

That led him to being stranded again, having to walk to the nearest town in search of information once more. Of course, he would have to go to the center of the town. More information was gathered standing there than sitting at a pub in the outskirts.

Luckily, Jason found one in record time.

However, a waft of something made him detour towards reaching the center of the town. This waft was familiar, almost nostalgic. 

Jason didn’t realize he was following the aroma until he got to the source of familiarity, cradling his head as snippets of his memories came back to him. 

Alfred… recipes… Mari… bread… home… family…

Staggering, Jason opened the bakery doors and made his way to the baskets of bread, his mind already placing names onto the breads he swore he didn't know the names of. 

Ficelle, Fougasse, Pain de campagne and… Brioche…

Mari liked brioche. Something about it being the first recipe she learned. 

The man asked if he needed any help with the baked goods, Jason shaking his head, picking up the brioche. 

“1.65” Jason muttered to himself as he looked at the price tag of the brioche; 165. !65!

Quickly placing the bread at the counter and paying for it, Jason also asked to use their phone, getting a look from the bakery owner.

Okay, let’s try that again. Nearest phone?

The man gave him an address and directions to where Jason could use a public phone, Jason thanking him and promptly leaving the tiny bakery. 

-----

“‘011’ because I’m from America, ‘33’ because you’re from France, 165 because it’s the number that won us the toy, 619 because I hate that wrestler and 623 because it’s the day we met.” Jason said to himself as he dialed the number, waiting for someone to pick up, only for the operator to tell him that the number was invalid. 

Jason hung the phone before picking it up again to only once more hang the phone. 

Invalid? Invalid. Invalid!

Jason picked up the phone once more, knowing what he had to do.

01 6561 96 23. 

America, he was no longer in. In France, it was the place he was in. 01 because he was in France. The rest was his way to her. 

The phone rang, Jason tapping the tiny shelf like counter in the booth, when he heard a click. 

He eagerly greeted the person in English, started to talk to Mari about how he was in France now and-

“Désolé monsieur, mais vous avez le mauvais numéro.” And with that, the person hung up, leaving Jason back to square one. 

Slamming the phone back into its place, Jason left the phone booth, wondering if he really had to search for Mari from scratch.

A month passed as Jason finally made his way to Paris, using whatever little leads he got from where Mari could possibly be. After tracking down certain names he remembered writing to her about and different landmarks she would mention, it directed him to Paris. Aside from these pieces of information, he also let his memories guide him. Using the bakery he first went to as a guide, he would enter every bakery -whether a family runned one or a professional one- to taste the pastries. 

None of them tasted the way Mari told him her father made them. 

None of them used rice in their bread, causing some of them to scoff or even laugh at the concept. 

However, one person did tell him where he was able to find such a marvelous technique: Paris. 

So there was Jason, about to start his search for his little sister when a black car pulled up to him, the tinted window rolling down. 

Jason’s eyes narrowed. While his memories have returned for the majority, Jason would’ve never forgotten the name of the man in front of him.

“Bruce.”

-----

Another month was wasted thanks to Bruce dragging Jason back to Gotham, Jason escaping him various times along the way. The only escape Jason would even look at as a success was when he jumped out of the plane while they were over the Atlantic Ocean. It took Bruce a whole week to catch Jason on the shores of some remote island.

The game of cat and mouse ended once Bruce placed a tracking device on all of Jason’s things, essentially placing him under house arrest. 

Jason managed to find where all the tracking devices were at after a few days, but even then, he was caught by Bruce, being thrown off his motorbike and taken back to the Cave. That led to him sitting in front of the supercomputer, watching minor crimes happen in Gotham.

He huffed, watching the old man take down one crime after another. He watched as Bruce-

The supercomputer! Jason laughed, his laughs bouncing throughout the Cave, giving a scare to the other residents. 

He had all the information he needed right here! Why didn’t- 

Realizing his stupidity, Jason banged his head on the table.

“You alright Jason?”

“Timmy, right?” Ignoring the ‘It’s Tim’ correction, “Want to help me locate someone?” The twinkle that appeared in Tim’s eyes reminded him of a certain someone.

“Who are we looking for?” Tim asked, Jason wondering if this was the right person to ask, especially when he wanted to know where Tim got a hold of that coffee machine that wasn’t there moments ago.

“Not we, me.” Jason clarified, noting to never ask Tim again to help him out. Nor to ever meet Mari… ever.

-----

After a few days of using the resources at the tips of his fingers (and help from Tim), Jason had finally done it. 

He felt the ends of his lip curve upwards, a surge of happiness swell inside of him when he finished composing the file he needed. 

A pair of bluebell eyes stared back at him, her midnight hair tied into low pigtails, the red ribbons added a nice contrast to her hair. 

Jason stuffed the file into his bag and grabbed his leather jacket and made his way to the deep portion of the cave. 

However, a hand on his shoulder prevented him from advancing. 

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked, his hand gripping on Jason’s shoulder. Hitting the hand away, Jason stared at Bruce. 

“To find my sister. So move.” 

Jason was glad to not be asked more questions, even if the murmurs behind his back sent a shiver down his spine. 

-----

Jason took one last breath as he saw Marinette walk down the stairs of the school with her head hung low. 

He wanted to run over and hug her to cheer her up, but decided against it as it would ruin his surprise visit, although the bigger question was if she still remembered him. Did she?

She’s grown since the last time he had seen her, which was eons ago. Her skin looked tanner than before, but her eyes seemed much older than what they should be. They shrouded in tiredness and longing, in determination and misery. 

But he was about to change that, whether the two were prepared for the future or not. 

It was now or never, hoping this didn’t end in complete failure. 

Taking a deep breath and cupping his hands around his mouth, “PIXIE!”

The way she perked up at the name and began to look around to who had called her brought tears to his eyes. She still remembered! “PIXIE!” He yelled again, watching as her eyes landed on him, her hands quickly covering her lips as tears formed in her eyes. The corners of his lip wobbled as they curved upwards. 

Jason ran up to the girl, scooping her into a squishing embrace. “Pixie Pop! We meet again.”

“Jason.” Marinette softly said, trying her best to suppress her quaking voice. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” 

Stepping away, placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a smile. 

“Of course it is Marinette.” He wiped away her tears with his thumb. “I told you I would come to Paris one day.” He grinned. “I always keep my promises.” 

Marinette let out a wail before throwing herself at him, causing him to step back. Despite being smaller than him, she showed she was stronger than she looked like. 

She cried into his shirt, Jason having to awkwardly lead her to the side as other students watched the two in complete befuddlement. 

They were finally together, finally able to see each other after several years, almost a decade since they last saw each other in the flesh. 

After what seems\ed like minutes, Marinette sniffled one last time before giving Jason a smile. 

“Ever since you stopped mailing me letters and stopped calling me every Friday night, I thought you had gotten annoyed with me.”

“What!” Jason was hurt. “Why would I ever get bored of you Nettie?” He hugged her. “You’re my sister, whom I love dearly.” At that, Marinette smiled, but something made Jason shiver. 

“Then why haven’t you kept in touch?” Marinette said in a growl. Jason gulped. “Why haven’t I received something from you for the past four years?!” 

“H-has it really been that long?” Jason inquired, just realizing that he never questioned the quick passage of time.

“You see, about that-“

“Well if it isn’t Marinette.” A voice interrupts their sweet reunion, Jason watching as Marinette tensed up before her body laced into defense. “See you got a new boy toy.” Marinette scowled. 

“First off, how dare you assume that!” Marinette looked at Jason. “Jason, this is Lila- my new bully since last semester.” She then turned to Lila with a smirk. “Lila, this is Jason… my older brother.” Marinette watched as blood in Lila’s face drained from her face before returning. 

“Sure, whatever you say Marinette.” Lila got nose to nose with Marinette. “We both know what you're really up to. And for the record, this won’t give you brownie points in trying to get Adrien to look your way.” 

“For the record Lila, I’m already over Adrien, ever since I found out he already had someone he likes.”

“Oh?” She flipped her hair, thinking she had finally won. “Do tell.”

“Sure thing.” Placing a hand in her hip, Marinette smiled. “Her name is Ladybug and he’s head over heels for her, every inch of his desk covered in her. From photos to merch. If I were you, I’d give up. After all, you could never light a candle to her.”

Seething, Lila raises her hand to slap Marinette, only to be overpowered by Jason. 

Grabbing hold of her wrist, he jerks her forward, using that momentum to pin her arm behind her, holding her in an armlock. While it seemed like he was hugging her from behind, only the trio knew what was actually going on. 

All of Lila’s spunk and superiority fled from her being, Lila now whimpering as she felt something dig into her back. It was cold and round, fear instilling into Lila when she heard the cocking of a trigger. 

“Listen here bitch. If I ever hear or see you raising even a finger against my sister, I’ll make sure your life becomes a living hell.” Lila let out a wobbly scoff. 

“L-Listen here! My mother is a diplomat for the Italian Embassy and when she hears that you’re threatening her little girl, a mere child, she’ll-.” Lila felt her heart stop when Jason pressed the gun further into her back. She felt him loom over her ear. 

“You think you’re above the law just because you’re some diplomat’s daughter? Bitch please, I am the Law.” Jason let out a chuckle. “The world wouldn’t care if one mere child went missing, nonetheless be better off with one less diplomat.”

Jason let go of Lila, watching as she stumbled to recompose herself, watching as she trembled like a newborn fawn. “So do me a favor and play nice because Big Brother is always watching.” 

With that, Lila scampered away, leaving a shocked Marinette. 

Jason smirked only for it to drop when he saw Marinette look at him with anger in her eyes. 

“Jason Todd.” He gulped. Shit. “Why the hell do you have a gun in your possession?!”

Good thing Bruce wasn’t here or else he would have something new to bother him with. 

Little did he know Bruce heard everything. That one bug he couldn’t find? 

It was in the holster of his favorite gun. 

-----

“Maman, Papa! I’m back!” Marinette yelled from the door, guiding Jason into the bakery, a rush of nostalgia hitting him. 

The waft of different breads welcomed him back, as if they’d been expecting him for a while, the scolding Marinette gave him at the school long forgotten. 

This was what he was looking for. 

Jason looked around the bakery, noticing the brioche. He took one with caution before he swallowed it whole, resisting the urge to cry. 

It was just like he remembered it. Warm and filled with love and kindness. 

“Jason!” He jumped, almost choking on the piece he technically stole. “This is my Maman and Papa.” Marinette introduced, motioning to the people beside her. 

A small stature woman and a tall plump man stood by Marinette, Jason now seeing where Marinette got her features and personality from. 

“Um… hello.” Jason awkwardly said, not knowing if he should stretch out his hand or not. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Jason Todd. I-“

Jason felt as he was lifted off the ground, his entire body enveloped in warmth. It was… nice. 

“So you’re the Jason that’s been writing Marinette all these years!” Tom exclaimed, putting Jason down. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“We were worried when your mail stopped arriving and when you no longer called.” Sabine spoke up, giving Jason an embrace of her own. “And we got even more worried when we had to move. Since we had no other form of contacting you, we couldn’t give you our new phone numbers nor address! We were worried you’d never reach out to us again.”

“Don’t blame yourselves!” Jason averted his eyes. “A lot of things were happening back in Gotham. If anyone was to blame, it was me for abruptly cutting off any type of communication.” Even if it wasn’t in my control Jason wanted to add, but chose not to.

“Well, that doesn’t matter now, does it?” Jason looked up to see Tom and Sabine smiling at him. “You’re here now and that’s all we can ask for.” 

Oh how badly Jason wanted to cry. Guess Marinette noticed because she quickly proposed to have him join for lunch, her parents agreeing. 

The family invited him past the counter and into their apartment, closing the bakery for the day. 

Before he entered the apartment, he took one look at the family rushing around to prepare lunch, Marinette flashing a smile before her mother reminding her to take the bread out. 

Jason placed a hand over his heart, the other quickly wiping away a stray tear. 

He had done it. 

He came back to her, to Mari, to Marinette. 

He was finally home. 

------

Perma-tag: @theatreandcomicfreak

[lalahbug]

Anything for You - Victor x Reader

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice Word Count: 997

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: general None

Author’s Note: So eons ago, okay fine, being less dramatic, years ago. I held a contest for 500 watchers on DeviantArt, but life hit me and I stopped writing completely. It’s been years and I’m trying to uphold my word for the winners. So far, the only one who wants her prize is my dear sweet Venus. She’s been through everything with me, my thick and thin, my only true friend, my best friend. I’m so happy to do something for her for once, I hope you like this little fic you’ve earned it and so much more. I can’t wait until you’re out a school and being the amazing teacher I know you’ll be. You’ll be done with the woes and drama of idiotic professors soon, and upgrade to idiotic coworkers, but you’ll be where you want to~! I love you twinie and I thank I have you to always be there for me. I hope now that I’m more present in life, I can be there for you too.

For my twinie: @venulus​

___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person

Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting. 

Story under cut

          Victor sighed in relief the moment he closed his door, to be home, off of business, ready to find his lover. He usually had contact with her at least twice a day while he was gone on business trips. But she didn’t answer any of his calls for the past week. Relieved to be home and to get an answer out his wife about her absence.

          He looked everywhere for her but to his dismay, she wasn’t home. A small fear built in his mind and he checked her closet. Clothes were there, but there was a small suitcase missing. As his thoughts raced at possibilities, he heard the front door and click of heels.

          Victor walked calmly as his heart pounded to the rhythm he wanted to walk to. He was a bit thrown off to see his love, clad in black, and solemnly sitting on the living room couch.

          Hesitantly he sat down next to her, she automatically leaned into him.

          “I missed you. How was your trip?” Her voice was weak, weary, defeated. Yet the care and love was there. Victor put aside his anger at her ignoring him, forgetting it even.

          “It would have been better if I had been able to talk to you those last few days.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder lovingly.

          “I’ll make it up to you,” her tone a bit playful, but the weakness was there.

          “What happened?”

          “My uncle passed away, the one I told you about. The one who watched us while my parents worked.”

          “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone to the funeral with you.”

          “I know you would have. But it was a very small gathering, only people listed in his will were allowed. You were already gone, I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

          “Dummy,” he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her securely. “You know better than that.”

          She sniffed a bit before leaning into him more, allowing the peace he always washed over her, to drown her.

          A few weeks had passed, Victor was swamped with work again, having to bring it home even. He didn’t mind normally, but ___ had been a bit distant with the family death weighing on her. Victor was getting ready to go home when he had a small glimmer of an idea. Taking out his phone he called Mr. Mills, asking him to do some shopping and to come in tomorrow evening.

          “Victor?” ___ called out as she entered Souvenir. But she was greeted by the loving smile of Mr. Mills.

  “Hello Mrs. Li, he would like your help in the kitchen if you don’t mind.” Mr. Mills offered to take her jacket as she came inside more.

          “Thank you Mr. Mills, do you need any help out here?”

          “That’s so kind of you, but no. Please just assist Mr. Li.” ___ gave him a small smile before going into the kitchen. Victor was already in the middle of his cooking. She put on her apron and tied up her hair before washing her hands and coming over to him.

          “What are we cooking tonight?” She smiled at him, a small light in her eyes, she loved to help him cook.

          “I need you to cut these potatoes, thinly preferably. The mandolin would be more consistent but you can cut them by hand if you want.”

          “You’re letting me choose?” Her eyes sparkled a bit, he smiled at her gently before nodding at her. She took out the chef’s knife and started immediately.

          Once she was done, she was rinsing the potato slices with cold water. She then cleaned the knife and cutting board. Next she laid out the potatoes in even layers to blot them with paper towels to get excess water.

          “What next?”

          “Nothing, the rest is a surprise.”

          “But-” Victor cut off her words by picking her up and setting her on the countertop.

          “You stay right there. I don’t need any more help. I’m almost done.”

          “Okay. Don’t take this the wrong way. But don’t you have work to do?”

          “Do you not want the food?”

          “No, no! I do!”

          “Then sit there like a good girl.”

          “I think prefer when you’re my good boy,” she winked at him and his cheeks flushed. He was hovering over her in a blink. ___ gripped the front of his shirt and kissed him deeply. Victor sighed softly lacing his fingers into her silky hair. Tilting her head back to deepen their kiss before pulling away slowly.

          “Behave.” He sighed heavily before stepping back. “Stay here. Keep your remarks to yourself for now. Let me finish then we can eat together.”

          She huffed softly. “Fine.”

          Victor had made a hearty dinner with au gratin potatoes with cream, roasted vegetables, and filet mignon. After he was done plating their dishes he took them out. Once back in the kitchen, he took off both of their aprons and hung them up. He took down her hair gently before placing her back on the ground. He offered his hand, she gladly took it, entwining their fingers.

          ___ gasped at the sight of the restaurant, fairy lights were stringed up everywhere. Flower petals scattered and a bouquet of freesia as a beautiful centerpiece.  The restaurant was dimly lit, a classical piece was being played over speakers at a low volume. Victor guided her to her seat and pushed her chair in for her.

          When Victor looked at her again, after seating himself, her eyes were closed. The happiest smile plastered across her face while enjoying the ambiance. “Thank you for this.” She finally said opening her eyes, to show the water that had been gathered behind closed lids.

          Victor reached across the table to squeeze her hand gently. Smiling unintentionally from her contagious visage. “Anything for you.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Now, let’s eat. Before it gets cold.”

          Her eyes crinkled as her smile widened. “My good boy.” 

          Victor coughed lightly before mumbling, “behave.”