#the intimacy of your power flowing across the skin of one you love

[countrynerddancer]

Ame and Suvi casting Warding Bond and Mage Armor on each other and describing the sensations caused by the spells is lesbian sex to me.

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Inertia

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: "Hello, I just finished reading your most recent Az work & it was so wonderful ❤️ & I was wondering if you are still taking requests? If so, I was thinking maybe one where reader is helping Az into his leathers and like tying all his armor into place and stuff before he goes off to the war (or just a dangerous mission) and then after he comes back reader also helps him take it all off & just go to bed🥺❤️ If you have time or feel inspired to write this, I would appreciate it."

Warnings: blood, descriptions of gore, knives, cuts, vivid descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of scars, nudity, nightmares, bruises, kissing, very much off canon, pretty much just hurt comfort.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Thank you very much to the person who requested this to me. I am so sorry I cannot find your username anymore, but I hope I have done justice to your idea. And of course thank you to my readers for all the love on my recent fics :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

SJM Masterlist

(pic credit to pinterest)

The Spymaster of the Night Court liked to think he was split in half. Two persons in one body.

The first, the Shadowsinger. Carynthian. One of the most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist. Member of the most powerful High Lord's inner circle. Servant of his shadows and infamous throughout all of Prythian.

The second, completely, utterly, entirely owned by the female in his arms.

Your breaths spanned across his chest like waves on sand, spreading across his skin like water, leaving trails of chills in their wake. Your nude body was warm, silky, and serene, rested completely on top of him as if you were holding him down against his will.

In reality, Azriel prayed he died like this. Fully encapsulated by you and only you.

Your body rose as he inhaled and lowered as he exhaled. Your tiny squeaks of breath were a rush of blood to his head. He continually ran his scarred hands across your back and down your spine as you slept, soaking in the feeling of your skin and the storm within his chest at bay. He knew it wouldn't be for long.

He seemed to always be running out of time.

As the minutes ticked on, made apparent by the wooden clock next to his bed, he could feel the first half of his self slowly taking over the second. He could feel the blood lust, the cool rage, the hardening of his heart already beginning to take place. With his mate in his arms, it felt wrong, like he was holding glass his body was itching to drop.

Because of this, he kissed you.

"Y/N," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. "Y/N."

He was met with a lucid groan deep within your throat, and he kissed you again.

"I have to go."

With those words your eyes opened, and Az was blinded by their radiance, as he is every day. The area around your eyes was slightly puffed from sleep, adding to the intimacy and mundanity of simply waking up together. Azriel wished he could drink it. Pour it into a glass to perhaps sip on later, when the half of himself he was becoming less and less proud of as the years went on became too much.

You rubbed at said eyes, your body heat against his warming at your increasing blood flow. You leaned forward, propping yourself up and away from him. He sat up with you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

He was desolate without your touch, desperate for as much of it as he could have before having to leave it.

"I'm up," you whispered, yawning. "I'm up."

He chuckled and tucked his mouth against your neck, kissing just underneath your jaw. The softest, most favorite area of his to kiss on you. Your pulse thumping against his lips. Your very life against his mouth.

He was going to fucking miss you.

You pulled him away from you to give his lips a peck before scooting down to the edge of the bed, standing completely up, and stretching your spine and shoulders. Rolling them backwards and forwards, side to side. The line down your back was accentuated as you did this, as well as the shade of your skin in the rising sun.

If Azriel had the choice, he would have kept you in that bedroom all day, and all night, and for all of eternity.

You then made your way across the room to a cushioned chair, draped with every piece of his leathers laid out and ready. He hated the look of it - these agents of carnage on such delicate fabric. It felt absurd, almost sinister.

What was worse was the image of you walking towards them and lifting his tunic into your arms. You faced him, holding it at the ready, and he got up from bed with a sigh. It was deep, bottomless.

He stayed standing anyway.

He walked to you, also nude, and held eye-contact as he did. Your eyes were sunken and sad, but in a way that was not vibrant or pungent. It was in a way that showed you were used to this sadness and fear, that you and your body knew how to handle it.

Always running out of time.

He held up his arms and you slid the tunic over his head. You then turned back around and retrieved his pants, allowing him to step into them. As you buttoned them securely, making sure they were tight enough for his comfort, you began to speak.

"Where to today?" you asked, and despite the dread growing in his stomach, he smiled.

You always asked him for details of his missions before he left for them, desperate for any and every characteristic of them. He always wondered why you did this. He didn't know if you wanted an image of everything that could go wrong, everything that could go right, or even a bit of both.

Part of him wanted to know, but most of him did not.

"Rhys is worried," Azriel replied. "Beron is getting worse, according to Eris anyway, and plans on meeting with the mortal queens in the Autumn Court tonight at dusk. Eris is meant to sneak me in so I can get a read on what they're planning."

You hummed, finishing off his pants and reaching behind you to add his vest. You then began adding his padding, and your eyes remained focused on his body.

"You don't like that?"

You shrugged. "I don't trust Eris."

He nodded, helping you smooth the vest down comfortably to his body. "I wish I could disagree with you."

You looked up at him then, leaving your hands on his pecks. "You shouldn't be going alone."

"I have to," he replied. "Cassian can't be incognito for shit."

You smiled faintly, but the dull fear remained.

"Besides, I'm never alone," he said, gesturing behind him. "My shadows will keep me safe, alert me if something is going wrong, and protect me."

Your breath was warm against his face as you said, "And you will get out of there if they tell you to, if your gut is telling you to."

He held your face in his hands. "I will get out of there, and I will come back home."

You nodded, still unconvinced, but kissed him anyway.

You then added his pauldrons to his legs and thighs, smoothing them against his pants and assisting him with his boots, before finally latching on his shoulder and stomach spaulder. He could feel some tension relieve on your shoulders as you did this, allowing the knowledge that despite entering enemy territory, he was still protected. His heart and vital organs were protected by the best Rhysand could get.

He could see a little bit of his mate come back into herself as you processed that knowledge. It wasn't enough, he knew that, but it helped you, and that was more than enough for him.

You gave the covering a quick jab, both to test the strength and cut the tension, sending Az staggering back a few steps. You both smiled at each other as he found his footing.

"How does a warning sound for next time?" he chuckled.

"Tell that to your fancy shadows," you countered, and he shook his head, his eyes a glowing gold.

Never enough time.

You then picked up his gloves from the cushioned chair, and held the pair of them in one hand while taking his left hand in the other. You rubbed a thumb down his scars, tracing each divot and crease, before pressing a swift kiss to his palm. You then pulled the matching glove on over the skin, and repeated the process with his right hand.

That act, that simple kiss and touch, was more intimate and profound than any act of sex the two of you had ever and would ever share to him. It showed him that you acknowledged it for what it was - painful, foreign, damaged - but also saw it for its beauty. Its symbolism of survival and strength. Its necessity for him to become the male he was today.

It's safe to say he cried like a true Illyrian baby when you kissed him like that the first time, and teared up every time after that.

After his gloves were on him comfortably, you put on the finishing touches of his leathers before taking a few steps back, you admiring him, and him admiring you. Him wrapped in wealth and power, shadow and danger, death and cool, icy focus on his objective. You, bare to him, soft, vulnerable, pure, stripped clean of anything and everything except for who you truly were.

On Azriel's dark days, he believed that in that moment, you both were who you truly were.

You looked him up and down, the playfulness and peace from a few moments before slowly dissipating from the air, and he pulled you back to him when he saw the fear enter your eyes again. The rough leather against your soft skin made him feel dirty, nauseous even at the thought of you getting anywhere close to the person he became when he wore them, but he pushed the feeling to the side as best as he could.

"I will come home," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "I will come home."

You nodded, eyes slowly lining with tears, and he elected to console you with touch. Bestowing kisses against your hairline, down your temples, across your cheeks, down your nose, and nearly against your lips.

Never to your lips. It was his silent promise that he would be back, and he would kiss you well.

He pressed one last kiss against your mouth before departing from the room, not looking back, the first half of his personhood taking control, and the cool focus of the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court overtook his being completely.

~*~

Azriel's wish came true. He could disagree with you about not trusting Eris, because he was the only reason Azriel got out of there undetected, unscathed, and uninjured.

Azriel did not, however, trust him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The entire way there and back, constantly vague, rogue comments about Mor never telling anyone the full story of what happened between her and him, how Rhys was too much unchecked power, and how Nesta would be much happier elsewhere.

Azriel's heart went out to the male, knowing how he was treated at home and the abuse he had endured from his father, but that didn't mean he never wanted to clock his teeth in.

Despite the fact that Azriel was coated in sweat and mud, exhausted beyond belief, his inertia that was fueled by adrenaline was slowly fading, and that he desperate to be horizontal, when Eris suggested stopping at an Inn until morning, Azriel would not budge.

"I'm going home," he responded, "with or without you, I'm going home."

Eris was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the journey.

After days that felt like weeks, Azriel was at your doorstep - sore, tired, but so fucking happy he could barely contain himself. He knocked, a pattern of one-two-one, but the door nearly flew off its hinges before his second beat. He was met with only a flash of your face through his hazed, swollen eyes, before you wrapped yourself around him, colliding with him in an embrace unique to lovers. One of complete surrender and relief, and he met you head on, holding you so tight to him he raised you off the ground and could feel your ribs squeezing against him so harshly it was painful for the both of you.

Neither of you felt any pain, only relief, and true completeness.

He tucked his head in your neck, listening to your pulse and kissing that spot he loved so much, as you ran your hands through his hair.

"Azriel," you whispered against him, "Azriel."

He put you down and looked into your eyes. "What?"

You smiled, only mischief, play, and knowing written on your face. A look that said, "pay up."

He gladly obliged.

He didn't kiss you softly, or slowly, or reverently. He kissed you like he had been wanting to for days - hungrily. He was starving, aching for you in a way that he was unable to describe. It was down to his bones, the tether in his chest clamoring to connect with its other half.

He felt whole again, and he wanted the feeling forever.

His kisses slowed down as he pushed you into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him without leaving your lips. The two of you could not stop fucking smiling as you moved into the bedroom, and he sat himself down on the cushioned chair. You climbed onto his lap, kissing him with only love, only passion.

You slowly pulled away after a few more short kisses to frame his face with your hands, caressing his skin, looking into his eyes, reaffirming what you already knew.

The most beautiful male you had ever known was completely, utterly, entirely yours.

You could not deny, however, that his under-eyes were a dark shade of violet, as well as the area around them puffy and red.

He was tired.

"Come on," you whispered, climbing off of him. "Stand up."

You pulled him to his feet, his stance unsteady and weak, and began to pull his leathers off, piece by piece. You set them back onto the chair behind you delicately, but quickly, as the male standing before was practically sleeping standing up.

He couldn't help it. His chest was warm. His heart was full. His love was back in his arms.

After removing every inch down to his tunic and boots, he pulled you back up to his mouth, and you kissed him softly. Your fingertips lined his jaw while his gripped your waist.

You kissed him once, twice, three times before pulling away. "You need to sleep."

He blinked, then blinked again. Like he was trying to wake up from a dream. "You're right."

You chuckled and led him to bed, helping him to lay down. You then stripped yourself of all your clothing and tucked yourself in beside him. His eyes were already closed, his breaths were already evening, but with one last burst of energy, he pulled you into his chest, laying you on top of him the same way he did on your final morning together. He kissed you one last time, and you could have sworn he was asleep already when he mumbled against your mouth.

"Told you I'd come home."

You smiled against his neck, listening to the sounds of him in sleep and whispered, "I missed you."

For once, the two of you had all the time in the world.

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopiapia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @azsazz

[ohmynabiii]

🦋 𝐨𝐡𝐦𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐢𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🦋

𝐜𝐰 / 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 :

I plan to write some short fics with 18+ themes, but not all of my work will be for mature audiences!! if you're a minor, please be cautious about what you engage with. I will monitor ages on mature posts, and if a blog that interacts is underage or ageless, they will be blocked.

🔥 = smut. 🦋 = fluff. 💙 = angst. 📱 = social media AU.

────୨ৎ────

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 :

birthday girl ; lee know x f!reader

────୨ৎ────

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Your Eyes ; one shot, smut, 5.3k words 🔥

"You know you shouldn’t. It’s reckless, wrong even. But when Minho's gaze catches yours, his eyes smoldering with that wicked promise—God, those eyes—you’re already lost, too far gone to stop."

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

Bang Chan As a Father of Two ; imagines, 1k words 🦋

romance, fluff, chan as a father of two imagines

────୨ৎ────

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Birthday Girl ; angsty fluffy stuff, ...k words 🦋🔥

He leans in, impossibly closer, the sudden traces of what had to be his cologne; smoke, musk, sandalwood overtaking your senses. “Ever been to a live show?"

“Does watching my friends drunkenly butcher ‘Bikini Kill’ in karaoke count?” you tease, sucking in your bottom lip for a second. Minho's eyes briefly flick down to catch the movement, his smirk deepening.

“I was thinking something a bit... louder.”

romance, tension, rock/band au, aespa cameo, tatted and rockstar minho

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Caught Red-Handed ; smut oneshot, 1.2k words 🔥

“You could feel it in the way his breath hitched every time your lips brushed against his skin, the shiver that ran through him when your fingers teased the soft hair at the nape of his neck.”

hot couch make out sesh, dry humping, love bites/hickies, subby minho

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Muse ; multiple part series, fluff, artist/student au, 10k+ words 🦋

In the quiet intimacy of a shared art studio, two artists navigate the delicate balance between creative passion and unspoken desire, their bond deepening in the shadows of late-night work sessions. When the lights flicker off one evening, the darkness reveals feelings that neither can easily ignore, leaving them both wondering what will come to light when the power returns.

slow-burn, artist au, student au, fluff, romance.

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Taste ; smut oneshot, 4.2k words 🔥

"The room thrummed with the sounds of the after-party, but none of it reached you or Hyunjin. Ever since you arrived at the premiere’s after-party, something electric had crackled between you, something raw and hungry. He stood across the room, mingling with the others, his features perfect under the dim, atmospheric lighting. The black tailored suit hugged his body just right, the slim cut highlighting his lean figure, while his hair framed his face with just the right amount of effortlessness. From the moment you entered the room, your golden dress flowing behind you, his eyes hadn’t left you."

slow-burn, teasing, cunnilingus/female oral sex, love bites, hickies.

Juice ; smut oneshot, 1.8k words 🔥

"Hyunjin’s fingers are stained with the fruit’s nectar, slick and glistening as he reaches into the pomegranate once more, breaking apart the seeds with a sensual precision. Each movement is a slow, deliberate seduction, his eyes never wavering from yours, their heat burning through the space between you. His body gleams under the faint light, every ripple of muscle accentuated by the juice now dripping from his lips and down his chest, tracing the sculpted lines of his collarbone, pooling in the hollow of his navel before falling lower still."

sexual undertones, nudity (pretty much), love bites, kissing, teasing, sitoph1lia

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Flashes Of You ; one-shot, fluff, 1.6k words 🦋

“It’s always in these quiet moments, just after sunset, when the world is painted in soft twilight, that you feel most at ease beside Kim Seungmin."

romance, sweet fluff, first kiss, inexperienced

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

────୨ৎ────

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜

skz as poetic/romantic quotes ; hyung line 🦋

collection of channie hugs

channie rant ; workaholic/perfectionist talk

🦋

[b33viemm]

wrote a silly thing, its also on ao3. yes, i made it about tma. it can also be read w/o knowledge of tma

---

The eye that cannot see and the eye that cannot be seen

in a house in the woods in the hills somewhere else

where the fog curls through the trees that stretch up toward the sky

but never breaches the front door

.

The eye that cannot see and the eye that cannot be seen

in a house in the woods in the hills somewhere else

where the silent woods are never silent

as the birds sing about all the places they've been

and the grass whispers about the feet that pass through it

and the creek babbles about nothing and everything

and the river rocks lay there, silently sharing stories about ancient times before they were worn smooth, stories of life and death and beauty and destruction and despair and rebirth

.

The eye that cannot see and the eye that cannot be seen

have been this way for quite some time

and have been in this place for quite some time

and have held each other for infinitely longer

.

One day

the eye that cannot see

says he would rather like to see again someday

he whispers it like a faraway dream, like the sun on the horizon, laughs it off because he knows it is not needed to know him

the eye that cannot be seen would like to take the sun into his hands and place it at his feet, light up the world just for him

anything for him

.

The eye that cannot see

smiles at the idea

when he was once afraid of, then tired of, now content with his sight-less world

now he thinks of seeing him again

.

The eye that cannot be seen

knows there is nothing for him to see

but he continues

because surely he would love to see the singing birds and the whispering grasses and the babbling creeks and the silent rocks

that will be enough

.

The nearest hospital is a long ways away from their home

but the eye that cannot see and the eye that cannot be seen

make the trek

away from the birds and grasses and creeks and rocks

in hopes that soon he will come back to them with his eyes wide open

because somewhere else

it is possible

---

The one who can see and the one who cannot be seen

go back to their house in the woods in the hills somewhere else

the one who can see cannot see through the fabric tied around his head

because the sight of him felt like an intimacy that should be shared alone

.

They kneel in their room in the house in the woods in the hills somewhere else

it is quiet, like the forest is holding its breath

when the one who can see lifts his blindfold over his head, it is dark, the curtains drawn closed, only letting in peeks of light, because the dark feels safer

when the one who can see gazes up at him, he sees tears falling from his cheeks

and the one who cannot be seen speaks, voice shaking when he whispers

i know you cannot see me

for all that you can look upon now, i am not on that side of the fence

he tries to laugh

but i hear the birds and the grasses and the creeks and the rocks are beautiful

and the one who can see wipes his tears away and says

i can see them all right now

now that i can see,

i study the stars in your eyes

the clouds dancing across your skin

the rain flowing through your hair

the sunlight in the cracks between your bitten fingernails

is so bright, so blinding, that I never want

to look away

but i also see

the soft fat, rolling hills

mountains and valleys that can be traversed

following the paths of stretchmarks

hairs and spots and scrapes and scars

like a beautiful piece of art filled with color and texture

and intrigue and love

like sweet dirt beneath fingertips

sprouting with life, holding it, creating it, spreading it

like you

when you smile

when you run

when you laugh

you kick up dirt and water and gold like a galloping horse

beautiful and powerful and gentle and soft

and captivating

you are mischievous like a snickering fox

you are tender like a deer to her fawn

you are strong like a shaggy bear

you are the singing birds and the whispering grasses and the babbling creeks and the silent rocks

and all of this i knew

have always known because

i could hear the twinkling stars in your eyes

i could feel the cool clouds on your skin

i could smell the drumming rain in your hair

i could taste the sweet sunlight you create from within

you had already gifted the brightest sun in the universe to me at my feet when you said you loved me

i explored its hills and valleys, walked its paths, traced its hairs and spots and scrapes and scars, memorized them

i touched the canvas, touched and mapped its painting, i felt the wet dirt filled with potential, humming with life and creation

i heard you smile and run and laugh

i spoke with you, learned your beauty and power and gentleness and softness

i was always captivated by you

i knew your mischief and tenderness and strength

i always saw you, and i hope now you can see yourself the way i always have

and the forest is loud and alive, and they are loud and alive

.

The eye who can see and the eye who can be seen

in a house in the woods in the hills somewhere else

where the rain reaches down from above, soaking the resilient earth

and the air is filled with the smell of petrichor and the singing of birds and the whispering of grass and the babbling of creeks and the quiet patience of rocks and the crying and the laughing of those who are understood

Due to a curse placed upon your bloodline, you’re invisible. You’ve been married to your blind wife for 25 years and she’s just gotten surgery to recover her vision

[whispersofmercury]

🕷🌑Pluto - Ascendant Aspects 🕯

🕷Very private people

🕯Approach the world being concerned with survival (like Saturn rising people)

🕷Those with the conjunction don’t always view the world as a safe place

🕯Intensely self aware

🕷Understands the ugly side of human nature

🕯Seem to go out into the world wanting to hide (especially if the ascendant is in Leo!)

🕷Can feel like everyone’s eyes are always on them

🕯Early in life they may have had a lot of attention but found that level of being ‘watched’ crippling to their personal identity

🕷Might be involved in a family secret (or have a troubled history of secrets. People might share things with them very easily)

🕯Even if they don’t have a secret them come across as if they do

🕷Concleaing persona

🕯Their face gives little away and they often tightly control each and every situation so that others do not reveal anything either

🕷With the harder aspects some part of the birth itself might have involved trauma (definitely not always the case though!)

🕯Other times they often brush with death in their childhood (a lot of them have almost died a lot)

🕷Those with the hard aspects may find it hard to let others in, or have intimacy (this effect is amplified if Saturn is also involved)

🕯Approach to the world is to control it and manipulate it, to bend others to their hidden but but iron will (especially if the rising sign is fixed!)

🕷Often live out some sort of taboo in their lives

🕯Those with the opposition tend to give their power away, and see others as powerful, controlling, or manipulative (same themes as Venus-Pluto aspects)

🕷People tend to hate or love them

🕯Their gaze is so intense, it reaches into your soul

🕷Love getting under people’s skin

🕯REALLY good reading and gauging others reactions

🕷Amazing death glares

🕯Can make others uncomfortable, or unsettled (a lot of them like this feeling of power)

🕷Might be obsessed with their appearance

🕯Often seen as leaders

🕷Trines and sextiles especially are great at reading others

🕯Doesn’t like small talk

🕷Usually loners

🕯Wants to control how others see them

🕷Their appearance might change drastically from time to time

🕯Has a strong sense of will and identity

🕷Startles people by going against the flow and becoming someone unrecognizable

🕯Very authentic usually, they stay true to themselves

🕷Those with ascendant-Pluto aspects are dark. They jump into taboo, secrets, mysteries and might be controlling and manipulative, but if you want someone who can really see the world and tell you how it is at its deepest and darkest core, they’re the ones to go to. While it might be hard to get them to open up you’ll never be the same after they do 🕯

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I can’t believe we’re going to get little mentions of soft, established Nessian in future books... like???? Imagine!!

“Azriel sighed as he entered the office, not because of the news he had to deliver from his latest mission, but because of the sight that greeted him. The sight that always seemed to greet him lately. Feyre and Rhysand were bad enough, but Nesta and Cassian were worse. Because they thought they were being subtle. They thought no one could see Cassian’s thumb just under the back of Nesta’s top, stroking up and down the divet of her spine. They thought that no one marked the way Nesta’s face and posture tightened every time someone mentioned Cassian going on a mission- which was his gods damned job. But she never said anything. Never said no or told him it was too dangerous. Just stiffened in worry. And that quiet intimacy, the silent worry... that was so much worse than overt affection. Because it was something Az could find himself craving, could feel his heart aching for, and that was almost unbearable.”

OR

“We can’t hold Elain back, Nesta.” Feyre sighed “if she wants to do this then...” she trailed off and Nesta clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth almost broke inside of her skull. Rhys cast an eye toward Cassian, but he was already moving toward his mate, one hand outstretched. It had been over a year, but the High Lord’s eyes still nearly popped out of his head every time Nesta relaxed and let Cassian pull her to his side like a sleeping tiger cub. Claws retracted, but never fully out of sight. Cass whispered something low and gruff in her ear and Nesta glared at her mate.

“I hate you”

“You hate me because I’m right.”

“It just happens so rarely that I’m never sure how to react.” Cassian barked a laugh in the same moment Rhys and Feyre did. “That wasn’t a joke” Nesta shrugged.

OR

mor would probably never be friends with Nesta the way that she was with Feyre. They just weren’t... compatible. But even she had to admit that she’d been wrong about her and Cassian. And Mor never admitted to being wrong. But every now and then she’d stumble across them when no one else was around, like right now. Dawn loomed over the river palace and everyone else had long gone to sleep, which meant that Mor was in search of wine. What she found instead was Cassian sitting in front of the fire in an overstuffed armchair, Nesta perched across his thighs with her legs draped over the arm of the chair. One of Cassian’s hands was on her hip, the other holding a mug of tea that Mor knew was Nesta’s. Because Nesta’s hands were busy, twisting themselves through the silken strands of Cassian’s hair, weaving them into tame braids that Mor would have bet money would be impossible to coax those unruly strands into. And Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed, General Commander of Night, the most powerful Illyrian warrior in centuries, was leaning into her touch, eyes closed in perfect contentment, moving only to press a kiss to Nesta’s wrist every time it came close enough. Yes, Mor thought, she’d never been so spectacularly wrong in her very long life.

AND FINALLY:

Gwyn was busy doing everything she could to staunch the flow of blood from Azriel’s side. If it was a normal blade it would never have been a fatal wound, but with ash wood... who knew. She was so focused on her task that she almost didn’t notice Koschei advancing towards them again. Not until Ataraxia’s massive weight gleamed silver in front of her.

“Take one more step towards my brother and sister, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” She growled.

Koschei stilled, a smirk playing on his lips “you do not frighten me, Nesta Archeron. Once, perhaps, but love made you weak as it has so many others.”

Nesta took a step forward, and for all of his grand words, Koschei took one back. “You will not be the first deathless creature to underestimate me and meet their end by this blade.”

Koschei laughed, shadows pulsing in time with Azriel’s own, even as they were fading. They didn’t have much time. He needed a healer, a real healer. Gwyn pressed her hands harder into Az’s side, thinking that she would rip the skin from her wrist if she could patch it over his own.

Then she saw Nesta smile, felt a change in the wind, and breathed a sigh of relief as Koschei faltered. As the entire grassy expanse beside the lake was flooded with red the colour of watery blood.

Cassian.

No one knew they were here. No one knew about Az’s crazy spying against Rhys’ orders or that Gwyn insisted on following him and Nesta insisted on following her. No one knew, but of course Cassian did. Of course the mating bond must have been screaming at him that the other half of his heart was in danger. The shock and the blast of power was enough to knock Koschei down, enough to distract him.

Lady Death positively beamed in deranged delight at the arrival of her true sword, her mate, her love. “What was that about love being a weakness?”

Those were the last words Koachei the deathless heard before a once mortal girl separated his head from his shoulders with a single swing of her Made sword.

In the end, he put up less resistance than the ribbon.

“I would murder you all for this insane plan if I hadn’t just flown 4 hours to save your sorry asses” Cassian growled.

Nesta only rose on her toes to kiss him, black blood smearing both of their lips. And because Gwyn knew that Cassian’s ability to stay mad at Nesta was nonexistent she felt no qualms interrupting the moment.

“You haven’t saved us all yet.”

Cassian’s face turned grave as they all sunk to their knees before the shadowsinger. He ripped into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and produced a vial that he poured down Azriel’s throat. “From Thesan” he said “it’ll counteract the Ashwood, but he still needs a healer for the wounds.” Cassian cast an eye upward “Day is closer than Night. I’ll take him there and be back in a couple hours.” He lifted his brother easily, throwing up a shield to protect him from the wind “try not to get into a fight with any other true immortals while I’m gone.”

“No promises” Gwyn and Nesta responded in unison.

[blue-bird-kny]

This took way to many days to write for absolutely no reason, but I liked it in the end so please, enjoy~Amanda

Warnings: N/a

Words: 2.4k+

↳{Fluffy first baths together are nothing short of what you’d expect with Inosuke}

The gentle pitter-patter of water droplets drizzling down bamboo shoots and swaying green leaves filled the otherwise quiet space. The welcoming scent of dew and greenery danced through the night air as you overlooked the outdoor bathing area, “absolutely perfect” you thought as your muscles cried in despair. You, along with your team of idiots and sweet Nezuko, had walked miles in search of a home bearing the Wisteria crest, everyone in desperate need of some rest, repair, and (hopefully) lots of delicious food. “Come in, young child, as weary as you may be, your body needs food to begin the healing process” a grainy voice beckoned. An elderly woman, just barely 5 feet wrapped in purple with shimmering silver hair, waited patiently beside the open door, “I think my husband was too excited to greet you all because he got carried away and made far too much food” she continued. “Oh don’t worry, my boys are very capable of eating you out of house and home, especially my boyfriend” you giggled while climbing the wooden steps to meet her.

You walked side by side to the dining room, the smell of beef stew and rice already reaching you, “Thanks again, to you and your husband, we’ve spent weeks running around and I know we desperately needed the break” she chuckled, “No need child, my husband misses the thrill of battle even in his old age, so we are thrilled to have you.” your eyes widened slightly but before you could ask the shorter woman of her husband's past, a loud crash could be heard behind the thin sliding door. Behind its papery protection was a scene that couldn’t be anymore hilarious; wrestling on the floor was an older man, thick and burley with round rims sliding down the bump of his nose, hovering over a wailing Zenitsu whose body was being forced into a backbend with his head held tightly in a choke-hold by the man’s hairy arms. Tanjiro stood beside the duo desperately trying to pull his friend out from under the other, trying to talk over the hefty laughter and screaming, while Inosuke stood cheering the man on as if this were some sort of cage fight.

You could feel the twitch in your eye act up, ready to pull them apart but before you could open your mouth the elderly woman cleared her throat, causing the wild bunch to freeze. Her husband's eyes slowly fell on hers as fear overcame them and as for the other three, they couldn’t help but shiver at the dead set look on yours. “What’s going on here?” the women commanded, her steel set tone sending the group scrambling into seated positions as she prowled into the room- you followed slowly behind her. Tanjiro croaked first, “W-well Mr.Shimura was telling us about his days in the force and he just wanted to show us some of his, uh, moves'' Tanjiro's voice wavered a bit at the end, not sure if ‘moves’ was the right way to describe assault. “Y/n! Please don’t let this man torture me anymore, he’s crazy!” the blonde rushed to your side with teary eyes and a tight grip on your arm. The women pulled her large husband up by his ear, “Don’t worry, you children enjoy your food, my husband,” she tugged on the lobe for emphasis, “and I will be off to bed” she turned to you, “I assume you’ll be able to find the bathing area and your room?” “Of course” you assured. The moment the couple became shadows behind the door, you could hear the wife’s grumbling- you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Unsettled by the silence, you turned to find all eyes on you, waiting for a reprimand you had no intention of delivering, “Oh ease up, eat before the food gets cold'' a collective sigh could be heard around the table, your hand gentle releasing the part of Zenitsu that was still clinging your clothes. The spot open next to Inosuke was as inviting as the mouth-watering scent of a hot meal that had been calling your name since further down the hallways. Your fingers faintly fell on the tuft of your boyfriend's hair, ruffling them a bit, before diving into your own bowl of rice and soup. While Inosuke felt your small act of affection and craved it a bit more, he only offered a messy smile as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. 

Ceramic dishes once filled with hand-cooked deliciousness were now cleaned empty, stacked into small towers all across the wooden table in some sort of toppling city. The room was almost empty too, Zenitsu and Tanjiro both eager to wash the wear away and to finally allow themselves to be consumed by uninterrupted dreams, had already taken off for the night. “I’m going to die,” the bloated heap on the floor cried, his duo-toned hair sprawled out around him and his robe strewn on the ground. You laughed, “No, Inosuke, you aren’t going to die” you laid on the carpet beside him, propped up by one elbow. As the man heaved and sighed as if he were going into labor, your nose caught a whiff of something salty and musty and earthy and gross, “I swear if you don’t go shower right now, my eyes are going to melt from my skull” you complained nasally as you pinched your nostrils shut; You were met with only louder moaning and heaving. “C’mon everyone else already-” you stopped yourself short, an idea too good to pass up crossing your mind. “Since everyone else is already tucked away, why don’t we bath together?” before you could even finish the question, Inosuke sat up faster than light, his eyes challenging yours as if saying “Are you playing me?”. “We never get to do anything just us so if you're up for it, I’m down” you concluded slightly smug as he clung to each word you uttered like a puppy waiting for a treat. You stood to leave, crouching down once more to balance your fingers below his chin, forcing him to face you, “But, no funny business”. 

You didn’t even have to look to see Inosuke was following, his second set of steps echoing yours as if they were the thunder that follows lighting; two things equally as powerful, yet relied on the other for strength. Again, you were greeted by the soft flow of water streaming into the natural spring, the brilliant moonlight above lighting the large basin carved from polished rock that sat in the middle of the space. “Turn around” you asked, to which Inosuke surprisingly compiled too with only a tiny grumble. You slid your filthy clothes off layer by layer, the black garments piled together as you tip-toed into the warm water, the steam instantly feeling irresistible on your skin. “I-I’ll close my eyes so you can get in, too” you stuttered, the heavy realization of the intimacy that was to come next, an intimacy that had never been shared before. “Whatever you want, we’ll be naked anyways in the water” Insouke pointed out as he too discarded his smaller pile onto yours, however, you didn’t dare peek before you heard the breaking of water as he climbed in, didn’t dare breathe as he groaned in relief. Slowly, you uncovered your eyes, trained steadily past the demon slayer's face; awkwardly and in unusual silence, you two sat five feet apart, waiting to see who dared to move first.

Well of course it was Inosuke who shuffled through the water first towards you, “You can look at me, ya know” he said with a sort of want in his voice, as if your gaze offered an approval he sought from only you. Whether the pink that painted his skin was from the temperature or the heat of the moment, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t dwell on it for long because other things piqued your interest. While the number of times you’ve seen Inosuke wear a shirt was almost non-existent, the steam rising from the water altered his scarred chest into something else; it was more chiseled, more tanned, each dip and mark was more perfect, the reflection below somehow glowed in a way that was more than you had every painted Inosuke to be and it took your breath away. “What are ya looking at?” he asked defensively, fidgeting in an almost timid way; it reminded you that you shouldn’t be nervous around him, “You, ya dummy”. He scoffed at your bluntness, grateful to hear the normal bite in your tongue instead of the disgust he feared you’d feel towards him. His stunning pair of green orbs watched as you leaned closer to him, arms stretched as you grew even closer, “What the hel-” he panicked slightly only to be fooled as you grabbed something that was behind him; two bottles waved in front of his face as you teased, “What? Afraid of some soap, piglet?”. He muttered a string of complaints, ‘tease’ and ‘mean’ being the only two you could work out.

You squeezed the white shampoo into your open palm, setting it down somewhere on the edge of the bath, “May I?” you asked, hovering your hands beside his head. He sucked on his teeth before mumbling a raspy “fine”, easing himself between your awaiting limbs. You worked the suds into his scalp, gently massaging his dark roots with the pads of your thumbs before working your way down to bunch his falling strands, lathering them in the floral-scented soap. As you worked to cover every last inch of his scalp in bubbles, Inosuke struggled to keep quiet; his half-lidded eyes fluttered with every circular rub, his mouth slightly agape as he relished in your touch and had to work at suppressing the purrs that threatened to escape his chest like a cat.

“Bend down a little, will ya” you pushed against his head till he was close enough to the water that when he tipped back, his long tresses would be covered. You rinsed his hair gently, taking your time to enjoy this rare chance  with your loved one (along with the funny faces you knew he was making). Inosuke wanted to say something, anything would do really, but he just couldn’t put syllables together as if with every trail your fingers followed, you sucked away his ability to think. You had already rid his scalp from the soap, however, you weren’t ready to let go just yet; you ushered him out of the water so you could use your nails to push the soaked strands back, twirling them into a loose bun at the back of his head. Inosuke was so close, he was sure he’d make it out of this without any weird noises but the subtle scratching against his skin was too much for any man. A low rumble emerged from his throat followed by a relieved sigh, “If I knew all it took to tame this wild boar was a few head scratches, I’d have started a long time ago” you giggled, sliding your palms down the length of his neck to rest on his shoulders, “all done”. His brows furrowed at the weight behind his head and the lack thereof on his back, “It’s a bun” you explained, “Yea, well I feel bald” “Don’t knock just yet, it helps keep your hair from your face when you’re fighting, plus I think you look hot with it” you tightened your hold on him for a second as a blush crept its way onto his skin.

“It's getting late, you can get out if you want, I’m going to wash up” you reached for the same bottle of shampoo, tipping it over to collect its contents, but before the suds could touch your skin, Inosuke’s grip caught your wrist. “I’ll do it” he stated firmly, “You don’t have to-” “I’ll do it” he repeated, already taking the bottle. A glop of shampoo slapped against his palm as he rushed to spread it between his two hands. You closed your eyes, ready to be serenaded by his sweet touch when you were quickly reminded of who you were dealing with here- the furthest thing from sweet. Water splashed haphazardly as Inosuke drilled into your skull, roughly kneading your scalp. “Ouch! Stop it! Is that what it felt like to you?! Any harder and I’ll be the bald one!” you yelled, moving away from his hands still hanging above the water. Inosuke shrunk a little, visibly upset as he looked to his right at nothing specific. Instantly regretting your reaction, you acted to fix the situation, “Here” you gently placed his thick fingers against your scalp once again this time placing yours above his, easing them into a gentle, rhythmic massage. “See,” you sighed, “not everything in life is a race.”

Inosuke looked at the way your face fell at the feel of his fingers gently working against you, he almost had to double-take to make sure it was his touch that was providing you so much pleasure- in fact, it sort of inflated his already bulging ego. Although he spent less time washing and rinsing your hair as you had hoped (you could have sat there for hours) the water was growing cooler and time was nipping at both your ankles, reminding you of the sleep you oh so needed. Washed and feeling refreshed, you reached for his shoulders, using them to glide through the water until your chest was pressed against his, becoming more familiar with the feel of his warmth against yours. Your arms dangled over his shoulders with your head buried in his neck, while his large palms found themselves holding your waist, “this was fun” you whispered into his skin. Inosuke grunted, exhaustion creeping up on him too. “Let go to bed” you yawned ready to detach yourself reluctantly from the strong man when you were suddenly carried above the water, exposed and shivering you wrapped your legs instinctively around him. “What are you doing?” you asked embarrassed and flushed red. A wide grin overtook his face as he held you tighter, “Figured you’d be too weak to walk after I almost put you to bed with my magical fingers” he replied as he trudged through the water and out the bath, two towels already waiting to dry your skin.

Later that night as you both lay covered in cotton robes and silk sheets surrounded by the gentle buzz of the others snoring around the room, together on one futon with eyelids as heavy as stones, something occurred to you. “Hey babe?” you whispered, getting a half grunt in response, “you never took that bun out, did you?” the arm that was holding you securely to his side flicked you gently, “hush women” he breathed. You chuckled low, snuggling closer into Inosuke's warmth, falling effortlessly into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you~

Masterlist

[gaycrackheadraccoon]

Do you? - Seychelles x Fem Reader

The two felt contempt within each other's arms as they lay sprawled out across the plush couch, a multitude of cozy blankets and pillows surrounding them. The aura of sweet bliss was present between them.

The soft static that emitted from the TV flooded the homely living room. Although the curtains remained outdrawn, darkness still flooded the room as night had overcome, rising with it the white moon and golden stars. However, the void was interrupted by the dancing colours that the black box projected, lighting up the many picture frames that hung along the walls of their home. 

Sighing, (name) shifted closer into the embrace of her lover, who tenderly rubbed her hands along her back, needing out the stress faced by the day. Her eyes drifted gently towards her, though the other pair remained attached to the bright screen; examining each moment and frame. 

Framing her face perfectly, her deep umber hair reflected the light, adding a slight glow to it and her visage. Though even without it to (name), Michelle would always look like a goddess. Each of her features looked as though they were crafted by the heavens and when together like a mosaic created a mural beyond compare. 

“ I want ours to be like that,” pulled out of her trance, (name) followed her gaze towards the television set on which one of those cheesy romcoms was playing.  

It was a wedding scene between two impossible lovers, yet from them, a beautiful relationship had blossomed. They ran from the church together, arms linked together. Her white gown contrasted with his black tux, creating the perfect balance. Entering the car in a frenzy, the two ducked in, to escape the excited friends and family who had gathered to see them off on their marriage that would most likely lead to divorce because of the sudden bond. 

“ A future disaster waiting to happen?” the snarky remark caused a slap from the brunette, though not enough to hurt her, she could never. 

“ No, you dumbass,” giggles erupted from her plump lips, " classic, beautiful, and surrounded by loved ones.”. A soft smile formed on Michelle's face as she imagined their perfect wedding, she could already picture the flower arrangements.

“It'd be a beautiful wedding as long as you're there darling,” (names) soft tone caused a blush to erupt along with her lover's cheeks, painting them a tinted pink.

“Stop that (name),” turning in on herself in embarrassment, trying to hide the flustered look.

“Never,” she teased, peppering her face and neck with light kisses,” not until you believe me.” 

"No (nAMe) thAT TICKELS," screeching and lightly shoving them away in an attempt to stop their incoming attacks, however, these actions lead to the two of them promptly falling off the couch.

“Now,” (name) announced, looking down at her girlfriend,” are you done being full of bullshit  or must I continue your torture.” 

"Fine fine, okay you win," her smooth hands rising in defeat, acting in surrender, " but I'm serious tho, I do want our wedding to be like that, I want it to be perfect for us."  Her words were sincere, however, her tone was laced with doubt. She looked over to the side with slight disappointment evident in her brown glistening eyes. 

“ But I understand if you don't want one like that though-,"

" I do"

" Well then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and ...wife. You may now kiss the Bride!" (Name's) eyes meet Michelle as the two admired the moment, however, the gaze was broken as the dark skinned woman dipped her lover and brought her into a passionate kiss. Their lips locked together, moving in gently in sink and adoration. 

The room erupted with boisterous cheers and hollers as friends and family congratulated the newly wedded couple. 

As the women parted from their intimacy, laughter flowed from Michelle's parted lips after seeing the sight of her smitten lover, who looked dazed after the bold action. Before (Name) could truly get a hold of herself, she felt an arm link with hers and begin to tug her along the red carpet laid out for the occasion. 

How (name) and so magically happened to not trip on hers and her lover's dress was a miracle, seeing as both dragged five feet from them in all directions, however, they would take this over a humiliating tumble down the church steps. 

Dashing up the aisle, which they had earlier walked down, they ran together hand in hand, passing by the faces of those close to them. As the couple soon reached the doors of the church, together they pushed open the beautiful craved and decorated entrance and stepping out into bright sunlight. 

The outside of the chapel was, too, decorated for the event. The various pink, purple and orange flowers were the perfect contrast to the neutral white and green base tones. The floral decorations were scattered among the pillars of the building and lined along the archway as well. Golden and white confetti gracefully fluttered towards the ground, sticking themselves to the hair and dresses of the brides. 

Continued their race towards their getaway vehicle and swiftly got in and away from the beautiful chaos.

(Name) took a breath, taking at the moment, before turning to her lover who sat fancily waving to those who had come to celebrate with them. She was perfect and, as cheesy as it sounded, the love of her life. Her golden heart was the beacon that guided them to the land of a blissful relationship. Each word she sang, muttered or yelled added to her gorgeous symphony that (Name) could listen to for hours. Each action tugged on her heartstrings, and no matter how small, they always pulled her deeper into the endless ocean of her devoted love for her, but even drowning would be worth it if it meant drowning with Michelle. 

"God I Love you."

[novawrights]

When Home Finds You

Plot- Reader remembers a darker time in her life before coming to Lady Dimitrescu's castle, Lady Dimitrescu shows her the home she's been searching for.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR PAST SELF HARM/DEPRESSION.

I sat in the library looking at the calendar on the wall. You would think a timeless vampire wouldn't need one but from what her daughters said, it was a recent thing when you had arrived a few months ago because they hadn't seen one before. So you took advantage of keeping track of each important date. Birthdays, special things they celebrated or treasured, even your birthday, all written in with flowing cursive writing. But one specific day was just a dot. They all shrugged when they saw it thinking it meant nothing but to you, it meant everything. My thumb subconsciously stroked my upper left thigh where thin scars crisscrossed across the fair skin. Most of my life I have felt alone, an apartment in the States that only held the essentials like clothes; basically a place to eat and sleep while I went to my job as a waitress and came home with no one to tell my day to, gossip with or have girls or friends nights. Early on I drifted apart from friends and the moment my so called accepting  family figured out I was were more into women they swiftly and cruelly disowned me. That's when I became best friends with a silver razor blade. Four years of cutting any piece of skin that could be hidden, becoming an expert in covering and tending to wounds, but three years ago, I forced myself to stop. I was then pulled from my thoughts when the big, oak doors opened and revealed Lady Dimitrescu. Or as I somehow got away with calling her, Alcina. Neither of you knew how it started or why she let's it be when the first moment a maid says it, her golden eyes flash with the fury of lightening in a thunderstorm.

"What are you doing in here all by your lonesome?" She asked, voice laced with concern that her eyes mirrored. I shrugged not taking my eyes off the calendar with today's date being the anniversary when you stopped cutting.

"Thinking about how I got here." I murmured. It wasn't a lie. Had I been left to my thoughts any longer I would have eventually made it to the day I showed up on her doorstep soaking wet and damn near hypothermic. She hummed as she sat in the chair next to me and placed a tray with two tea cups on it. Probably the one drink I had ever seen her drink without any blood in it.

"A strange day indeed. My daughter's usually devour any intruders immediately but for some reason they were definitely part of the argument to keep you alive." Her voice smooth with agreement with a hint of a smile and I chuckled in response.

"Oh yeah?" I teased as I looked over in her direction. While she was this tall, incredible and powerful woman, the soft spot she only had for her daughters, now extended to me. She met my gaze, golden irises meeting my steel gray with the softness only so few saw.

"I'm not one to believe in fate. I've lived far too long to really give it credit should anything good, or bad, come my way. But you took that belief and stomped all over it." She sighed as she turned her gaze into the fire I had long forgotten I lit. "Now I know I promised to give you privacy with your thoughts, but something is bothering you enough I can feel the storm cloud from my chambers across the castle." I sighed knowing she wasn't going to let this go. It was weird she had offered me who ended up agreeing to be a maid, privacy. Especially so soon.

"Several years ago things kind of fell apart. Family disowned me and friends drifted apart so I was literally coming home to an empty apartment every day after work." I started as I took the teacup from her hand and took a sip, letting the apple cinnamon flavor warm me. I could feel her eyes fall on me as she mirrored my action with her own tea. "When you get lonely, you don't always have the best coping mechanisms. Mine, was self destructive. Easy to conceal and no one would know since I never wore shorts or went out to the beach or wore dresses when I went to a club." I snorted before taking another sip. "Extremely glad I hadn't known you or the girls then." I added as a whisper as I turned my gaze to her. Her eyes darted across my face as if she was trying find the answer without me saying it. It was only until her eyes widened a moment later that I knew she figured it out. "You would have eaten me alive." She coughed. Not the best time to throw a suggestive joke like that but the line we danced across between attraction and a degree of softness reserved for lovers, was always front and center of my mind.

"We would have." She agreed softly. I looked at the calendar and gestured with my chin.

"That dot next to today's date, is the day I forced myself not to cut myself anymore. The day I threw out my razor blades."

"How long?"

"Three years self harm free." She didn't say anything and I heard the rustle of her white dress as she moved. I felt a twinge of fear squeeze my heart. Would she kick me out? Mock me? Strip me of my clothes and humiliate me that I wasn't strong enough? But to my surprise, a black glove and white sleeve entered my peripheral vision. I looked up and blinked away the tears that I hadn't realize were popping up.

"Come, my dear." She whispered. I wiped my eyes and took her hand as she led me from the library. It didn't take me long to realize she was leading me to her chambers.

"Al..." I murmured. She sent me a small smile as she opened the doors to her room, before leading me to the room where her bath was held. It always reminded me of a in ground pool for how big it was but also since it was indeed, in the ground surrounded by black tile.

"Get in." She gestured. I looked and saw it was already filled, the room smelled of lavender and the water still warm by the steam rising from it. I was thankful she turned away so I could have some modesty left since this was a boundary we hadn't come close to breaching. I stepped into the water and nearly moaned at the warm feel of it on my skin. When I got completely in I sat on the little ledge as she walked towards it.

"Tonight is about you. Because not only am I glad you had some impulse to travel, and travel here of all places and your car to break down in the middle of a storm, I'm also glad you've gotten over whatever life has thrown you. Even if there were a couple roadblocks in the way." I nearly teared up as she knelt on the tile and grabbed a purple bottle. She tapped my head as a non verbal cue to wet my hair, which I complied with, before resurfacing where my head my her hands with shampoo already lathered and ready to be coaxed into my brown hair. My eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped me as I let myself relax and surrender to her fingers. Even when I felt like it was enough, she kept going.

"Times like this I wish I had my music. Even if you guy don't have electronics, most of my bands do vinyls still so a turntable would work." I sighed.

"I'll see what I can do, my sweet." The pet names were becoming more frequent these days, not that I was complaining. Another tap a few moments later for me to rinse out my hair of the sweet smelling shampoo and I couldn't help but enjoy the domestic intimacy between us. After rinsing my hair and feeling more relaxed than I had that day, I felt like my head was a little clearer and the storm cloud had gone away. She reached around and stroked my cheek.

"Dry off and meet me in my room." She whispered. I blinked as she practically glided out of the room before standing. I took one of the big fluffy towels she used and towel dried my hair as much as I could, and dried my body off. I noticed a pair of my old running shorts and a tank top waiting for me to change into. I ignored the blush creeping up my neck seeing a pair of underwear laying with it.

After changing I walked out of the room to see her in front of her fireplace with a silver goblet with her blood laced wine with another with plain red wine that I liked. I took a seat on the sinfully comfortable, crimson red couch next to her.

"I've felt this draw to you since you arrived. It's why the tasks I gave you kept you closer to me and report to me instead of anyone else. It's why I've done so much more for you as a maid compared to everyone else that has walked through these halls." She started. "If my instincts are correct, you feel the same or follow the same trail of thouught." Lady Alcina, the one who seems impossible to fluster or look unsure, cast this vulnerable air around her; and it surprised me. I swallowed knowing there was no way out of this conversation.

"I-I-I do." I stammered. I looked up at her and met teary eyes filled with love, adoration, compassion and genuine happiness.

"Fate does seem to come into play sometimes." She murmured before she leaned in where her wine red lips met mine. I'm not one to use cheesy movie clichés, but this kiss felt like I was home and complete in a way I thought was just a cruel joke for me. I felt her hand softly touch my thigh where the spandex had ridden up and a few scars where revealed. Pale lines that were almost invisible gleamed in the fire light. When she pulled away from the gentle kiss, her eyes flickered toward them, almost as if she knew my panicked trail of thought was going.

"You are so beautiful, my love. No scar, bruise, wound or anything will ever make me think otherwise." She assured me as her thumb caressed them much like mine had done just a while ago.

"But most of all," she continued, "You're home.

With me and my daughters. " I hadn't realized how much her words would mean to me until I felt tears falling in rapid succession that she brushed them away before pulling me towards her chest. There was one thing I had been hoping to find and I found it in the arms of Lady Alcina.

[theflashdriver]

Shipwrecked (Silvaze)

New silvaze oneshot! Marine crashes her newly built submarine, interrupting a picnicking date being had by a certain time traveler and fiery princess. Can Silver console the raccoon while still making the most of Blaze's day off? I hope you enjoy! 

---

The salty waterers of the Sol dimension were surprisingly warm today. Silver the hedgehog had long since learned that a hot day on the land didn’t necessarily mean the waters were good for swimming. For the first handful of summer days, that trick of the sun had caught him off guard, sending him into, and then very quickly out of, the icy cold sea. He supposed that they were now deep enough into the warm season that even the ocean was feeling it, a fact that was quite fortunate given his current predicament.

A psychically manifested scuba suit, including a breathing tank, was aiding him in a search for strips of metal that had been torn from a certain ship. He must have scanned the ocean floor for a good half hour by now and most of the pieces had been collected, but he had to gather as much as was feasible. If it wasn’t for the rocky nature of these waters, then he’d have surely finished this job in a matter of minutes. Alas, great stony spears seemed to jut out of the seabed at every angle and the commonality of seaweed and barnacle beds wasn’t helping matters. This wasn’t a terrible way to spend an afternoon, but the psychokinetic hadn’t expected today to go like this.

What had started as a very well planned and regular day had quickly spiralled out of control. The twenty-three-year-old hedgehog had woken up with butterflies in his stomach and excitement on his mind, knowing that Blaze had managed to procure a day away from her royal duties. Their bond had been rekindled several years ago, but it was only with the final restoration of the future that those flames had grown.

Silver had ended up staying in the Sol dimension and, following more than a few fumbled kisses and the feline’s much too subtle hints, gradually entered a more romantic relationship with Blaze. More romantic rather than actually romantic because, well, they hadn’t exactly talked about the shift so much as simply drifted in the general direction of deeper intimacy. Whenever he tried to bring it up, she’d silence him with a kiss or call him naive, just as she had when he’d historically asked if they were friends. It’d started as a way to obscure her own embarrassment, but she’d always enjoyed teasing him.

Reflecting on those moments made his heart pound and a goofy grin slip onto his lips, but the sight of something lying in a seaweed bed stole his attention. With the point of his finger, cyan aura ruffled through the seagrass patch and eventually managed to manifest around a single mass. The hedgehog heaved up his right hand and, matching the movement, a large rasher of metal rose from the depths. It was bent in a few places, it’d clearly torn against the rocks and been flung away by the swell, but it seemed to be in better condition than the bulk of the metal he’d found.

The hedgehog swam a little further, positioning himself above where the piece had crashed. Sure enough, it looked as though three more pieces had landed in the vicinity. Perhaps these were the last of the missing chunks? Blaze would chastise him for assuming that…

He dropped the strip he’d been carrying, a mass roughly the size of his torso, back down onto the seagrass before raising his hands to the sunny surface. Quickly, a bubble as big as his head descended into the depths and, following another gesture, fused into his psychic breathing apparatus. He heaved a deep breath, channelling more psychic energy from his palms before sending it to scour the seafloor.

His eyes shut as he allowed his sense of touch to guide the search, clinging to anything hard as he felt the sea and its flora alike slip through his grasp. There were actually five large pieces and seven or eight smaller fragments, it was difficult to count with his mind so full. Even if this wasn’t the last of the lost metal, it’d surely be enough to keep his partner busy. He clenched his feet, tightening his grasp on the metal to pull it after him.

Kicking his feet, the hedgehog managed to emerge at the surface and take to the sky. The now obsolete parts of his scuba suit vanished, resulting in the usual layer of cyan skin wore to fly. He was entirely dry, totally untouched by the seawater.

Flanked by the metal, he scanned his surroundings and quickly found their destination. Not too far away, around a stone’s throw from the horizon, floated a small and sandy island with a current population of two, soon to be three. As he approached, heaving his discovery behind him, its details came more clearly into view. The island was no bigger than a modest family house, home to three palm trees and five large grey rocks. Recently though, it’d seen the addition of one Marine the Raccoon’s crashed speedy-submarine.

The young shipwright, only thirteen, had designed the submarine to retrieve treasures lost on the seafloor. She’d been expressly told not to test it out without someone around to supervise her but, not one to be told what to do, she’d taken it out this morning, assumedly the instant Silver had left to meet with Blaze. The sobbing and babbling call that they’d received, just as they’d found a spot to picnic, had sent them into a manic dash. He’d swept the feline off her feet, abandoning their lunch, and taken to the sky. It’d taken less than an hour to track her down, a feat only possible due to the raccoon building a giant metal spire out of pieces she’d torn from her own craft.

Silver landed on the eastern edge of the island only to find that things were different from how he had left them. Marine had evidently run out of energy and crashed beneath one of the palm trees. The tide had quickly come in, swallowing more of what little land they had, but the speedy-submarine was still a ways away from being swept underwater. Somehow, likely due to the craft’s ludicrously powerful propulsion, Marine had ground it through the shallow waters for quite a distance before smashing it into a larger rock at the foot of the island. She’d managed to half-flip the submersible into the air and land it upside down on the island, the blatant damage she’d done exposed to the sky. The craft wasn’t especially big, it could roughly fit six people within its cramped interior, but seven breaches had clearly formed in the hull and all of its external gadgets had flown in various directions. It was fortunate that the propeller itself hadn’t been damaged.

Blaze was currently sat atop the cream-orange sub, clearly distracted by her work. While he’d been gathering the shed hunks of metal, she had been welding the craft back towards a more watertight state. She’d shed her usual royal robes before their outing, replacing them with a flowing black skirt and a tie dye purple shirt. Suffice to say, having planned things for weeks before finally managing to steal some free time, his partner wasn’t especially pleased to be working today. The thought of how to make things up to her had been weighing on him ever since they observed the extent of the damage. After all, they still had an afternoon and evening to share.

He approached the submarine on foot, still flanked by the dozen pieces of floating metal and watched as she pulled back from the gash she was sealing to wipe her brow with the back of her forearm. Despite how annoying this all was, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter a little. Perhaps it was the way the sun silhouetted her from above, maybe it was down to her change of dress or even the fact that she was using her power so casually, but, ultimately, why he felt this way didn’t matter. It’d taken him ages to understand concepts like romance and attraction, much longer than it probably should have, but, now that he did, Silver couldn’t help but bask in them. He didn’t just love her; he was in love. That fact was still so fresh in his mind.

It took Blaze throwing him a glance to snap him out of it, followed by a coy, “Did you enjoy your swim?”

“Oh, um, y-yeah,” He managed to stutter, turning to gesture toward the shards, “Are things going okay? I’m pretty sure this is the last of it. You should have all the important parts now.”

“I’m fine,” She managed to shrug and look back down to the hull, “I just hope we can get off this island soon.”

Catching the annoyance lingering in her tone, he couldn’t help but pipe up, “We can do something tonight if you want,” She looked down to him and, despite the intrigue on her muzzle, his confidence flagged, “J-Just if you want to, of course. I could cook something or maybe we could go out? Anything really, it’s up to you, I just don’t want to waste today.”

“Well, I suppose I could spare another couple of hours,” That smile crept back across her muzzle, “On one condition.”

She didn’t elaborate, but her tail swished as she awaited his response, “What condition?”

“You have to plan it this time,” Her coyness grew into a full smirk, “You’re in charge.”

Silver felt his heart skip a beat and his tongue grow very heavy. Throughout their time not explicitly dating, Blaze had taken the lead in most things. Even if he ended up doing the bulk of the preparation, as had been the case for their abandoned picnic, their outings and endeavours were driven by her. Sure, he’d show up and bring Blaze gifts from time to time but that was usually born of spur of the moment ideas rather than planning. The feline being the limiting factor on their outings had historically put her in charge of them, it was her time off after all and he hadn’t wanted to squander it.

“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” He managed to reply, “I have a couple of ideas-

“Surprise me,” In a single fluid motion, Blaze turned back to her work, still smirking, “You’ve got plenty of time to figure something out.”

The hedgehog swallowed, feeling sweat mount on his brow. He drifted into the air, tugging a slab of the metal after him, and quickly landed atop the submarine. Like putting together a puzzle, he tried to match a piece of torn metal to its respective hole. The action was barely enough to distract him from the pounding of his own heart but, fortunately, Blaze seemed to be caught up in her work. He managed to get a single large piece to mostly fit, positioning a couple of the smaller pieces nearby in an attempt to complete the shape.

As he finished and turned to grab another though, his eyes drifted over to Marine. Now closer, he noticed that the raccoon wasn’t actually asleep. Rather uncharacteristically, the shipwright had simply been sitting quietly beneath the tree. It was difficult to tell from so far away but Silver could plainly detect a certain solemness from her posture, her arms loosely crossed and back rigid. When he’d left for the ocean, she’d been working away at the hull as best as she could.

“Is everything okay with Marine?” He asked Blaze as she shifted from one hole to another.

“She tried to draw a blueprint in the sand to help explain some more complex repairs to me, but the tide came in and washed them all away,” The feline winced, “I think it’ll be fine without them, but she really wanted to help. I told her it’s fine but…”

The cat and raccoon pair’s friendship had changed a lot over the years. When he’d first arrived the two would occasionally get into spats that could last for days, usually deriving from Blaze’s longing to protect the youngster from her own sense of adventure. The princess was right to do so, Marine would get herself stranded or stuck fairly regularly, but Blaze’s own patience would occasionally wear thin and she’d end up angrily inspiring those very adventures. The raccoon would often leave in a strop, promising to prove Blaze wrong but very rarely doing so. Ultimately, the two of them had come to a sort of mutual appreciation over the years, likely urged on by a combination of familiarity and Blaze gradually letting down her walls. That change hadn’t stopped the raccoon’s adventurous tendencies, but it had made her a lot more responsible regarding them.

“If you’ll be okay doing this on your own for a little while, I could go talk to her?” Silver offered.

“I’d appreciate it,” She managed to nod, “Tell her that I’ll at least make it sailable again.”

“Alright,” He cast another glance to the youngster, allowing the remaining metal pieces to pile themselves in the sand, “I’ll do my best.”

He dropped from the top of the submarine but, as he made his approach, the raccoon had turned away. Rather than her typical green dress, she’d opted to go out in her denim work overalls and a simple t-shirt, perhaps suggesting that she’d anticipated some sort of issue. Her toolbox was sat beside her, messy as usual.

“Hey, Marine,” He could hear the hesitation in his own voice. He swallowed before dropping down to sit beside her, “It looks like Blaze will be able to fix your submarine up. It’ll all be fine.”

“Oh, that’s good,” She responded, offering no further insight through her words but a world’s worth with her tone.

Marine was more like him than she was like Blaze, even he wasn’t so oblivious as to miss that. While Blaze was frankly too good at obscuring her emotions and denying herself enjoyment, Marine and he were far more obvious in their expression. He could tell how disheartened she was by the tone of her voice, let alone her change in posture and wincing expression. Usually Marine was endlessly talkative, she’d talk for hours on end without even a moment’s thought, so for her to respond so simply was a clear indication of her current state.

The hedgehog’s hand found his chest fluff and began to awkwardly tug, “I think we’ll make it back well before dinner. Is there anything you particularly want?”

“Not really,” She glumly responded. For a moment, Silver thought that was all she’d say, “Shouldn’t you spend that time with Blaze? Seeing as I’ve already…”

“Don’t worry about that Marine,” Silver shook his head, “We’re just glad you’re okay. That crash could have been much worse.”

“Yeah, well,” She still hadn’t turned to him, “I messed up, again.”

“Marine,” He sighed, “It’s fine, it’s all fine.”

“But I ruined you two’s date. Blaze hardly gets time off as it is, she’s got to be boilin’ mad with me,” The raccoon protested, “And she’s right to be, she told me not to, that’s the worst part.”

“I told you, we’re just glad you’re okay. The instant we got your call we set out, your safety is more important,” A silence briefly filled the air and he felt the need to fill it, “As for the date, well, she still wants that to happen but…” That caught the Racoon’s eye, he couldn’t back out, “She’s put me in charge of it and I’ve got to figure out what we’ll do.”

“Oh, mate, that sounds like a lot of pressure for you,” She snorted, looking away again, “Try not to break under the strain.”

“Thank you for the show of confidence,” He mumbled, “She wants me to surprise her like she surprises me. I doubt she’s being serious about it, but I want to do my best.”

“I dunno mate,” She shrugged, “Sounds pretty serious to me. You’d better give it some thought.”

“Well, I’m open to ideas,” He said, more trying to get her talking rather than actually asking for ideas, “I could just make dinner or plan a walk, but this feels like it should be something special.”

“Probably, you want to make a good impression, show her that you can handle this,” The raccoon was slipping back into her usual tone, “She teases you enough as it is, imagine how much ammunition this could give her.”

“She already has enough to last the rest of our lives,” The hedgehog happily mused, “It’ll hardly be a drop in the bucket either way, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do this as best I can.”

“I guess so,” She mumbled.

The raccoon seemed to have realised that she was being led out of her wallowing and, rather than allow that, retreated back into herself. He had to keep this up, “You know, she used to chew me out just like she used to tell you off,” That got her attention, “Ever since we were tiny, she always took the lead.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” Marine bluntly responded.

“H-Hey,” His stammer put a small smirk on her face, “Well, you’re not wrong. She still does now, even if it’s not quite in the same way,” He continued, swallowing what little pride he had, “I used to come up with plans and run off on my own a lot, I’d get into all kinds of scrapes.”

“What?” She exclaimed, “But I thought she was the boss?”

“Eventually she got sick of me doing it and took charge,” He explained “Before that, I’d leave her behind, promising to beat a monster and come back, only to return all roughed up but insisting I was fine. She’d have to trick me into letting her see my injuries, I wanted to do everything myself and fix our world.”

“But wasn’t the future,” She made a vaguely t-rex like hand motion, “Overrun by monsters back then? They’d literally destroyed the world, hadn’t they?”

“Rivers of lava literally ran through the city and the sun was blotted out by clouds of soot,” Silver recalled, “My younger self didn’t really see that as an issue though. He thought it’d be easy, the kind of thing you could sort in a day.”

Marine snorted, almost chuckling, “That sounds like you.”

“The first time she stood up to me was incredible, you should have seen it,” Silver’s eyes drifted back to the feline, still welding the submarine, as he began to reminisce, “I’d limped in after fighting like an idiot, running all over the city, and she just pushed me over,” He heard Marine snort again, “She’s cute now but, back then, her frown didn’t fit on her face. Blaze was this tiny purple kitten and I’d convinced myself that I had to protect her, even though I was much shorter than her,” Now the raccoon was chuckling but Silver’s eyes didn’t leave Blaze, “I tried to make a fuss and get back up, but she properly pinned me down and mercilessly bandaged everything. By the time she’d finished, I was practically a mummy, I couldn’t even move.”

“That that really sounds like her,” Marine responded, finally reclaiming his gaze. She’d left her shell again, “It doesn’t sound like she was especially scary though.”

“Well, even back then, she could spit fire as easily as she could conjure it,” He grinned, “Once she had me trapped, she talked my ear off. She stood over me and just started shouting, letting out all of her annoyance, and, from then on, she never held back with me. If there was a problem, she’d make it very clear,” His gaze wandered back to Blaze, “Whenever I was about to do something stupid she’d just grab me but, eventually, she didn’t even need to do that. She’d call me naïve and it’d stop me in my tracks.”

The raccoon giggled, “Mate, she’s had you on a leash for that long?”

“She’s just cared for that long,” He bumped her shoulder with his, “I know she’s been harsh in the past but that’s only because she cares about you too. That was the only way she could show her concern.”

“I know, I know. She’s not as…” She seemed to be searching for the right word, “Stern as she used to be.”

“Things have changed, she’s learned that being more open is okay so she feels comfortable showing off her softer side,” The psychic agreed, “I certainly wouldn’t be in my current position if that wasn’t the case, neither of us would have any idea what to do with our relationship.”

“Now you’re the only clueless one,” She joked.

“Y-Yeah,” He quickly turned from Blaze as the feline threw a glance towards them, feeling the heat on his muzzle, “What am I going to do…”

“Flounder and fail probably,” She smirked.

“Flounder huh?” Perhaps it was born of that word alone, or it was bolstered by the shipwright’s creation and his time spent seeking out its parts, but an idea manifested in Silver’s head, “Marine, when you were in your submarine, did you see anything interesting?”

“Interesting?” She blinked, “What do you mean, mate?”

“You had to sail pretty far to get here,” He thought aloud, “Did you actually find anything? Any sunken wrecks or interesting spots?”

“No, there were no sunken wrecks, mate. I wouldn’t have crashed it if there was. I would have found my treasure and then headed back to rub it in everyone’s faces,” She responded, finally talking more positively about her experience, “I saw some pretty little fish and maybe a giant squid at one point but, besides that, it was all very boring.”

Setting his questions about the giant squid aside, Silver pried further, “Pretty fish? Did you see them anywhere in particular or just in general?”

Marine squinted, rubbing her chin, “Well, there was one place that they were pretty common. There was one of those coral reef places, a pretty small one though. There were all sorts of fish and crabs and stuff, it was real rough to navigate.”

That sounded perfect, “Once we’ve fixed up your submarine, do you think you could get there again?”

“Probably mate, why?” She questioned.

“Well, while carrying your submarine home would have been too much for me, I think I can manage a little bit of scuba diving,” He half explained, “Maintaining a couple of suits with my power shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Oh, I get it! Aww mate, that’s a brilliant idea, you two’ll can do that and I’ll keep-

Silver clamped his hand over Marine’s mouth, throwing a quick glance at Blaze. The feline hadn’t turned to face them, even though she’d undoubtedly heard the raccoon’s shouting, “Th-This is supposed to be a surprise Marine, remember?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” She muttered, forcing her way free, “But alright mate, I can totally get you guys there.”

The raccoon looked far more like her usual self. Her ears had even returned to their usual formation. Honestly, just having heard her laugh had relaxed him, “Alright, I’m going to go check if Blaze needs help fixing the submarine. Will you be okay?”

“Who, me? Yeah, I’ll be fine. Fine as ever,” He gave her one last nod before rising, making sure that was the truth. As he went to turn though, her voice called out again, “Thanks, mate.”

“It’s no problem, Marine,” Silver smiled back to her, “We’ll have this sorted in no time.”

He made his way across the sand, approaching the large pile of dented and worn metal. With little more than the flick of his wrist, the hedgehog again lifted himself to stand atop the submersible. The feline had just about finished sealing the largest of the remaining holes so, quick to respond, the hedgehog weaved his hands through the air and began to set up the rest of her patchwork.

“Hello again,” She called up to him, not looking away from her work.

“Good afternoon,” He hummed, psychically fiddling with the giant puzzle, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“I didn’t think I’d be here either, it’s been an interesting day,” She was smirking again, her fangs were only just visible.

The feline shifted, moving to a slightly smaller breach. With the snap of her fingers a flame manifested atop her fingertip before quickly shrinking and growing brighter. Bracing against the hull, she began to trace that finger along where the two masses met. Sparks flew as she moved slowly, allowing the metal to reach a near molten state before leaving it to cool and fuse.

Though it was no different from Marine doing the bulk of her metalwork, Silver found himself more and more enamoured as Blaze continued. Despite the difficult nature of the work, there was something almost elegant to her movements, it was like watching her write or dance. The flames she’d hidden for so long were now just another part of her, an extension of her being that came to her as naturally as curling her fingers. What she’d once insisted was separate from her now worked with her to do all manner of good.

“Silver, you’re staring,” She reminded him, not so much as glancing up.

“S-Sorry, I just like watching you work,” He said, feeling a goofy grin grow on his lips, “It reminds me of how things have changed.”

“If you stand so close, you’ll get burned,” She warned, smirking as she continued to work.

Accepting her words but unwilling to depart, the hedgehog took to the air. In a single motion he went from standing upright to hovering upside down, still face to face with her but having put his body well out of the way.

“Better?” As she looked up to see him, her smirk almost failing to contain her laugher, he felt his face light up red. If his heart had skipped any more beats, being stranded would be the least of his worries.

“You’re so naïve,” She tutted, rolling her eyes. In an instant, the flare vanished from her finger. She scooted just a little closer, “But…”

“But you always-

Before he could finish, her lips found his. Still upside down, he was kissed and soon found himself kissing her. The warmth of her lips pressing against his, the lingering taste of the lemonade he’d made for them, and the inherent knowledge that the woman he knew to be so powerful was being so very gentle sent the hedgehog into a blissful daze. Even her smoky scent, that he was sure would irk others, so thoroughly and completely completed the experience that was kissing his beloved. As if the ecstasy somehow wasn’t enough, he felt her fingers brush through his quills and tilt his head to pull him closer.

This was still new to him, strange to him, and he wasn’t certain that he was doing it correctly… but did that matter when he was enjoying it so much? Maybe he would get better at this with time but, then again, maybe he wouldn’t. They had grown together and would continue to grow together, taking on new aspects and improving on their failings. Who was to say when their growth would stop or whether it ever would? All Silver knew for certain was that he wanted to keep growing with her and see just what that growth would bring.

[long-cosmos-overhead]

James Norrington x Reader

Prompt: I was thinking about this one for a while but if you're ever in the mood for writing PotC could you maybe do something with Barbossa or Norrington? Maybe something with a build up like a first kiss or the first time the character and the reader fight someone/something together by each other's side, and their coordination on the battlefield gets tested for the first time and perhaps it strengthens the connection or leads to taking certain measures like training/teaching how to use weapons and react under pressure

I’m going to split these into two parts this one is for Norrington the other will be for barbossa

(I do not own PoTC or its characters/ gif not mine)

Your hand gripped the hilt of the sword. If it were a warm sunny day the blade would’ve reflected the light back out into the vast port just like it did for the past few weeks. The sky was a dark grey possibly setting to rain making the atmosphere cold and dreary. The type of cold to get in your bones and latch on tight until the golden sun tore through the clouds again.

Your knuckles and fingertips turned a harsh red and your wrist ached from swinging the sword only to clash with his powerful defenses that returned in sending pain right up your wrist in swift pangs. You had concluded the moment James first swung at you, that you could never truly appreciate the extent of skill, concentration and pain it took to seem so effortlessly fluent in a field unless you yourself have tried to walk the same path with the same motive.

The more you attacked and defended from what would be fatal blows out on vast seas or faced with a man or woman with the intention to maim or kill, the more energy flowed out your body. You were drained. It felt like water passing from a stream downhill and into dry land most likely to never be seen again. You had improved since first starting you could barely lift a sword back then however your grip still faltered when you lost energy and your movements still became sloppy and delayed.

Your mind trailed away. A dangerous move much too dangerous. Once your mind and body was out of sync you had written your death sentence.

A kick to your legs dragged your mind back down. It was a harsh reminder that you had once again failed to meet your standards the reality knocked down the platform your stood on like a fire against wooden beams. You fell to the ground your sword clattering somewhere in the distance. Your hip instantly throbbed in pain, your wrist and elbow followed suit in acquainting themselves with the hard floor below you.

“Y/n!”

You hadn’t realised your face scrunched up in pain until you opened your eyes to meet the owner of the deep voice. James’ eyes wore worry like a new pair of shoes and his hand trailed inches away from your body before softly resting uncertainly on your cheek almost pleading you to react to his touch instead of pain.

“Y/n I am terribly sorry, I didn’t-”

Your words cut him off saving him an apology and you the salt being rubbed in the wound that you managed to be taken down by a kick to the legs.

“It’s fine James, I wasn’t paying attention, I’m at fault here.”

James picked you up from where you lay gently placing a hand round your arm and one under your waist. If anything standing up made it hurt a little more. Your eyes met James’ face, an almost unreadable expression settled on his features. Only a little readable emotion bled through. It read love however undertones of desperation and want. You weren’t sure what was going on and in all honesty you didn’t feel in the state of mind to be able to piece together such heavy emotions.

However you did pick up on how attractive he looked. Even fresh from a fight you couldn’t deny he was a beautiful man. The way the light caught his eyes and made them appear like the stars beaming in the dark. The way his facial features only seemed to compliment one another, the way he treated you as the most important and valued thing in his life. James Norrington was perfect to you.

James stared back at you and by all the grace of you gods he loved every part of you. The way your skin felt when it touched him, the way he could hold you, the way you made him feel safe and enough in such a plagued world. He was so proud of you. The way you picked up sword fighting the same way as his men once had despite the ridicule from ladies and hours of straining physical movements. James wanted you safe, as safe as you could be. He would always be there by your side to fight off evil but should the time come where he wasn’t he couldn’t even think of what he’d do without you.

His eyes wandered to your lips and it shook him at just how much he wanted to kiss you. To share all his love through such intimacy and feel your body against his and despite the looming cloud that stole all your energy and the dull throb in your side you wanted the exact same.

You two were entranced into a void where only each other existed, time slowed till the point where every little thing was almost slow motion and the intensity of the gases which you looked at each other were immeasurable. Your heart beat irregularly in your chest almost as if it were trying to meet James’ or to drag you closer and by all the power in the world you could not think to move away.

Nasty twangs of pain at your side bled into the void you and James got caught in. Your face suppressed the obvious uncomfortableness that seemed to follow blunt force injuries however as much as you tried James noticed. He had a thing for noticing things. He never let on that he observed far more than the average man or he picked up inconsistencies but you knew.

“Y/n if I may.”

He reached out a hand for you to take asking permission to touch you and lead you to your home. No matter how much you protested he must be tired, James always walked you home. He wanted to know you were safe and be able to share some sort of intimacy with you, to slip his fingers between yours and warm your cold hands.

It may not have seemed like much holding his hand but even the most simplistic touch from James was euphoric. Some days you walked down cobbled streets laughing, today James was pretty silent just focusing on you and on the way you walked with a slight limp to your step. James felt guilty, a growing guilt that thrived the more he looked at you. He shouldn’t have swiped your legs it was not only wrong in terms of fighting with honour - it was misconduct, it was cheating. However his mind wasn’t all too concerned with that. His priory, his true priority was that he had hurt you. He never loved anyone the way he loved you even if you hadn’t kissed yet but that was no way to treat you especially since he is supposed to make you feel safe.

You looked over at James. His strong features never failing to entrance you. You were more than disappointed when you reached your door. Your house was pale in comparison to James’ yet he never seemed to mind. Before you knew him you assumed he was wealthy, commanding and rather uptight however you discovered none of the sort. He was kind and ever so gentle uncaring if he was seen away from well kept and otherwise anything he wouldn’t be associated with. He’d even offered money for upkeeps or repairs yet still left it after you declined.

“I trust you will be safe here Y/n.”

“I will always be safe at my own door, James you need not worry.”

He took your hand in his lightly pressing his lips to your knuckles trying to ignore how cold and tense you seemed. However he failed to notice how your muscles relaxed under his touch and how your eyes almost sparkled from how it felt as if you had been flushed with serotonin.

The feeling ebbed away as quick as it came when he walked away. His long coat that wrapped around his shirt fluttering at the end from the wind. You didn’t like being away from him it felt as if a part of you left with him even if it were only for a few hours. You couldn’t let him just leave. The kiss to your hand was like a spoonful of magic but you wanted more. It seemed selfish but you’d never loved anyone the way you loved him.

“James.”

He turned round to met with your arms around his waist and your body against his chest. He felt happy. Much happier than he’d ever felt you in his hold felt right and for once he could look around the port and see something beautiful. His arms came around your body pressing you a little closer to him. James was warm much warmer than you expected yet he felt far warmer with you despite the cold taking claim to you. It was like the warmth spread across his whole body. He was utterly in love with you.

Neither of you wanted to pull away but eventually you did but this time even when the cold settled back in your body you felt comfortable. He made you dizzy on love.

“Goodnight Norrington.”

It took him a while to break from his lovesick trance.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

You lay in your bed, the soft sheets encasing you like battle armour braving the war against the cold. Yet it seemed like a losing battle your fingertips red and your breath releasing from your mouth as white whisps, the way you imagined a soul would part from its physical being. A shaky breath parted your lips as you rubbed your hands together in hope that the friction would spark some ounce of warmth. Faint drops of rain hammered in the distance, the first few drizzles making way for an inevitable harsher forecast and despite the rain making you feel that bit colder and worried for the wood of your house you felt calm.

You turned on your side. The rustling of sheets almost silenced by the downfall outside. The last pieces of warmth you owned were slowly leaving your body. However the only thing you could focus on was how it would feel to be in James’ embrace. You wished to lay in bed with him and instead of slow dancing with the bitter cold you would be embraced in his warmth. To be completely domestic in each other’s arms. James made you feel warm. A nice warm like bathing in the soft evening sunlight. Your lips tugged upwards slightly and your hands rubbed together once more to grasp the heat amoung the cold before the white whisps parted your lips and wrapped around the candles orange flame releasing darkness through your room.

You awoke with a hammering at your door. It was clearly not a sophisticated knock at the time you weren’t even sure it was a knock however it woke you up immediately. Light shone through the gaps in the wall illuminating strips of your skin. You heard the shouts of men and the screams of woman. Metal on metal rung in your ears until the silence of death were clear, dominating any other sound you could hear.

You shakily stood up, eyes still fixed on the same spot as earlier. You shifted on your feet slightly tripping on the uneven floorboards that was until you heard the distinct voices of the navy men.

“Groves, Mullroy man the east ports.”

James. Something about his voice hit something within you. All your nerves that froze you in fear dissipated. They weren’t replaced by rationality if anything blind need to help, not just James but every man, woman and child took the main stand.

The hilt of your sword gleamed in the dreary light beconing you deeper into your mind with its persuasive grip. The vision and need blurring its lines to rally your body to take the cold hilt of the blade into your hand.

You didn’t acknowledge how the cold metal gripped you back however rushing outside your house you felt bare to the world. You felt small like you were back in your mothers arms again. Men were fighting left and right, some laying on the floor clutching dyed clothing. Smashed glass and splintered wood covered any remaining road. In the distance you heard the fire of guns and cannons which, had they been any closer, would’ve reigned superior to your hearing.

Strangled shouts and chokes were no longer shielded by the walls that you lay in and for a minute it was already all too much. The thought of James and the ever present survival instincts kept you from cowardice and you took your first step into the heat of the fight.

James boot kicked against the chest of its opponent. Water bled through the thin shirt and for a split second he seemed dazed enough for James to get the upper hand. Yet his mind and body were travelling in different wave lengths, his body urging for defence as desperate as a drowning man but his mind was focused on you. James was practically pacing from worry. You were alone without him or anyone to watch your blind spot. Even your home was bordering on the ever expanding outskirts of the gruesome battle and he’d seen firsthand how vicious and merciless pirates were, if you got caught you would not be spared.

The blade swiped all too close to his eyes slicing a stay stand of hair parting it from the others. James sword clashed on the second offence and continued to create the devils music until the blade was wedged in the oppositions lower abdomen. Shock contorted to pain and for a moment his eyes cleared and it was just two men with complex lives staring at each other. It was perhaps the most cruel curse that only a step away from death were people remorseful. His eyes held the heaviest emotions until they glassed over with nothingness. His body fell limp and he stared without seeing. James tugged his arm removing the support on the body allowing the man to finally rest.

James’ head whipped around in every direction he was surrounded by chaos but he needed you, by his side or not he needed to know you were safe.

Your body ached worse than you’d ever felt previous. A gash at your side created a passage for blood to freely travel out of and you wished you stayed in the safety of your home. You were almost fully doubled over in pain and your hand pressed against the growing red stain on your white shirt. The pirate infront of you grinned baring his gold teeth you could smell the alcohol on his breath and his movements read tipsy yet experienced with the blade. You knew the final hit was coming.

You surged any bit of energy that still remained within you to block the attack. Both swords clashing together sending ugly throbbing pains through your hand and wrist, they faired far worse than the ones while training. You barely saw the confusion on the pirates face, he was a rather big and muscular man easily outmatching you. You swiped your foot hitting the back of his knee sending him to the floor where your blade struck true.

You couldn’t tell how long or far you’d been walking through the carnage. Puddles rippled and quaked beneath your foot. Your sword gripped in your hand, the hilt somewhat warmed however still plagued with a different kind of a cold. Your wound had since clotted somewhat just not enough to offer taking away the need for medical care. Your hand had been placed at your side so long it too was beginning to cramp and lose its abilities. Fights were ugly affairs and you just wanted James.

James had been searching for you for longer than his liking. His stress and worry grew each passing second he traced the port unable to find you. Tears sprung to his eyes, he was overwhelmed sometimes the love he held for you overwhelmed him. Being faced with a hideous reality of losing you without even sharing a kiss coupled with the ever growing pit of fear and frustration never ceased to tip him closer and closer into the dangerous territories of his mind.

James blinked back the moisture in his eyes forming a warm uncomfortable gloss over his waterline. His chances of holding you once more grew thinner and thinner thoughout the fight and if it were a physical concept he may as well be walking on string. Pirates swung at him left and right most clearly tipsy and some outright drunk which lessened the danger equipped to them. They had since taken their retreat leaving devastation upon the port but leaving immeasurable torment within James.

“James.”

Your breath was strained, the rise and fall of your chest tortured your side. Your body bent at such an angle it seemed as if you had been sliced in two but you found him you finally had him.

He was disheveled, his hair fallen out of place to hang loosely infront of his eyes, clothes wet and sticking to his body at odd angles creating little shadows patterning his chest, his body was tired and his eyes still searching for the comfort of finding a lost thing so close to your heart. But he was beautiful.

The second the words parted your lips James turned around glossy eyed and mouth slightly parted. He felt his body lose hidden tension he didn’t realise he held onto. His demeanour shifted from relieved to grief stricken once his eyes laid on the red of your shirt. After the red pattern revealed itself to his eyes, the rest followed; the way your body shook in the bitter cold, how the tiredness trickled from your skin, how pleading you seemed to be relieved from such a horrific ordeal.

James couldn’t even acknowledge himself gravitating towards you until you were in his arms. He too shook however out of pure fear for your condition.

“My love, oh god.”

His words were jumbled as his hand ghosted over the wound at your side unsure to touch you or not. His mind too scared and filled with adrenaline to think logically.

“Y/n-,”

His words died in his throat when he felt you launch yourself into his embrace. His chest sparked like a flame kissing wood and fuel was generously added when you buried yourself deeper into his warmth. He had you in his arms right where he yearned for you to be.

“James,”

Your voice came out weaker than you anticipated and tears gathered in your eyes.

“I went out for you.”

James felt his heart fill with pure love. You had trained before but going to battle among pirates was an entire new level. He knew then as he stood with you in his arms that you were his keeper.

His hand gently traced the outskirts of your wound, it had almost entirely clotted itself up now, giving James some peace of mind however he still dare not touch you to cause more harm.

“Does- does it hurt, my love.”

His fingers traced around your skin sending electric through your body despite having barely grazed it.

“A little but I would suffer a thousand times if it meant I could come back to you.”

James couldn’t resist himself any longer your words touched something so deep within him breaking down the wall that restrained him from you. His hand came to slide around your lower back and the other around the back of your shoulders perfectly avoiding anything that could cause you pain. He tugged you towards him, his grip so tight and protective yet gentle and considerate. His lips connected with yours and if you could describe how you felt it would be as if all the warmth and love in the world channeled through your body at once. It was a simple kiss nothing alluding but full of passion and love, the ultimate outlet for all the events that took place a short time ago.

When the two of you parted you were left dizzy searching for air get already addicted to the feeling you had felt in such sheer quality.

“Come back with me,” he almost pleaded. “I want to keep you safe at least for tonight.”

You responded by leaning further into him your mind and body were exhausted yet somewhere in the back of your mind there was an urge. James saved your life, if it weren’t for his countless hours spent teaching you defence and offense and his constant patience you would surely have not survived.

“James, thank you,”

He looked down a slight bit confused for a moment.

“If it weren’t for you I’d surely be dead.”

“I’d spend the rest of my life teaching you if it meant you were safe.”

@lau-rae-lei

[radiosandrecordings]

Ace fic request if ya feel: Jmart taking a bath together at Upton, w some nonsexual nudity/intimacy? Thank u!!

“Ahaha, I’ll ask for some ace fic prompts and do drabbles for it!” I said, naively. 3K words later. Thank you Gwyn for reading over this and fixing my typos because it is. now coming up to 5am because I decided to write 3K in one sitting

CWs for talk of nudity but no one ever gets full nakey. Jon also has a brief panic about not being able to protect Martin without the Eye.

Ao3 version too 

They’d probably been awake for an hour or so by the time the feeling of grime coating his skin became intolerable. 

It felt wrong, really, the juxtaposition of the soft, clean cotton under his head and the greasy knots his hair had woven itself into over the course of their journey. Like it was insulting to the pillow, the case of which, Jon guessed absently, was worth more than his entire bed back in his flat, if it was still standing.

And wasn’t that something? To have to guess that and not just be aware. As it normally was, the Beholding would inform him that that wasn’t quite true, as while the sheets on this bed were certainly nice they were more chosen for display purposes than with the intent of anyone truly sleeping in them. The house was a museum. The curators had not supposed upon the current scenario. 

The current scenario being that there were two men lying in it, half asleep, lying still and just staring at each other with an eye-watering fondness. They had spoken, when they first awoke. Got out all the words they wanted to say. The “Where are we” and the “How long were we asleep?” and the “Is it finally safe to rest?” and the “I love you so, so much.” 

Now the thing to break the silence was the sound of Martin’s stomach making its discontent known. This, of course, sent them both into peals of laughter, because when was the last time they’d felt mundane hunger? 

“Do you think they even have food here?” Martin asks, still buried up to his neck in duvet. 

“Perhaps? Salesa surely has to eat, if we do.” 

“Yeah, but Annabelle though,” Martin chews his lip in mock contemplation. “What if we go downstairs and open up all the cupboards and it’s just… Flies as far as the eye can see, all wrapped up for eating. There’s one in the fridge all done up on a platter like a Christmas ham. Cloves spiked into it and all.” 

Jon winces. “I’d really rather not picture that right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, course,” Martin says, looking slightly sheepish as they lapse into silence again. “Should probably go check though. Don’t exactly want to have gotten through all that just to starve. Though I’d happily let this be my death bed, honestly. Don’t think I’ve slept that well in… Ever.” 

“Mmh, now that you mention it, I’m quite peckish as well… Odd, that. Had almost forgotten what it felt like.” Jon heaves himself into a sitting position, and takes stock of the door to his left. “Probably the bathroom. Ensuite. Very nice.” 

“You want to get cleaned up before we go scavenging?” Martin asks, prying the duvet away like he’s pulling teeth. Jon feels bad that they can’t just stay in bed all day. He hadn’t been able to sleep, in the safe house, but Martin had chosen to dream. He might be biased, but Jon figures that that was probably worse. Martin seemed now to be relishing the opportunity to relax.

“I think we rather need it. Not keen to embarrass ourselves in front of our hosts a second time, so I’d rather not appear downstairs looking like something the cat dragged in.” Jon shoves the duvet away and gets, somewhat shakily, to his feet. Damn. No Beholding means the pain from- Where- The wound… His leg hurts. It means his leg hurts something fierce. He hopes he can stand in the shower. 

When he makes his way over to the door and swings it open, it turns out not to be a concern. The bathroom, in the fashion of the rest of the house, has no shower. Instead, a comically beautiful bathtub sits against the opposing wall. It’s a clawfoot, gold varnish painted over its feet where porcelain turns to antique wood. 

“You want to go first then?” Martin asks, slowly pulling the duvet around himself again. 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll go on ahead. You enjoy the extra time.” 

Martin gives him a smug look and burrows down again. God, Jon really, really loves him. Which is why, when he puts his hand on the door handle to close it behind him, he freezes. 

Statement readings aside, this will be the first time Martin has been out of his sight in… However you choose to categorize the indefinite amount of time they spent roaming the hellscape. And even then, Jon had his powers. If anything threatened Martin he’d be there to help him. To save him. The Eye offers no such comfort now. Jon doesn’t want to close the door. He doesn’t want Martin out of his line of sight. Not with Annabelle here. He won't leave him alone, not now. 

“... Jon? You okay?”

Jon realises he’s been standing in the doorway for at least a minute now, hand frozen in indecision. He blinks a few times, trying to bring his eyes back into focus. He opens his mouth, and finds himself gaping slightly, looking for the words. 

Martin shifts, sitting back up again. “Jon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

It comes out like a croak. “I- I don’t Know.”

Martin’s tone is gentle, placating, two hands gently offered out in Jon’s direction. “You don’t know what’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t Know,” he can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes and tries to push down the lump in his throat. He’s gone this long without crying, why does he have to go and do it now, ruin the peaceful moment that he’d watch Martin lapse into like a drowning man with air. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Martin hushes, sliding out of bed and walking round from his side. He brings his arms around Jon and just lets them stay there, not pulling him against his chest in a restrictive grasp, but just laying his hands against his back, letting him know he’s there. 

Despite his best attempts, Jon lets out a hiccup. “And- And that should be a good thing. It should. I don’t want to Know. But it’s… I’ve spent so long with this constant presence at the back of my skull and now it feels… It’s raw and it’s vulnerable. Annabelle Cane could be a wall away and I’m vulnerable and that means you are too. If I’m in another room, I can’t Know if something is wrong, and more importantly, if something does go wrong I can’t save you.”

The right wrapped around to hold Jon’s left hip, Martin’s free hand has been tracing soothing patterns into his back through his shirt. It stills when Jon finishes. He takes a moment, before breathing out heavily through his nose. He leans back slightly so he can look down and match eye levels. 

“Jon,” he says, and his voice is as soft as that duvet felt. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m so sorry. I thought being free of the Eye would be a good thing, I didn’t even consider how it would feel for you. I can’t promise nothing will go wrong, because… Well, our track record speaks for itself. But I can try and ease your fears.” He brushes Jon’s fringe out of the way, and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Tub seems pretty big. How do you feel about taking a bath together?” 

Jon feels his face, flushed from tears, pale. And oh what a relief, to feel a fear so comparatively… Mundane. To not be afraid of the cosmic monstrosity in the back of your brain, or the spiders with motives that scuttle across the ceiling, or the fact that you are responsible for the suffering of billions. Oh to be afraid of… Intimacy. 

Martin must feel him tense, because the hand on his back drops away, and the one at his hip loosens its grip. “I’m sorry, if that’s too much, we can just-”

“No,” Jon cuts him off, and is surprised at his own voice. “No, I… I would like that. That sounds nice.”

He knows it’s from his earlier anxieties, but Martin must still be able to feel Jon trembling slightly under his hand, because he continues to give Jon a sceptical look. 

“Forgive me for being blunt, but you really don’t seem up for that. If that’s not in your… Intimacy wheelhouse, I get it.” 

“I’m just a little shaken, is all,” Jon says, but he knows there’s a truth to Martin’s words. He knows Martin respects him and his orientation, they’d had long discussions about it in the safe house, about boundaries and desires and how Jon wanted to spend his days glued to Martin’s side but he under no circumstances wished to have sex with him. He knows that this isn’t what that is, that Martin means it in the most innocent fashion imaginable, but there’s still something about the idea of close, physical proximity while naked that makes the hairs on his arm stand on end and his stomach churn. 

It’s not that he was bashful about it. He’d seen Martin naked before, gotten changed in the same room most mornings and evenings in the safe house, but that was just a symptom of existing in the same space, never something actively done with the intent to exhibit. It had, predictably, stirred no feelings in him. The idea of them so close while not clothed… No, that wouldn’t be happening. 

“I- Can I make one request, though?” Jon asks, tilting his no longer watery eyes up to meet Martin’s. 

“Anything,” Martin replies, no hesitation to be found. 

Jon feels his face flush again, and the rapid pooling and draining of blood from his face must be doing terrible things to his circulation. “Can- Can we keep our underwear on? Please? God, sorry, that must sound horribly childish-” 

“No, no that’s okay. Whatever you need to feel comfortable,” Martin says and his voice is not so much laced with sincerity as built from bricks of it. 

They break apart and Martin ambles through the doorway and over to the bath, turning the water on. It sputters, clearly struggling after years of disuse, but after a few seconds it flows clear. Martin waits for the brackish residue to be cleaned away before popping the plug into place.

Jon preoccupies himself with looking over the shelves. They were well stocked, likely by Salesa, as Jon has a hard time believing that plastic bottles full of opalescent purple liquid were considered period appropriate set dressing. He pops the lid open on one and is met by a strong whiff of lavender. He tucks it under his arm before swiping a shampoo and matching conditioner. 

“Find something you like?” Martin asks, leaning against the edge of the tub. Jon hums a response before joining him. The tub was filling up quickly now, almost half way full and the water is pleasantly warm when he drags his fingers through it. Jon deposits two of the bottles where they can be grabbed when needed, before taking the lavender body wash and drawing swirls into the water until a layer of foam and bubbles begin to build on the surface. 

When Jon turns back to face Martin, his fingers are twitching at the hem of his t-shirt. Whoever was responsible for transferring them from cold marble floor to warm bed had also seen to it that their shoes were removed, as well as their bags and coats, which Jon had seen folded and placed over a chair in the corner of the bedroom. They were both down to their now ripped, muddied and bloodied trousers, and two v-neck t-shirts from the same set, Jon’s of which was tucked into his jeans to disguise the fact that it was several sizes too large. What possible conclusion could be drawn from that?

Martin cleared his throat. “Do you mind, then, if I…?”

“Yes, of course, go ahead.” 

Martin pulled his shirt over his head. 

It’s not that Jon didn’t find him attractive. He did, very much so, just in the romantic sense. So seeing Martin shirtless was similar to seeing him in a particularly flattering outfit. It didn’t change the way he felt about him, just intensified it. He was very handsome and Jon enjoyed getting to look at him. 

He pulls his own shirt over his head, before turning back to trail his hands through the water again, trying to gage the temperature and encourage more bubbles. When he turns back to face Martin again, he’s fiddling with his belt, eventually getting it undone and letting his trousers drop. Jon does the same. And then nothing more happens, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not that he hadn’t trusted Martin to keep his word and not fully strip on him, it was just.. It was a relief. 

“Shall we?” Martin asks, gesturing towards the water. 

“Let’s,” Jon responds, hooking one leg over the edge before stepping fully into the bath, and letting himself sink below the water. 

He’s just about acclimated when suddenly the water is rising slightly as Martin joins him, placing himself at the other end of the tub. There’s not enough room for his legs, so he ends up with his knees close to his chest, sticking out of the water. Jon’s just about fit, stretching down to the other end of the bath and bracketing each side of Martin’s hips. 

If the bed was heaven, this is absolutely blissful. The warm water surrounds his aching joints, slowly massaging them as it laps around him. The water, just seconds earlier clean and pure, is already starting to take on a stale quality as the dirt begins to slough off of the two of them, but Jon can’t bring himself to care for relief that it’s no longer coating his skin. He thinks the lavender may have been a bad choice, because between it and the warmth he’s finding it hard not to fall asleep again. 

“This okay?” Martin asks, because he’s still worried about Jon and his comfort and that makes his heart ache with affection, that someone would care that much about him and his boundaries. 

“Far more than okay,” he responds, dragging one hand down the other arm in an attempt to get some stubborn filth off. Martin is doing the same, except he’s wisely taken a sponge from somewhere and is scrubbing at a spot on his ankle where his trouser and boot hadn’t quite met and the Buried had decided to leave a crusted circle in its wake. 

They sit in silence for quite a while, each taking care of their own needs before Jon reaches one arm out of the bath to make a swipe at the bottle of shampoo. 

“Here, let me,” Martin says, breaking the quiet. He shifts forward slightly, on instinct, before pausing and rocking back slightly. “If you want, that is. Do you?” 

“Do I what?” 

“Do you want me to do your hair? It’s just- It’s probably easier, y’know, than you trying to do it yourself.” 

“And far more romantic,” Jon adds, smiling as he leans over to press a kiss to Martin’s freshly cleaned cheek. 

“That too. Do you want to turn around?” 

Jon answers wordlessly by shifting until he’s facing away from Martin. He’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so, when Martin’s arms wrap around him and gently pull him backwards until his back is just shy of flush with Martin’s chest. It’s very intimate. It’s very nice. 

“That okay?” Martin asks again, and more than ‘I love you’, that’s a phrase Jon will never grow tired of hearing because it means Martin truly cares for his comfort. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good,” Martin says, as he uncaps the shampoo and pours a small puddle of it into his hands. Even turned away, Jon can smell the wafts of artificial apple scenting in the stuff. 

When Martin starts to gently drag his fingers against Jon’s scalp, he can feel himself almost melt under the touch. His spine loses all tension and he lets himself fall back entirely against Martin’s chest, and it’s only the knowledge that he needs to keep still for Martin to actually do his job that stops him from turning and burrowing his face there. 

“I really hope that was a positive thing and you haven’t just fainted on me. Like, literally on me,” Martin says from behind him and this close, pressed up against him Jon can feel it reverberating in Martin’s chest. 

“Still conscious, don’t worry. That’s just… Very nice.” 

“Oh! Well… Good.” 

This continues for a few minutes, Martin slowly making his way from the scalp down to the roots of Jon’s hair, untangling it with his fingers and then repeating the process with the conditioner until his hair ran smooth under Martin’s hands. Even when Jon knows he’s long finished any actual hair care, Martin continues to run his fingers through the hair, just because. Jon loved him for it.

Eventually, both of Martin’s hands come to rest against Jon’s torso. “This okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t mind any of the touching, as long as it’s… Nowhere previously established to be out of bounds.” 

“Gotcha,” Martin says, pressing a kiss to Jon’s shoulder that makes his brain fizzle like fireworks. 

It takes Jon a minute to fully realise what Martin is doing. Two hands trace lines along his ribcage, one on each side, thumbs gently drawing and redrawing a pattern. His scars. 

Then, the hands travel upwards. Again, two lines along his chest, traced with as much tender care, and Jon’s brain has gone a little fuzzy. He’s unused to such casual touching. There is nothing hurried about it, no urgency, no purpose other than to make him feel good. To make him feel loved and cherished, and if he’s being honest, it’s working. No ulterior motive. This isn’t the lead up to anything. It just exists on it’s own as an experience he gets to have without worrying about what comes after, because he knows the answer is nothing. 

After, Martin shifts slightly, leaning forward. One hand cups Jon’s elbow, raising that arm out of the water as one by one, from shoulder to palm, Martin makes his way down pressing a soft kiss to each and every circular scar. He repeats the process with the other arm. As if to finish it off, he presses a slow, soft, close mouthed kiss to the line that stretches across the front of Jon’s neck.

He’s perfect. Martin Blackwood is perfect and Jon doesn’t know what he did to deserve… This. This quiet barrage of love, the consideration and care poured into it something Jon never thought he would be worthy of, let alone have become a reality.

Jon twists to lie sideways, pressed against Martin with his head tucked under Martin’s chin. Martin’s knees bracket his shoulders on either side and he feels safe. He is in the eye of the storm, a brief respite from the dreadful horrors that ravage the world outside their bubble, but with Martin Blackwood he is safe.

[ri-ahhh]

Okay, but with Grayson complaining about being lonely and wanting a girlfriend I CANT HELP but to think about how horny he probably is on top of that. Like- its been on my mind for days, so can you PLEASE write something about gray meeting a bitch, like through friend or something, and realizing he likes her and then having these dirty thoughts about her, and like he doesn't want to but he just cant help it... I will die and love you forever, you're writing is my absouloute favortie.

Ur so sweet babe haha thank you😊 hope this is along the lines of what you wanted.

Getting his dick wet has never been a problem for Grayson Dolan; not since receiving his first sloppy, inexperienced blowjob when he was on tour at the tender age of 16. There’s been a steady flow of girls in and out of his life ever since, fulfilling both his needs sexually and the fleeting desire for noncommittal intimacy. And that’s how he likes it for the longest time. Easy and no-strings-attached.

But he’s older now, and even though quarantine hadn’t stopped him from hitting up his favorite one or two booty calls every now and then, he feels empty in a way that’s becoming all-too familiar. It’s not a new feeling, but every time he leaves their homes (because that’s his number one rule — hookups stay out of his bed), there’s a longing that wasn’t satisfied and that’s becoming more and more apparent to him.

So he stops fucking around — literally. He believes in the power of the mind and manifestation almost to a fault, and considers that maybe he’s letting casual hookups interfere with what he really wants: companionship.

It seems like a breeze at first. Grayson swears he feels lighter, clearer in the head, more focused on what he wants out of his life. He puts his mind to being the best version of himself and hoping that it’s enough to attract the same kind of person that he can put all of his love and effort into in return.

As months roll on, however, he realizes that sometimes the universe just doesn’t listen right away. And for the first time in his life, Grayson discovers the monotony and reality of what it’s like for the ‘regular’ guys out there, whose only sexual pleasure comes from their own hand and the porn category of choice for the night. He was used to that as a filler, for sure, but not as his one and only outlet.

Plain and simple, he’s horny. All the time. Which makes him grumpy, and irritable, and frustrated with both himself and everything around him. So when Ethan tells him in passing that his girlfriend is flying in from New York with her friend to visit, it just makes him grunt. The fact that his brother is in such a happy and healthy relationship himself is a point of contention for Grayson in his head. He’s thrilled for Ethan, but he can’t help but dwell on the creeping jealousy in his chest. Here he is, starved for both intimacy and sex now, and Ethan will get served both of those the following night in excess while Grayson lies in his bed alone.

The next night, they’re all having dinner at the kitchen table — all four of them, including her. The friend. The friend that Ethan had mentioned would be coming but that Grayson had so brusquely ignored. The friend that had his eyebrows raised the second she walked shyly through his front door, drawn in immediately by her beauty.

The friend he can’t keep his eyes off of now as she goes to town on the roasted sweet potatoes and black bean burgers he had made himself. She’s quiet but witty and has a cute laugh that makes his heart flutter a little in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time.

He feels a nudge against his ribs, and startles when he jerks to the side to see Ethan staring at him pointedly with a knowing little smile on his lips.

“You’ve got ketchup on your shirt, bro,” he says, nodding to the blob of red on Grayson’s white shirt that had dropped from the forkful of sweet potatoes, which had only made it halfway to his mouth as he listened to her talk.

“Shit,” he mumbles embarrassedly, flushing a color near the tomato-red that’s now stained his shirt. Of course, the first time he’s feeling real feelings around a beautiful girl, he has to revert to awkward, clumsy Grayson rather smooth, relaxed Grayson.

He starts to scrub up the mess with his napkin, but she reaches out from her seat across the table from him and grabs his wrist in her petite hand. “Oop, wait! Dab, don’t swipe, or you’ll make it worse. I know how to get that out as long as it’s not smeared around into the fabric.”

Grayson swallows, his arm flaring with goosebumps at her gentle but insistent touch, but tries to keep his cool. She’s grinning at him amusedly, then sits back in her seat when Grayson follows her instructions.

“I thought ketchup was one of those things that you’re just kinda fucked if you get it on your clothes, Ethan says, filling the silence left by his brother.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Peroxide will get it right out, especially if you wash it after. Do you have any?”

Ethan cocks a brow and looks at Grayson, hoping he’ll use the opportunity to speak to her. Thankfully, he does, even if it is lacking a little bit of gracefulness. “Huh, peroxide? Oh... uh, yeah, I — yeah, in my bathroom.”

“I’ll help you when we’re all done, if you want,” she offers before taking a modest bite of her burger.

Grayson nods, and can’t help but watch the way she sucks a bit of barbecue sauce off her thumb once she swallows. His heart picks up and he has to shift in his seat a little when she winks at him, his pants tightening under the table. Damn it. He’s been trying to avoid that reaction and those thoughts, determined to do this right.

He fixes a smile to his lips, and hopes his face isn’t giving him away. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Everyone helps clean up the table and dishes, and Grayson leads her into his room while they leave the other two to have some alone time. He prays that he made his bed that morning and that there’s no dirty underwear on the floor or used tissues on the nightstand.

Luckily, the floor is relatively clear, and the bed is made, if haphazardly so. She follows him into the en-suite bathroom and watches him dig under the cabinet in the first aid bucket he has down there.

She’s wearing jean shorts and a loose-knit sweater, and when Grayson starts to stand back up he takes a moment to appreciate the tone in the muscles of her legs and the flashes of skin he can see through her top, hoping he isn’t being too obvious.

She takes the brown bottle from him and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “It’ll be easier if you take this off.”

Grayson nods, and can’t help the laugh that escapes him when she turns her back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you your modesty! I don’t know you, for all I know you might be super insecure.”

“At the risk of sounding like a total douche, I promise I’m not,” he answers, reaching behind his neck to tug the collar up and over his head. “Here you go.”

She turns back around, and Grayson doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel over his sculpted torso. He can’t help but smirk a little, thrilled at the cute blush that tinges her cheeks when she meets his eyes and realizes she’s been caught.

He hasn’t had a woman look at him like that in months, however, and he’s grateful when she tells him, “This will need to go in the laundry tonight if you want to make sure the stain comes out, so you’ll need another shirt anyways.”

It gives him an out to duck into his closet, taking a moment to collect himself before grabbing the first T-shirt his hand touches and slipping it over his head.

“Cold water first,” she informs, smiling at him through the mirror when he re-emerges as she leans over the sink with the water running. She shuts off the water and squeeze out the excess, then takes the peroxide and pours some onto the stain.

“Woah,” Grayson says, eyebrows raised in surprise at the fizzing bubbles visibly picking up the bright red from the fibers of his shirt. “Where did you learn this trick?”

“I work in the toddler room at a daycare. We keep this stuff on sight and scene to avoid 20 outfit changes a day on a few two year-olds. I’m sure you can imagine the amount of ketchup and blood stains a toddler procures on the daily.”

Grayson chuckles. He feels himself growing more fond of her by the second. “You like kids?”

“I love them,” she replies with a grin. “Working in childcare is pretty rough, but it’s been a great college job. Lots of experience for my degree. And, you know, good practice for the future one day.”

If he hadn’t been sold by now, that does it. Beautiful, smart, and good with kids?

He takes a moment to assess himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t think he’s letting his dick lead him right now, even if he does want her that way. He’s just as attracted to her mind as he is the curves of her body and the features of her pretty face, and finds himself wanting to talk to her for hours on end.

He doesn’t realize there’s a heated silence, both of them standing there staring at each other, until she clears her throat and holds up his shirt. Grayson glances down at it to see just a faint brown rim around what use to be a bright red mark. “All done.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking it from her and tossing it in his laundry basket. “Come on, hopefully we don’t walk into something we can’t unsee.”

“You make a pretty good meat shield,” she says jokingly, following close behind him. “All big and broad. I can just hide behind you and keep my eyes unscarred.”

Grayson laughs loudly, his ego swelling, and he has to resist the urge to take her hand in his. That would be too much. Right?

Thankfully, the couple is just cuddling innocently on the loveseat when they enter the living room.

“Movie?” Ethan asks when the two of them settle on the couch, a respectful and calculated distance between them — not too close and not too far.

“Sure.”

They’re all in a fun and lighthearted mood tonight, so they settle on Moana. Grayson wants nothing more than to throw his arm around the beautiful girl next to him, who sings along playfully to the songs she knows, her enthusiastic movements shuffling her closer to him. He doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he doesn’t really care; her presence in both body and spirit feels good to him.

Ethan’s girlfriend only makes it about halfway through the movie before she’s passed out, tired from the long flight earlier that day. He looks down at her fondly and chuckles when he sees her nuzzled sound asleep against his chest.

“I’m gonna take her to bed,” he announces quietly before standing with her in his arms. “Goodnight, guys.”

They both murmur back “goodnight” and watch Ethan disappear down the hall. The movie plays on for a couple of minutes, before she’s turning to him and making small talk. Which turns into broader conversation about bigger things. Which leads to them settling so close that their knees touch. She finds an excuse to pick an invisible fleck of something off his hand, which turns into their fingers playing with each other’s teasingly.

Which turns to Grayson checking his watch in a quiet but not unpleasant lull, and muttering, “Oh, shit,” in surprise.

She checks her phone lying on the couch cushion behind her. The time shines back at her 1:27 AM.

“Damn, when did it get so late?” she wonders aloud, looking at him amusedly.

Grayson shakes his head. “Time flies,” he says. Whether it’s the late hour, or him getting his mojo back, or just the fact that he’s so naturally comfortable with her, he suddenly feels bold enough to reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you tired?”

She blushes and bites her lip, allowing him to keep his warm palm pressed to her neck while his thumb strokes the ridge of her jaw gently.

“Not really,” she answers, scooting that much closer to him. “Not ready to go to my bed, anyways.”

She’s referring to the guest room she’s already settled her things into. Grayson smiles. Rules be damned, he thinks, until he realizes in the next moment that there’s no way this amazing girl is going to be just a hookup. There’s no rule to be broken.

“Why don’t you come to mine, then?”

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Someone Saved My Life

(Jack x Rin Davies, Pt 1)

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: nothing just intimacy, implied sex and a bit of angst thrown in for funsies

A/N: Jack takes Rin to the Yorkshire Moors for their first holiday together. After all they've been through together, they could use the time away. And yet their first night ends with the arrival of an unwanted guest. ((Totally didn't plan on writing anything let alone another story for the two of them. Was going to try to work on an Ivan story, but I tossed around this idea for months now, and it just felt right? Self indulgence is my new name when it comes to writing!))

Things weren't always perfect between Jack and Rin. Jack had days where he slipped back into isolation. The sadness would swell and he wouldn't sleep. Rin knew those were the times he was surrounded. Overwhelmed. And while he mostly ignored the dead, she could feel when they simply refused to ignore him.

They would come in droves and scatter about any room Jack was in. Crammed together like sardines in a can all shouting for messages to be passed to the living. Sometimes Rin would give him a wide berth, the death and decay crawled along her own skin. She would dress with every inch of her skin covered and attempt to sleep alone while Jack banished himself to the sofa. Those nights resulted in him exploding with anger and shouts of desperation to be left alone.

The guilt would wash over Rin. They're a couple, she would remember. Partners. Not just lovers and friends. You take the worst of one another as your own, and she could ACTUALLY do that for Jack. Letting him be was not a choice anymore, no matter what he believed.

Rin would go and gently talk Jack down into her lap. His thick mass of waves and curls against her bare thighs would be sweaty. He would curl on his side with a hand under legs instead of his cheek. His other by his mouth so he could anxiously chew on the already devastated thumb nail. She knew his eyes would be jammed shut.

Rin would brush the curls off Jack’s forehead with fingertips. Fingers that traced delicate and light patterns over his temples and cheeks where they wiped away tears as she hummed. Her thumb soft along his lips before they ran back up where she would press her index, middle, and ring finger into his temple. Then she would sing and fill his head with warmth and love to bring the light instead of death.

“Someone saved my life tonight..” And Rin would look up and around at them all. Her voice came out soft and full of affection. She would narrow her eyes in their direction. Silently chastising them all the while comforting Jack.

His body relaxed as she continued, “You almost had your hooks in me. Didn't you dear. You nearly had me roped and tied. Altar bound, hypnotized, sweet freedom, whispered in my ear. You're a butterfly, and butterflies are free to fly. Fly away..” Her hand would sweep in a wild gesture along the lot of them. He would be asleep, and she would be alone with the shock of the departed that they had another to see them.

As long as Rin connected with Jack he wasn't alone in his ability. They discovered that with Finch. Jack was the conjurer; Rin the conduit. A hundred years ago they would have been rich in the spiritualism movement. Now they were labeled mental and mad and stuffed full of chemicals, their gifts silenced.

Never again for either of them, Rin would hold back the dead so her love could sleep and get peace. When she interfered the protection emanated from her. They would stop shouting, stop begging, just.. stop. Rin would flick her hand like she was casting a powerful spell, her eyes set in determination. Then they would be gone.

Then there were times like this. When Jack closed up his shop with a sign that said “I'm on Holidays. Dunno when, I'm almost thirty and this is my first one.” He put himself and Rin on a train up to Yorkshire where they hailed a cab to what was theirs for the next month.

Rin gazed in delight at the two story stone cottage. It was covered in ivy and moss with a carved stone fence and a picket gate. There was a little English rose garden off to the side of the house, and wildflowers simply everywhere else. In the hills beyond stood grazing cattle and a pond. Behind the hills of Yorkshire.

“Oh, Jack,” it was just a breath that managed to escape her.

“D’you reckon it's alright?” he scratched his shaggy head. There was worry in his green eyes as he glanced towards his partner for approval.

Rin’s eyes met Jack’s, and she slipped her ungloved hand inside of his. Their palms together, she squeezed. “This is stunning,” she hoped to reassure him. Her gratitude and pleasure flowed from her body to his through her touch.

Jack had just bent to kiss Rin when someone interrupted them and cleared their throat. A feminine voice shouted, “Yoo hoo! Hello!”

The couple turned to see a stout, round faced cheerful old woman in the garden. She wore a wide brim straw hat, an old dress and an apron. Rin was reminded of a human Mrs. Potts as the elder smiled wide.

“Aren't you a delight!” she beamed. Making her way to the gate she stopped. “I'm Mrs. Barrow. My husband, Henry is round back in the barn. Oh it's been AGES since we've had newlyweds.”

Jack's cheeks pinked, but Rin giggled. “No. We're not married.”

“Oh, sinful little doves.” The old woman winked. “By the looks of him, I can see why.” She fanned herself dramatically and Jack now turned red. He scratched at his head even harder whilst his eyebrows disappeared in his hair.

“This is Jack, and I'm Wren. But you can call me Rin! Are you the caretakers? Is this your house? We're on our first holiday together.” The words tumbled out of the young woman before she could stop herself.

“Oh no, little Wren. Henry and I..” Rin had let go of Jack's hand to shake Mrs. Barrow’s. The moment she let go, the old woman disappeared. Rin gasped and turned to her boyfriend.

“She was telling us she and her husband did live here. Died from the Spanish flu a hundred years ago.” Jack gave a little shrug, but a tiny grin had crept into the corners of his mouth. “They love it here so much, neither moved on.”

Rin reached for him, and his hand covered hers. The old woman reappeared. “Sorry, Missus. I didn't know?”

She laughed heartily in response, “Sometimes Henry and I forget we're dead. Never had someone who could see us before. Let alone a couple. The moors are full of ghosts, mostly long gone. None of us here for a bother, especially since your beau here looks exhausted. Just popped in for a bit of cheek and a greeting. If you need us, give a shout ok?” Then she was gone.

“Why can't they all be like that?!” Jack almost shouted his question.

“Maybe we should move up here where they've had time to get used to it? The ones in Manchester are all.. fresh and selfish and confused.”

Rin pulled Jack towards her for a kiss. His tongue teased her for the briefest moment before he picked her up and carried her in his arms towards the cottage.

“What are you doing?!” she squealed.

“Dunno. Little biddie thought we’re married,” he leaned in to kiss her a few more times. He waggled his eyebrows, “Might as well act like it.”

“Jack, we just got here!”

“I've been ready since we woke up. We’ll have a shag then go out to the pub for a few pints and some fish n chips.”

“Romantic,” Rin rolled her eyes as Jack opened the door around her.

“Oh, you love me!” Jack set her down in the foyer then playfully slapped his girlfriend on the ass.

Rin jumped and bolted up the stairs before he could catch her. “I do!” she called down to him. “What's that vow? Till death do us part?” She started to strip her clothes off to her bra and panties. Her finger made a come here motion before she disappeared around a corner.

Jack's face fell, but only for the swiftest of moments. “Even then you wouldn't be gone.”

------

Rin snuck out of the bed as she so often did after they had sex. Mostly because it was the soundest Jack ever slept with his long limbs stretched out as if she wasn’t there. Or he would envelop her in his arms without a choice. And even though she understood Jack's desire to be with her constantly, sometimes Rin felt smothered.

Now she stood at the foot of the bed to watch Jack's breathing as his sternum rose and fell with a steady rhythm. He laid on his back, arm above his head in a languid position. The sheets barely draped across his hips to reveal the V shape of his pelvis and just a tuft of pubic hair. Rin’s eyes kept going until she felt her heart between her thighs and not in her chest.

“Go take a bath,” her brain scolded her. “Wash off the train and sex before you go out for dinner. You stand here any longer, you'll wake him up by straddling him.”

Rin’s body wavered. I mean, that was an idea. “BATH, ADERYN DAVIES!” At least her inner monologue didn't use her middle name.

Rin closed the door and turned on the hot water. She was lost in thought as it filled. How she and Jack developed a willingness to share their bodies with one another in the light. That she relished how their chests and mouths and skin dissipated into reciprocated emotions. Jack was addicted to it the way she could absorb him and switch places with him. Show him what it was like to be her. Empathy became his heroin.

Rin climbed into the tub and settled against the porcelain. She relaxed her mind and body until only her breasts remained afloat. She never took a bath. Not since her time in hospital when she and Jack met. Where the dead tried to drown them. But she and Jack saved each other.

Maybe because they were nearing the three year anniversary of that awful time, but Rin thought about it more these days. She held her hands above the water and ran her scarred fingers over the further damage she had done to herself. The long jagged line from her wrist to forearm. Usually she wasn't quite THAT bad off when she tried to commit suicide, and even now she couldn't remember what was her trigger that day.

“There's not even a word to describe how bloody melancholy suicides are when they come ‘round,” Jack would say. “Maybe desolate?”

“Did you ever try?”

“Not that I remember. Didn't wanna upset Emma. Always seems so messy. Guess maybe I was doing it slowly though, the way I lived. We're ok now, right?” he would ask and kiss her hand.

“We're diamonds, Jack,” she would respond, "Unbreakable.”

Now Rin knew he was in the doorway. It was hard to sneak up on her if you gave off too much emotion. Currently Jack was as warm and comforting as the water she floated about in.

“You alright?” his sleepy voice carried a trace of concern.

Rin looked up and back at him, her fingers still on her scar. “Yeah! Just thinking about us. This.”

The air shifted. A wicked grin played across Jack's face as he walked around the side of the tub. His naked body in full view. Rin’s face flushed and her heart raced, but she kept her composure on the surface as he stepped in to join her. His hands on her waist drew her into his lap. She threw her arms around his neck as they held onto each other tightly. Jack pressed his lips to Rin’s neck where he kissed a trail down over the curve of her shoulder.

“Jaacckk,” she whinged. “Come on I was sat here having a think, and you’re like a teenage boy with this!” She tried to hide a moan when he bent her back to capture her breast in his mouth. “Bless,” was her response.

“I can't help it!” he teased from between them. “I have so much lost time, and you’re so bloody sexy.”

“Will you put that thing away!” Rin’s voice was louder, but still had laughter in it. “C’mon Jack. This should be sweet and romantic. Somehow you always turn it into a porno.”

“I can't help that my,” Jack pointed his finger towards the water and whistled, “likes you. Loves you? Always wants to be in you.”

“Cock, Jack. It's called a cock. Shouldn't it be used to me by now? It's been almost a year.”

Jack stopped teasing Rin. He looked at her seriously now. Those green eyes seemed to search her soul as they moved back and forth over her face. “One year?”

“Yes.”

“I can't believe I had forgotten you all the time between..” his voice trailed off.

“It's ok,” Rin spoke softly.

Jack turned his bottom lip out, “Now I'm sad. So we should shag in this bathtub, then I won't be!”

Rin groaned for a long time after that. “No!! Sex in hot tubs or bath tubs or pools isnt the best. Water is a shite lubricant, trust.”

Jack pushed her away and feigned disgust. “Have you shagged in them before?”

“Once or twice.”

“With Roland?”

“What?! No! I told you we only had sex once. Then he left LITERALLY the next day. Why are you so weirdly jealous of him? It wasn't my first time. I've been with loads of men.”

Rin sat back again on her side of the tub. She reached for the body wash on a shelf, and started to use it on her arms and chest. Her eyebrow arched as if she was trying to challenge Jack to get angry at her sexual history.

Jack pulled his knees to his chest. “Are you hoping I get pissed that you've had sex with other guys? Of course you have, you're beautiful. Roland is just so.. Roland.”

“Fair play, but he has a gift like we do.”

“Ghosts and music. Worst super powers ever,” he mused.

Rin opened her arms and motioned Jack to settle in between them and her legs. He turned and laid down with his back completely pressed into her. She kissed his cheek then gestured for him to tilt his head back with her finger under his chin. Jack obeyed with his eyes closed.

Rin cupped water in her hand and poured it over his hair. She repeated the process a few times before he sunk down under the water. She marveled at how long his hair was when wet or straightened. At how long his arms and legs and torso were as he held on to her own knees that were drawn up around him. At how far he had come from the man drawn into himself high, on psych meds, with dirty fingernails and rough cheeks. Now he was open and present and relaxed in her arms.

“Birdie,” Jack started calling her that out of a desire to give her some kind of nickname. Love and darling and babe weren't enough.

“Jackie?” only Rin got away with that. She put some shampoo in her hand and lathered them together in front of their bodies before she dove into his hair.

“You're making me sad thinking about how poor I was when we met. You know, passing it from yourself to me without meaning.”

“What?” she was concentrating on massaging Jack's entire head. Her light fingers made circles and gentle scratches. Then they widened and she drew bigger circles. She didn't want to leave out one inch of his scalp.

“You're body, it's pressed to mine? You're passing along your thoughts without noticing because we're relaxed. But also, please keep doing that. Holy shit that feels nice.”

Rin kept on. She alternated from soft to a little harder to as much pressure as Jack allowed. He gripped her calf and ankles now wrapped around his waist. She used her thumbs to stroke his temples and rub across his forehead before going back to knead the rest of his head again.

Her attention back to reality instead of just on making sure Jack was cared for, she realized what had happened. “I'm sorry! Sorry. I can block it if you want?” She separated her body from his and unwound her legs. Jack held on.

“It's fine,” he reassured her. “Just let me mind your body too?”

Rin snickered, “You minded my body for about an hour already.”

Jack gave an annoyed smirk and rolled his eyes. “I mean like this!” he gestured towards her washing his hair.

“You can wash my hair. That would be lovely.”

“Why don't I..” he stroked his chin. Jack's eyes settled on the stuff she had spread out on the sink. “Shave your legs?”

“Blimey,” Rin whispered. “Really?” Her heart took to pounding in her ears. She eased him down into the water to rinse everything from him clean. “Jack that's very..”

“Intimate?” he was already standing to carefully choose what was her razor and shaving cream. He held them in her direction for approval.

“Actually, yes.” Rin nodded, “And yes. This is really different from shaving your face, y’know. I've got to trust you completely because that is a new blade, and I always nick a damn patch of skin.”

Jack sat back down in the water, placed the razor on the edge of the tub and lifted Rin’s ankle. He pinioned her foot to his chest and bit his entire bottom lip. She felt exposed, made vulnerable by this position. He was looking at the half of her naked body just below the water’s surface. The can of gel faltered as he shook it.

“Jack! You're shaving my legs, not my twat. Eyes on what you're doing!” Rin snapped her finger to catch his attention.

“I can do-”

“Keep speaking, and no sex for two days.”

Jack frowned but sprayed the soap on her shin. He spread it around from the ankle up to her knee before trying to go higher. Rin held up her hand, “Only strippers and sex workers shave that high!”

He snorted and continued on the back of her leg and made sure to get the back of her knee. She was especially ticklish there and jerked her body and giggled as a result. They both could be in trouble: Jack with a sharp object; Rin with the ability to kick him in the sternum if he wasn't careful.

“Better luck if you're facing away from me. You have to shave with the blades towards my knee. You best sit back against me like before.”

“Or,” Jack held the razor backwards with the head towards his wrist. His thumb on the grooved grip as he placed it delicately by Rin’s ankle. The handle was awkward in his large fingers as he took it gingerly and with the utmost of care upward. The blade made a path in the cream as he moved it up to her knee.

Rin inhaled as he did the same gesture again. She exhaled when the razor met her kneecap. Steady breathing with each swipe along her leg. The tip of Jack's tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated. He worked and focused and shifted her calf just enough to get the sides and the back. The only sound in the bathroom was the splish of water when he cleaned the blade after each path.

“Oh,” was all that left Rin’s mouth the entire time. Her eyes never left Jack's face while his own refused to break away from her leg.

“You alright?” Jack finally looked up at Rin just as he was getting a start on her other leg.

Rin shook her head with enthusiasm. Now her turn to bite her bottom lip before a giant smile crawled from ear to ear. “I'm grand! I love you.”

And just like he always did when she said that, Jack looked sheepish. Like he still couldn't believe that any.one would love him let alone a whole family of them. Rin. Emma. Billy. Jerry. They all loved him without condition.

“I love you too,” Jack smiled in kind. It reached his eyes in wrinkled skin in the corners of them. He made his way around his girlfriend’s other leg and realized something had grown inside of him. He was starting to care for himself.

So this is it, Jack thought as he finished shaving Rin’s legs, I think I love myself?

Before he could say anything the doorbell rang downstairs and scared the shit out of them both. They scrambled to their feet and started to dry off in a harried way. In the bedroom, they threw on clothes as the bell rang out again with more insistence.

“Can ghosts ring?”

“No! Not usually. BLOODY HELL WE’RE COMING!” Jack shouted as he rushed down the steps. He turned the light on in the foyer and opened the door. Rin couldn't make out anything but Jack’s shocked voice. “What the fuck are you doing here? You're two weeks early, mate.”

“She.. I should've.. Wren.. I lost my..” the words were broken up by Jack's body.

Rin made her way down and peered around Jack's shoulder. A tired, swollen eyed man stood on the front stoop. His hair was a curly mess; his goatee and mustache looked like a positive fright. She could tell he hadn't been sleeping much. It was the first time Rin had seen him alone in the last year. It was the first time Rin had seen him in PERSON in maybe seven in spite of all his promises.

“ROLAND?!”

Both he and Jack turned towards Rin and shouted simultaneously, “Surprise!”

tag @robertsheehanownsmyass @magic-multicolored-miracle @slutforrobbiebro @forenschik @super-unpredictable98 @bisexualnathanyoung @nightmonsters @rob-private @badsext @bwritesstuff @frogs--are--bitches

[orionsangel86]

A cool breeze drifts in through the open window bringing with it the smell of the ocean. Morning light pours past the white sheer drapes that dance with the flow of the wind.

A strong arm pulls tightly against Dean’s waist, squeezing him in a warm embrace that makes him smile. Dean wriggles back against the firm body behind him and sighs as a hand caresses his chest. Hot breath on the back of his neck becomes soft lips and Dean wonders for a moment if he is in heaven.

He rolls over and greets sleepy blue eyes with a grin. Reaches up to run his fingers through soft brown hair still ruffled from last nights exploits. That  handsome face stares at him with so much love, and Dean’s heart still aches just knowing that he is able to have this. Castiel, his angel, now human through choice, pulls Dean close and closes the gap in a kiss that quickly gets heated.

“Morning Sunshine.” Dean mumbles between kisses.

Castiel answers him with another kiss, this time pulling him closer by the hips making Dean painfully aware of his morning wood. Dean huffs and gives him a reciprocating thrust.

Every morning has been this way since they arrived here, and Dean has never felt happier in all his life. After everything they went through, life, death, heaven, hell and even the vast void beyond it all, to have Cas like this, to be together, here, with a rolling coastline of white sand a short walk from their beachside house. Its more than Dean could ever have dreamed of.

It pains him to pull away, but today is important, and they can’t get too distracted. He puts a hand against Castiel’s chest and gets a grumble for his efforts.

“You know what today is right?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow.

“Of course.” His gravelly voice never fails to make Dean’s heart flutter, and Castiel takes advantage of that by moving forward and painting light kisses on his jaw. Dean sighs and attempts to stay strong, once again pushing firmly against his lover’s chest.

“We don’t have time.” He groans. “They’ll be here in an hour.”

Castiel huffs and moves away to lie on his back, swinging an arm across his face. It is such a human gesture that Dean pauses to watch in awe, still unused to this version of Castiel, but hopelessly in love with him all the same.

He shuffles forward and kisses Cas’s cheek.

“They’ll be plenty of time for us to be together later.” Pausing to gently bite his ear. “I can’t wait for you to do that thing with your tongue again.” He whispers seductively and feels more than sees the former angel smirk.

Dean loves this. He loves the lazy morning pillow talk. He loves the intimacy. He loves having Cas within reach, just being able to touch him with absolute permission whenever he wants. He especially loves how much Cas seems to love it all right back.

Sam and Eileen will arrive in an hour. It’s been a year since they last saw them. A year since he last held his little brother and tried to hold back tears knowing that everything he was used to was about to change. A year since they defeated one God, and put another God on Heaven’s throne. (Dean tries not to think too hard about how that new God is his adopted son). Sam has been travelling all over the world, gathering magical artefacts, securing old Men of Letters bunkers, collecting more lore books, and thoroughly enjoying every nerdy second of it as far as Dean can tell. It doesn’t help that Sam has a gorgeous, badass hunter and fellow MOL legacy on his arm. Dean can’t wait to see them again.

Cas sighs, whips back the bedsheets and stretches. His back muscles flex and Dean watches as he rises to stand, completely naked, smooth tan skin on display for Dean’s hungry eyes as always. He walks over to the window and for a moment appears to glow in the morning light. This happens every now and then, moments where Cas seems far more ethereal than his human form should allow. Moments when Dean is reminded of the immense power and magnitude that the man standing before him used to contain. Where he is reminded that Cas gave it all up to be with him.

Cas has constantly repeated over the past year that he doesn’t regret it. Dean was always going to be his choice. That even in his darkest moments he would never allow himself to believe that he might one day get to have Dean too. That a creature such as Cas, after everything he had done, could be granted his most secret and most desperate desires. Dean blushes just thinking about some of the things Cas has whispered to him at night, whilst curled together in bed. The past year may not yet have made up for all the long years of distant longing and desire that they each repressed, but damn have they tried.

Cas turns in all his naked glory and flashes Dean a toothy smile. Clearly the goofy look on Dean’s face amuses him, and Dean fakes a pout and throws a pillow in his direction.

“Stop showing off and take a shower already. I wanna have breakfast ready when they get here and you are a huge distraction.”  

Cas doesn’t stop grinning, but that striking gaze of his pierces into Dean’s eyes and Dean feels his heartrate increasing once again.

“I think, it would be much more productive if we showered together.” Cas suggests darkly, voice a deep rumble.

Dean sucks in a breath and glances at the clock.

“I uh- suppose that’ll work.” He feels a shiver run through him as he looks up at Cas’s triumphant smile and rises to stand in front of his angel. “I love you so god damn much.”

Cas pulls him in for another kiss, deep and full of love. When they finally break apart again to catch their breath, Cas rests their foreheads together and they pause to relish in the intimacy of the moment.

“I love you too Dean.” He whispers. “With all my heart and all my soul.”

Dean takes in a shuddered breath, soaking in those words which he will never tire of. This is going to be a great day.

This is going to be a great life.

[txemrn]

How do you approach writing intense sexual scenes? Do you write from experience or what you've seen? I want to try to write things, but I'm afraid what I write will come across as awkward and cringe-y. 🤦‍♀️

Hey, anon! Thank you so much for the ask!

Believe me when I say that you and I are in the same boat! I get fairly anxious when it comes to writing smut for the exact same reasons you have: you want it to flow; you want hearts in your eyes while your fanning yourself, waiting for round 2. I have several smut scenes to write in some upcoming fics, and I can feel the excitement... and dread because I need fireworks, not a forest fire.

You don't want a trainwreck, something that literally makes you feel violated, wanting to scrub your skin afterwards. But, when you develop the perfect scene for your characters, it is soooooo delicious and beautiful. 🥰

I'm NOT the expert, but here's what I do... 🍋🍋🍋

First things first: ask yourself, "Does this fic/chapter even need an intimate scene?" I have mapped out fics before, where I think, "Oh yeah, let's get it on in this chapter!" And when it comes time to write, my characters want to tell a different story. Or, I realize it distracts from the purpose of the chapter.

Something to also consider that I think is just as powerful as having sex is what I call my "foreplay writing": just like it sounds-- the characters sexually teasing one another verbally and physically in a way that will probably lead to intimacy; I usually have a character say 1 or 2 moment-defining lines; then I end the scene delicately, leaving it to the reader's imagination.

One of my favorite characters to do this for is Liam from TRR. Here's a little excerpt of what I'm talking about:

This is the first chapter of my series called "Pour Two Glasses". In this particular chapter, Liam has a limited time with his wife before he goes back delegating peace treaties. The whole chapter has been this delicious love (and sexual) tension between them, feeling their connection as husband and wife. And... THEY FINALLY CAN HAVE A MOMENT ALONE, and they are stumbling over each other like teenagers, making out. They finally make it to their room, and Liam can't take it anymore. He passionately pushes his wife against the wall. She suggests that they have a bedroom. And he responds with this:

“We have walls,” he gruffly whispers, snapping his teeth just above her pulse point. “Now, open your legs.”

Anyway, the point of the story, though wasn't the sex. It was their connection, and I felt like if I added a smutty scene (which, I originally wanted to do), it might distract from the impact of what was about to happen.

Sorry, I need a minute now.... 🤣🤣🤣

Moving on...

Second, RESEARCH!

-READ! READ! READ! There is so much smut right here on tumblr. Pick out your favorite series for fanfiction, then look for the lemons! You'll get a good taste (pun not intended) of how to create it, how to build it up and fluff it up. How to make it loving, how to make it intense. Even the most intense of BDSM scenes can be lovely.

-Also, consider smutty books and harlequin novels. Yes, I'm talking "50 Shades..." Go to that section in Wal-Mart and pick out a few. Read and take note! For example, I have a desire to write a BDSM piece after hearing a song. Because I want to do it justice, I just ordered a book with some hardcore BDSM online to do some research.

-Don't be afraid: search the net! I have actually google searched "writing smut for beginners" and there are SO MANY blog sites that will teach you a TON. There are even sites that will tell you words that are generally accepted by audiences and words that generally make people cringe.

-Turn to trustworthy and helpful writing friends for 2 reasons!

Not the ones that simply say, "Oooo, that's hot," (even though we LOVE them, too), but the ones that will make your smut well-rounded and stellar! For example, I was writing a blurb about oral sex last week, and I turned to one of my peeps. She was encouraging and told me I was on the right track, told me what she loves, and then offered thoughts and sensations that could make my writing blossom.

EXPERIENCE. We all have different perspectives when it comes to intimacy. Now, I know, you can't talk about it with just anyone. But surely there is SOMEONE you can chat sex with, maybe even a best friend that is clueless about fanfiction! The purpose of this is to expand your knowledge of what people enjoy. What you personal enjoy might not be what someone else enjoys and they can offer intel as to why.

-Finally, and this might sound crazy, create a word/phrase bank. You know when you're reading some smut, and you read something that just... takes your breath away? Jot. It. Down. I actually have a word/phrase bank, and I abuse it. The bank includes words related to body parts, smells, sensations, tastes... but it's tailored to what I'm willing to personally write. There are certain words I personally cannot write seriously, and so I vow not to. But anytime I can think of a clever and beautiful way to say something, I add it to the bank.

I hope this has inspired you in some way. I know you kept yourself anonymous; BUT if you ever need some help, I am always here to brainstorm ideas. You've got this--writing smut is just like jumping into the deep end of the pool; YOU CAN DO IT, and it's going to be so THRILLING when you do. Good luck to you! 💜💜💜