#there are still quite a few blank spots I need to fill in hmm

[temtamtom]

is... is there a link to the playlist 👀

It’s still a work in progress but here you go <3 I always try organising my AU/Character playlists to tell a certain “story” or represent various moments in a character’s life, so the playlist is bound to change up over time!

I don’t feel like I have the most unique tastes in music but hopefully this gives y’all a glimpse into how I imagine my Feli (some songs may seem OOC as a result)

[sweetlittleneptune]

Paint me your love

Pairing: Vincent and Reader

Word count: 1595

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

⚠️little warning before we start! This is the first fanfic I've written in a WHILE, it'll only get better the more I write❤️⚠️

After a while of working at Le Comte's mansion, you had learned to love those little moments of peace and relaxation. Being a housekeeper, even if you had the help of Sebastian, was quite demanding. Making sure that everything was clean, that everyone were brought what they needed or wanted. It wasn't unusual for you to spend all your day running from room to room, and it was more tiring than you would have liked to admit.

So when Le Comte offered you to take a day off, you didn't hesitate before saying yes and thanking him. You would cherish every second of this little vacation. He smiled at you and pointed to the door.

"Go on," He said. "The day is all yours, have fun Y/N."

So many possibilities! You could go back to bed, read a book, take a walk, tag along with Arthur in one of his little mysteries, anything was possible today!

You thought about all of that as you went to change into a more comfortable dress than your uniform. While the soft white of your dress would be easier to stain, it was a gift from Le Comte, and you found it incredibly pretty. As you passed a window on your way to your room, you spotted a blond man painting the gorgeous flowers of the garden.

Vincent!

Nevermind going back to sleep or spending the day in the library, you much prefered to spend time and chat with your favorite resident of the mansion. So you picked up your copy of Pride and Prejudice and made your way to the garden.

From the looks of it, Vincent had not been painting for long. Only the sides of the canvas were filled with colours. The middle stayed blank, with only a few pencil marks to mark where would be the "pièce de résistance" if you would. You wondered what he would paint in the center, but whatever it was, there was no doubt it would be absolutealy magnificent.

As he heard you coming, Vincent turned around and smiled before greeting you like he did every morning.

"Good morning Y/N. You're not in uniform, do you have a day off?"

"I do, finally! I love helping out and working for Comte, but days off are quite nice to have every once in a while." You said as you sat on the bench besides the young man.

"They must be," Vincent said, resuming his painting. "That's the fun part about what I do. Days off are whenever I want them to be."

"I envy you for that." You laughed. And he joined in your laughter.

You chatted for a bit, until slowly silence and quietness made it's way back to your little spot in the garden. You read your book, lying on the bench, and Vincent painted the sky on his canvas. All was peaceful and pleasant, the soft breeze that ruffled the leaves, the birds that sang their sweet little songs. This is a good way to spend a day off, you thought.

After some time, Vincent stopped painting. The center of his canvas was still empty, except for the sky above. He looked pensive as he stared at the missing part of his project. every once in a while he would scribble something with his pencil, but he'd erase it just as fast as he'd drawn it. You didn't notice his frustration until he let out a 'hmm' of discontent.

"What is it? Are you having troubles with your painting?"

"I am. I can't find what to paint in the middle and it's getting quite frustrating."

You closed your book and got up to look at the progress Vincent had made. It was already beautiful, but he was right, something was missing in the middle.

"You should paint someone." You said. "It would be pretty with the flowers."

"Hmmm, you're right." Vincent agreed. " I should paint you!"

Your eyes widened at his words. Me?? Not that you were ugly (by all means, you knew you were quite the pretty one), but being in a painting was a whole new level of flattery! And a Van Gogh painting at that!

Vincent seemed to notice your hesitation and wasted no time in encouraging you. After all, to him you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen (even more so in your white dress), and it would be a shame to not prove it with a piece of art.

"You don't have to if you don't want to Y/N," the Van Gogh brother started. "But with a small parasol and a shawl around your arms, hair in the wind, you'd be the most perfect model I could ever ask for."

His pleading eyes only were enough to make you say yes on the spot.

"Alright, do you have a parasol? I can manage for the shawl, but parasol aren't a thing in the 21th century and I don't bring one with me usually..."

Vincent chuckled at your rambling. "Yes I do have a parasol I think, in my room. I'll go fetch it." He said as he put down the paintbrushes he had been holding.

A few minutes later he was back with a soft tulle shawl and a beautiful little parasol. He handed both to you and looked around for something to sit you on. Spotting a wooden bucket not to far, he went and took it, flipping it to make a simple seat for you.

"Now," He said, a hand to his chin as if he was picturing how he'd pose you. "Could you sit on the bucket with your legs a bit to the left? Good! And now place the shawl around your arms... just let it fall loosely, it'll be prettier that way. Perfect! You're a wonderful model Y/N... you're gorgeous."

Your cheeks flushed at his words and a shy smile made it's way to your face. How could he say such things so naturally? Without thinking you lowered your head, trying to hide the effect he had on you. But he didn't let you. With his thumb and index, Vincent brought your chin back up gently, forcing you to look at him as he gazed into your eyes. The man almost seemed in a trance.

His face got closer and closer to yours, until his lips were practically ghosting over yours. Your heart was racing, and you bet his was too. There had never been so little space between you and Vincent. For a moment you thought he would kiss you, but he instead gently placed your hair behind your ears before handing you the parasol and going back to his painting.

A part of you was disappointed that the Van Gogh brother didn't dare to press his lips onto yours, if you were being honest. But it was Vincent, if he was to do it, it would be much more romantic and planned.

You spent the next 30 minutes or so in your thoughts, as Vincent sketched your figure on his canvas. Every now and then you'd feel his eyes on you, almost like he thought you were the most beautiful thing on Earth. In those moments, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and a flutter in your heart. Did he know how he made you feel?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't see the time go by. It was only when Vincent called your name that you seemed to come back to reality.

"I'm done with the painting Y/N," He said with the sweetest smile. "Do you want to see it?"

"Can I?" You asked, surprised that he would offer you the chance to be the first one to see his newest painting. Usually, that privilege was reserved to Theo.

"Of course you can, after all, you are in it aren't you?"

To say that the painting was beautiful would have been to put it to shame. It was truly magnificent. The lady in the picture seemed almost too gorgeous to be you. Did Vincent really see you that way? Your heart raced once again at the thought. And the question left your lips before you could think about it:

"Vincent it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen... do you really see me that way?"

He didn't expect you to ask such a question. Of course he saw you that way! Didn't everybody else? Didn't you? He painted you the exact same way he saw you: as the most beautiful woman in his life. Turning to you, he took your hands in his and looked right into your eyes.

"Of course I do. I made sure that all your beauty was captured in my art. I told you: you are gorgeous, the perfect model... my muse."

Your heart was beating fast and loud in your chest. Vincent's words were too much to handle and you could almost feel yourself fall in love with him. Kiss him, your brain kept on telling you. And without realizing it, you found yourself getting closer and closer to the man standing before you.

"I think I love you," You whispered, before finally closing the gap between you and him.

The kiss was soft, and yet it seemed that everything that needed to be said was. Vincent didn't let go of your hands, but he held onto them a bit tighter.

When you both finally let go of each other, he sighed and smiled. It seemed he had wanted to do this for quite a long time, and he was relieved to know that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

"I think I love you too."

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[salemwritesxx]

↳ bottom bakugou x top m. reader

request: Hii! Could I request a subby Bakugo getting fucked into a mating press with some breeding and feminization kink (like calling his ass a pussy and his pecs as tits), please? Maybe with some dacryphilia too? <3

w.count: 2.2k

content warning: smut, porn without plot, feminization (words like pussy, tits), virgin killer sweater, mating press, dacryphilia, breeding kink

------------------------------------------------------------

“You better come home quickly or I’ll start without you🍑💗”, with a big grin on his lips, he wrote the little message before sending you a very raunchy picture – Katsuki in a virgin killer sweater and a very exposed position, showing off his back.

You hadn’t even been out for 10 minutes – a quick nightly errand to the convenient store for some snacks – but you didn’t think it would turn into this. As you were about to walk up to the register, your phone vibrated, hence you looked at the snap he had sent, not thinking much of it, only to hastily walk and pay the cashier before rushing outside.

Bakugou was only waiting for his chance, thus why he ask you if you could go to the convenient store and buy some snacks, he simply needed a little bit of time to prepare. And now, he was ready, sitting on the bed, legs crossed and waiting for his dear boyfriend to arrive again.

Thankfully, he definitely didn’t need to wait long as he heard the front door opening and closing in just a few minutes, before the thumping as you ran up the stairs got him all excited.

“Katsuki!”, you gasped for breath as you basically ran home as quickly as you could.

Bakugou couldn’t even really react in time had you already jumped onto the bed and hugged him from behind, his back immediately slightly arching to push out his chest more, just to whisper, “Welcome home, Y/n. You were really qui- Ahn!”

Interrupting himself with his moans, your hands snuck underneath his virgin killer sweater to cup his pecs, your “You are such… a tease, Baby. How dare… you.” still quite breathless. As you tried calming your heart and breathing you started massaging his chest, earning his cute little whine and also raspy laugh at the same time as he threw his head back against your shoulder.

“I-I… I don’t know what you… mean…”, though once you tweaked his nipples and rolled them between your fingers, he was already melting and moaning softly.

“Oh really? Of course not, you are so innocent.”, you sighed in a playful way, before leaning in and pressing your lips against his ears to purr, “At least your body is honest. Just look at your huge tits filling out that sweater. So lewd. And your nips are so hard, aren’t you embarrassed? Just look how much they show through the fabric.”

“Ahnh, d-don’t… fucking… say that- ah!”, he bit his bottom lip at last, trying to suppress his sounds, a little bit embarrassed that he moaned so blissfully just because you massaged his chest a little, but he simply was so sensitive it was hard to resist.

“Why? Isn’t it the truth? Your tits are so huge and sensitive, you cry just when I fondle them a bit, it’s so cute.”, the low voice so close to his ear truly made Bakugou violently shiver as he pressed his chest more against your massaging hands.

“I-I don’t cry- AHHnhHn!”, ironically, he interrupted himself just that moment with a desperate cry as you pulled on his erect, juicy nipples, basically confuting his argument the moment he uttered it out loud.

And then, as your hands slowly wandered down over his muscles and the bulge in the virgin killer sweater, you lowly whispered, “I wonder what your pussy has to say, hm? You are probably so wet and aching just from me playing with your tits, huh?”, to which he could only whine and approvingly nod, defeated and just willing to be loved, even though he was so smug just mere seconds ago.

Resting his head against your shoulder, Katsuki buried his hand inside your hair to pull you down, smacking his lips on yours and moaning into your mouth the moment you went ahead and pushed your tongue between his lips, igniting a lustful and sloppy kiss.

Hips jerking against your hand as you reached his cock, you, however, didn’t pay too much attention to it – yet – as you reached past it to his ass, being pleasantly surprised that he had already used lube, thus, you started circling his hole a little with your fingertip, rubbing the sensitive spot to hear him whine against your lips.

“Hmm, you really want to be bred so badly, hm? Your pussy is all ready to be taken. Want me to re-arrange your insides, huh?”, you purred against his lips while pecking them over and over again, Katsuki getting high just from your words as he nodded so vigorously and moaned a “Yes, yes ah! Fuck me, Y/n. Breed my pussy until I’m full with your cum!”

“Ah!”, a surprised gasp paired with a moan, you flipped him so effortlessly, which sadly meant your hands were away from his hot, aching body. Though, it didn’t take long for him to writhe in pleasure underneath your hot touches once you basically ripped the virgin killer sweater from his body, leaving him naked and willing as he spread his legs almost immediately, showing off his ass and twitching hole, before reaching out his hands.

“Come on…”, he looked so desperate, so cute – nothing left from that potty-mouthed alpha he tried to be in public, he was only your cute Baby Boy now. Wanting nothing more but to be fucked into submission and bred properly.

“My, my, my your pussy really is desperate for my cock, isn’t it?”, you chuckled, your fingers back to rubbing against his slick ass, before you reached into the drawer with your other hand to get more lube, ignoring Bakugou’s pleading arms and hands, even when he whined and made grabby hand gestures, you still didn’t comply yet.

“Y/n! NghGHG!”, Bakugou started with an indignant gasp, before whining loudly and throwing his head back against the pillow when you drizzled more lube between his cheeks and started massaging it in, only for your digits to spread him open with ease as you thrusted them inside.

“Ahhnaah! Please… you are so… fucking ahh-“, interrupting himself once more as you started accurately stimulating his prostate, you simply laughed again and fuck… he knew you loved seeing him so desperate.

“Shhh, Baby Boy, take it easy, no?”

“Noooo…I can’t- Nghgh! P-Please…”, his ruby eyes were basically begging you, tears trickling down his cheeks and seeping into the pillow as he sobbed, “Please… fuck me silly already... I need you to… destroy my pussy…”

And that was the last thing he needed to say, your string of patience snapped as you pulled out your fingers and down your loose pants and underwear, just to climb over him and pin his arms above his head; smashing your lips together, almost bruising them a little while you deeply kissed him, Bakugou merely moaning into your mouth lewdly.

Slinging his legs around your hips immediately, he pressed you against him, grinding his cock against your own in a desperate attempt to get more friction, whining and moaning against your lips while trying to keep up with your hot little dance, tongues entwining and drool trickling from the corner of his mouth.

The deep purr and groans that escaped your own throat made his heart jump, knowing both of you enjoyed this so very much, hence rubbing himself a little harder against you, smearing his precum against your cock to get more slip.

“Pah!”, gasping for air once you pulled back, Katsuki was panting, his swollen, red lips glistening and those beautiful ruby eyes shimmering with tears – he looked so incredibly ravishing, you just wanted to devour him right then and there.

And so, he watched as you sat back. For a second, you gently caressed his legs, from his ankle to his knee, feeling the blonde hairs underneath your palm, before he hiccupped in delightful surprise when you grabbed him eventually, just to press his knees against his chest into a mating press.

“Come on, Baby, help me out a little, hm? Spread your tight pussy for me.”, you seductively purred and grinned while rubbing your cockhead against his hole.

Gulping a bit, he nodded as he reached out his shaking hands, one wrapped around your cock to give you a few strokes and earning your delightful hiss as you thrusted into his palm, the other spreading his ass. With his help, you then easily slipped in, listening to his lewd cry and sob as he threw his head back as you spread him, his “Ahhnh y-yes ahhnh~” only riling you up more – making you shove the last inches of your cock into him just to make him hiccup and cry in pleasure.

“Fuck! Oh shit. Baby… Fuck you feel so good.”, you moaned as well as you leaned in, Katsuki’s legs hanging in mid-air as you started ramming into him, breeding him properly and deeply, your boyfriend instantly almost screaming your name as you penetrated his prostate so mercilessly.

“Ahnh Yaahh B-Breed me ahh! Baby p-plea- ahh!”, Bakugou sobbed and hiccupped, nails digging into your arm, only to throw his head back once more when you leaned down to mark him, biting him roughly, yet he moaned even louder.

“I will, Kacchan.”, you pressed out between moaning, your hands grabbing his chest and squeezing his pecs as you said, “Your tits will be even bigger once you’re pregnant. You will be leaking all over the place.”

Hearing those words, Katsuki was embarrassed and so turned on at the same time, pushing his chest more against your massaging hands and crying your name when you roughly tweaked his buds and pulled on them, just how he liked it.

Both of you were panting and moaning, Bakugou desperately holding on to you while you shoved your big cock into his little hole effortlessly, making sure he was only seeing blinking little stars.

“Y/n! Y/n! AhHHn!”, he didn’t care about anything anymore, his mind was blank, Katsuki only knew pleasure and your name, taking everything you gave him like the good boy he was.

“Tell me… does your pussy feel good, huh?”, you moaned, your voice shaking and your hips slapping against his skin.

“Y-Yeeshh ahh my- my pussy… feels shooo good!”, he slurred and cried, sobbing your name in the end as well.

His chest and cock were bouncing due to the vigorous movements, his nipples bright red from being overstimulated by you, the way you twisted them sending pleasurable jolts through his body – he was so close at this point.

“I-I’m gon- Ahhhnn Y/n! Gonna!”, Bakugou tried to tell you how close to the edge he was, though you didn’t listen.

For a moment, you got slower, barely grinding as you regained your own strength, Katsuki’s ass pulsating and sucking you in so greedily as you rubbed against his sweet spot, his tear-stained, red face looking so delighted.

“You’re gonna cum, Baby, hm?”

“Y-Yes- ah! Please…”, he begged and pushed his ass against your cock, swallowing it balls-deep. The chuckle that escaped your lips made him shiver and whine.

“Then cum, Kacchan. Don’t hold back. Cum with just your pussy!”, and then, you pulled out almost completely, earning his indignant gasp, just to shove your cock back inside, his ear-piercing pleasurable cry spurring you on even more.

It only took a few more thrusts and your hands fondling his tits for Bakugou to completely lose himself in the pleasure, crying so pitifully, his usually raspy voice so high-pitched and cute as it broke due to his loud sounds.

“Ahhn breed me! Breed me! Y/n!”, were his last desperate moans before his whole body spasmed when he reached his orgasm, cum squirting all over his belly, his cock bouncing so pitifully, though you didn’t stop. Fucking him through his orgasm, he was so overstimulated and overwhelmed, eyes slightly rolled back and his nails almost drawing blood with how hard he clawed at your arm as you breed him properly.

In the end, you rammed your cock in wholly one last time, your own body shaking as you wrapped your arms around him while pumping your seed into his ass, Bakugou moaning and slurring an “Ahh Yesh fi-fill myy pusshy… Nhh!” as his toe curled and his teeth sinking in his bottom lip due to feeling your hot cum stuffing him full.

His ass was overflowing with your seed when you pulled out and started lightly thrusting again, both of you moaning almost in synch due to the overstimulating friction as you softly grinded for a few more moments, letting your seed drip between Bakugou’s ass and into the sheets.

“Y/n…”, he barely breathed when you eventually sat back and softly placed his quivering legs onto the sheets to slowly pull out eventually, more cum dripping out of his used hole the moment his ass released your cock with a quiet plop.

“Hmhmh, that’s what I call a nicely bred pussy.”, you smirked and Katsuki grunted.

“Come here… I’m cold.”, reaching out his hands, he gestured you to come closer again, hence you immediately crawled on top of him to flop down, hugging him tightly and kissing all over his pretty face.

“Let’s do reverse cowgirl next.”, he barely croaked, thus clearing his throat to try and get his voice back.

Katsuki knew how much you liked his back view and watching him bounce on top of you and your purred “Hmmm a nice view awaits me.” only confirmed it.

Though for now, as you both recovered a bit of your strengths, he pulled you down to meet his lips, making himself hum delightfully as they melted into each other, tongues softly entwining – no rush this time as you had the whole night for yourselves after all.

------------------------------------------------------------

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

writer’s note: that was one nice story to write (¬‿¬) after finally having my tooth pulled last week, I finally feel better and it’s not hurting anymore! the last 14 days were hell on earth, but I am back, I am not high on pain meds anymore and well.. my teeth are trash so know I have 4 new appointments to get them all drilled and filled and idk what else – with 19… l o v e my life lmfao one more thing to be self-conscious about, having a missing tooth with 19 YAY great👌🏼 and even tho I brush and floss and rinse every day… like why? what did I do to deserve trash teeth even tho I take good care of them? anyways, if you’ve read until here, I hope you have a good day! And know you are amazing and bomb!💕

[imagineansuta]

hi there!!! i would like a scenario with a very short (and usually too shy to initiate but affection-loving) producer struggling to reach Rei, Arashi and Madara and kiss them on the cheek, then getting tired/a little pouty and giving them a hug instead? thanks<3!!!

this!!!!! is such a cute ask!!!!!!

REI SAKUMA

“you did -- you did that on purpose!”

“i haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” rei hums, half-lidded eyes staring down your figure. as you try to reach up again, he cranes his head further from you with a smile, leaving the red on your face a shade darker.

work-related activities have left both of you with little time for each other, and admittedly you had missed the way he’d pester you. what felt like days of waiting had filled you with a newfound boost of confidence, prompting you to attempt to lean over for a quick peck on his cheek…. if only he would cooperate with you.

again, you lean over and again, he dodges your movement swiftly. the difference in your heights clearly doesn’t make this any easier for you. the glint in his eyes makes no effort to hide his amusement, and he has the nerve to feign (or not, considering it’s rei) a bored yawn. “have your eyes gone bad too? hmm, to think that old age would creep on even you so easily…”

with a huff, you allow the tips of your toes to rest, burying your face into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. you feel his body shake as he chuckles and sets a hand atop your head, smoothing out your hair. the other one finds its way on your waist, pulling you closer to him. no, this isn’t so bad either. you shouldn’t be too needy, and surely he’s tired, and maybe he doesn’t even want to --

-- “won’t you look up at me again?”

you shake your head against his chest, he laughs again. now it’s your turn to be difficult.

“i won’t run away from you any longer. this, i promise.”

eyebrows furrowed and cheeks all puffed up, you glance up at him with a faux pout. rei freezes for a quick moment to map out your face with his eyes, only to indeed learn down to your height, his hair tickling your face as he leans in closer. you take this chance to brush your lips against his cheek, and he repays the favour with no hesitation, peppering kisses from your nose to the side of your cheek.

“how i’ve missed you, love.”

ARASHI NARUKAMI 

walk up to arashi. give her a quick kiss on the cheek. compliment her.

it’s simple enough, really. since you had extra time on your hands, you had decided to join her with her modelling photoshoot. it’s definitely to broaden your horizons as a producer, of course. it’s not as if it’s half an excuse to watch her fully dressed up with not a single hair out of place. to you, she’s ethereal, and no photo can even compare to seeing her beauty up close.

with a nervous expression and bated breath, you prepare yourself to execute your perfect, totally-not-impulsive foolproof plan. the photographer gives a nod and the crew scatters to take a short break. you watch as arashi walks over to the camera, reviewing a set of shots before smiling and making her way towards you.

“hi,” you whisper as she slips her fingers between yours. “how are they?”

“perfect, of course. we shouldn’t need to stay much longer, so i can spend the rest of the day with you ♪”

she gives your hands a reassuring squeeze, yet you still feel a lump build up in your throat. would...would now be an appropriate time to do it?  you get on your tiptoes to boost yourself up, but the realization dawns on you that you’re still nowhere close to her height, especially not when she’s also in heels. your brain comes to a blank and all you can do is give her a sheepish look, and perhaps you’re quite obvious with your staring too, because her smile drops upon scanning your face.

“heeey, is something the matter?”

you blink silently for a few seconds before flushing red — in an attempt to hide your expression, you pull her into a hug. “it’s not fair, naru, wearing heels when you’re already that much taller than me…”

“there, there ~” she sings, returning your hug before bending down until you’re both face level. “i think your height is totally cute, though?”

with a hand cupping your cheek, arashi gently runs a thumb over your face. your own hands trembling, you gently grab onto her clothes and lean in ... only to be interrupted by a sharp cough from behind. the photographer crosses his arms, motioning for his model back, and you both shoot him an apologetic smile.

“awww, let’s save the rest for later, shall we?”

MADARA MIKEJIMA

your boyfriend’s running full speed ahead towards you, arms wide open and footsteps thundering, and you think you can’t possibly be more in love. 

with a quick swoop, he easily sweeps you off your feet and spins you around. you squeal out in surprise, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt and burying your face in the crook of his neck -- you do know that it’s unnecessary though, since he’d never let you fall from his grip.

“i didn’t expect to see you here!” you gasp, leaning back to smile at him. your legs wrap around his torso when you realize he has no intentions of setting you down, his arms supporting your weight with ease. madara beams at you, his chest shaking with each laugh.

“hahaha! it really is a small world, huh? were you walking back home? you could’ve called on me, you know!”

“i can’t always rely on you...” resting on his shoulder, you let out a sigh.

in any other case, sticking onto your boyfriend like a koala wouldn’t be something you’d prefer to do in public, but producer work had left you drained. what could be a better battery charger than your very own madara mikejima?

he lets out a grunt, resting his cheek against your head before turning to plant a kiss on your face. “you’ve been working hard, right? as an idol and as your partner, let me take care of you every now and then, kaaay? i’ll walk you back!”

madara lets you back onto the ground with another kiss to the same spot. he moves back up before you can reply with your own kiss, however, leaving you frozen on the spot. as he turns around to lead you home, you rush over to give him another tight hug, lower lip stuck out in a fake pout. this earns a laugh from him -- fingers messing up your hair in a messy ruffle.

“whaaat? you want mama to pick you up again?”

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 2 Here!

Commission info for a Love Letter from you favorite character here!

- You’re probably someone on his morning routine, or who could easily become apart of his daily routine

- Maybe a friendly barista at a café he’s curious about on the way to the his store

- But I like to think you’re someone that works at the local flower shop

- He catches you on his way to work one morning, choosing to walk that day to stretch his legs

- Apparating is convenient, but if he’s not careful he’ll get out of shape pretty fast.

- He see’s you across the street, watering the plants you keep outside the shop, talking to each of them, a smile across your face as you do

- The morning light hits you just right, the golden glow spreading across your face

- “Well aren’t they quite cute?”

- He starts walking to work everyday from then on

- It’s on the fourth or fifth day you notice him-

- Well really you notice his hair, it’s such a rich red

- A livelier shade than any rose or hibiscus you could grow

- “I bet it’s hair dye.” Your co-worker tells you “you know how these city boys are-“

- Well your store is in the heart of the city, on the Jump Street, sandwiched between a book store and a boutique

- And yeah, most of the guys around here do seem impeccably dressed,

- one of your very handsome regular's who comes in to get flowers for his husband every Tuesday even admitted he has a running bi-monthly appointment at the spa, he gets a spray tan, dye job, eyebrows tweezed, the works.

- “It’s just what I have to do to compete, there’s so many young CEO’s now, you’ve got to keep up appearances.” 

- And you’re sure he’s not the only one

- Still.. you can’t help but believe that a shade of red that vibrant- that beautiful- can’t be from just hair dye

- “Maybe” you mumble, turning your attention to the peony’s

- You wonder if you’ll see him walk by at the end of the day when all the offices close

- But even though you keep your eyes glued to the store front window, he never shows up

- You see him again the next morning, walking across the street

- This time you take a little more of him in

- He’s pretty tall, though you can’t make out much of his build when he’s wearing that rust colored coat

- And a splatter of freckles across his face, almost like constellations

- He’s got a long nose, but it works with his face

- He’s pretty handsome

- What comes next shouldn’t surprise you, but it does

- Perhaps he felt your eyes on him, silently assessing him- studying him

- Because his eyes lift up to meet yours

- They’re the deepest brown you’ve ever seen, especially when the morning light hits them just so

- Oh sh*t, he caught you staring

- Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t.

- Okay, it’s fine

- Just okay- Just play it cool

- So, you pretend like you weren’t just staring at this handsome stranger admiring his features

- And shamelessly offer your best smile and a wave

- To your surprise he grins, smile spreading across his face

- A light pink dusting his face as he waves back

- And so you become waving friends

- Waving to each other every morning

- Which slowly evolves into trading morning greetings

- “How’s your morning going?” He asks from across the street

- Miffed commuters give him disgruntled looks as they walk around him rushing to work, but he stays rooted to the spot

- “It’s alright can’t complain!” You shout back from your spot by the gardenia bush, earning several looks as well

- “How about you?”

- He gives a teasing look to all the angry passerby’s and gives a “so-so” hand motion

- You almost laugh so hard you cry

- This goes on for a few more days, and your co-workers take notice

- “Flirting with the red head (Y/N)? On company time?” Your co-worker mock gasps and you roll your eyes

- “Oh hush, I’m just being friendly to a neighbor.”

- Your co-worker doesn’t look like they’re buying it, but they don’t say anything else

- It’s late in the afternoon when the shop bell rings

- You’re up to your elbows trimming and re-potting the hydrangeas

- You figure one of the others will get

- You hear some footsteps but ignore it, 

- This part is tricky, if you damage any of the roots the plant might not be able to make it

- “Um excuse me, I was wondering if you might help me with something?”

- Ugh, don’t they see you’re in the middle of something

- You’re about to turn around and tell them that customers aren’t supposed to be in back room-

- When you catch a glimmer of vivid red in the corner of your eye

- No that can’t be right, he doesn’t even walk back this way in the afternoon

- Your heart stutters in your chest, face growing hot

- Your crush is getting out of control-

- When you look up, there he is

- His adorable freckles face in all its glory

- Here in the homely, rather dirty, back-plant room at your flower store

- A hesitant smile curled on to his lips

- “I’m sorry, it looks like I’m interrupting, the clerk in the front said you would be back here-“

- Of course they did

- So well what’s he here for?

- Is he here to ask you in a date??

- You might just combust from joy at the thought

- Or maybe he’s here to order a large bouquet for his lover, and the rest of your co-workers think it’s time you get yourself out of this little crush of yours

- The thought fills you with both embarrassment and despair

- Only extreme highs and lows with you, it seems

- “- I’m a business owner a few streets over, and I thought some flowers might add some atmosphere, they said you’re the expert”

- He gives you a boyish grin, his hands shoved into his pockets

- So somewhere in the middle then

- Aright you can work with that

- “Do you have an idea of what kind of flowers you might want?” You’re already moving towards the sink, washing the fertilizer off your arms.

- George blanks, he hasn’t really thought that far

- “Not particularly, do you have any recommendations?”

- You nod, lips pursed as you grab the order form

- “Well what kind of store do you have? Peonys’ and orchids’ are always good with boutiques”

- You figure he owns an upscale boutique or maybe a restaurant, those tend to be the places that do the best in this area.

- And by the looks of his taupe coat, his store is doing very well

- “Hmm well-“ his hand rubs his chin

- Technically it’s a joke shop, but it’s grown to be more than that isn’t it?

- He sells potions, charms, stationary, prank goods (of course), muggle novelty’s- it makes sense to him- but his store has grown to be quite eclectic over the years

- Besides he doubts he can explain it you

- He’s still on the fence whether you’re a muggle or from magic like him

- You’re plants have him suspicious, no way a muggle could grow a gardenia that would put Neville Longbottom to shame-

- Still, if you were a witch there’s no way you wouldn’t have recognized him by now

- The Weasleys have all become some sort of warrior clan war hero, he’s even on a chocolate frog card now.

- Well, he would rather not risk it

- He’s always been the cautious one

- “It’s sort of a hobby store? Well it started out as one, but now we’ve been expanding and we sell a bit of everything.”

- “So kind of like a department store?”

- Department stores are a bit more tricky, each room has a different vibe, but the overall tone has to be neutral

- Hmmmm

- “Maybe some white roses? Orchids might be nice too, and if you’ve got a bit of a green thumb I might recommend succulents or some devils ivy?”

- This is all going straight over George’s head, he never did pay much attention in herbology

- But you’re talking to him as if he’s an equal and he doesn’t want the cutie who works at the local flower shop think any less of him because he doesn’t know a d*mn about plants

- “Those sound lovely”

- He’s not entirely sure how it happens, but by the time he’s left he’s got an armful of plants, and a rolling order at your store to pick up plants every Tuesday

- “Are you sure you’re alright? We deliver for free you know?”

- “No no it’s fine-“

- The tall leafy plant shakes every time he shakes his head

- “Besides I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to see you again” he winks before turning to leave

- You feel your heart skip a beat

- “Did you ask if it was a dye job?” You co-worker yells from the other side of the store as soon as he’s gone

- “Of course I didn’t Ainsley! For one that’s awfully rude”

- They nod knowingly

- “Yeah that’s really fifth date talk”

- They laugh when you throw one of the cards at them

- And like clockwork George comes in every Monday afternoon, and leaves with a handful of arrangements and plants

- You still talk to each other on the street

- “How are the hydrangeas working out for you?” You ask and he gives a ‘ditto’ hand gesture

- “They’re class! I was wondering if I could get a few more?”

- You nod

- “We’ll have more ready for you on Monday, are you sure you don’t want delivery?”

- He manages to carry them off every time, but it sure makes you nervous, just one tumble and they would be ruined

- “We’ve been over this, how would I get to see you then?”

- He gives you a lopsided grin and you find yourself reflecting the expression

- “Oi! Would you two stop flirting in the middle of the street, you’re blocking traffic!” Someone shouts

- He just laughs and offers you a wave

- “What’s with all the plants?”

- They’re the first words out of Ron’s mouth when he steps inside the shop, he’s already shrugging off his coat making his way to where George is fiddling with a new contraption

- “I thought they would make the place livelier”

- False.

- He just wanted an excuse to talk to you.

- He does like the plants though. The white hydrangeas you recommended for the potions section are absolutely lovely

- Though he did use a few charms to make them larger, and stay fresher longer.

- He’s basically got a wall covered in hydrangeas now

- Still lovely though

- “It does look nice” Rob admits

- “So where are the products you need help fixing?”

- George groans waving towards a few oddly stacked boxes

- The packaging on his restock of the portable swamps came in the wrong color, not a big deal he can always change it with a spell

- But it is tedious work, especially when you have to do it one by one, otherwise it might upset the contents.

- And he does not want a swamp in his store

- Ron only nods, unpacking the box

- “You want purple right?”

- There’s a moment of silence between the two

- Purple was Fred’s favorite color

- He used to joke it was because that’s the color Snape turned when he was mad

- But George knows it’s because purple’s the color of the first fireworks they saw.

- He, Fred, Ron and Ginny had snuck away when they were younger to a muggle festival in the village, awestruck by the shapes the fireworks took.

- Fred would have carved that moment into his bones if he could.

- George clears his throat

- “Yeah, purple, same shade as the shop sign”

- Ron nods, pulling out a products wordlessly, motioning with his wand

- “So what’s really the deal with all these plant?” Ron asks, and George sighs

- “Nothing I just thought it might be good for business”

- “Did you get swindled by an attractive salesman?”

- “I wouldn’t say swindled” you gave him a pretty generous discount, and you were even offering free delivery

- That’s kind of a lot to give for a muggle shop

- “So they were attractive then?” Ron says with a grin, he’s only ribbing

- But George’s inquisitive look and the pink flush across his freckles nose makes Ron think he’s on the nose

- “(Y/N)’s fairly attractive”

- Fairly is putting it mildly though, George thinks your adorable

- Ron stutters halfway through the transfiguration spell

- “(Y/N)? Like hot (Y/N)? From the flower shop?”

- George is puzzled but nods

- “You went to hot (Y/N)‘s shop?!?!? WITHOUT ME?” Ron looks like he’s about to cry

- “How would Hermione feel is she heard you talking about another person like that?”

- Ron just gives him an incredulous look

- “She would say ‘I can’t believe George went to hot (Y/N)‘s shop and didn’t invite us’!”

- Apparently you’re quite popular in the shopping district. Your flowers have won the city award twice, before you opened your shop you won a contract as the city’s horticulturist.

- “Last Valentine’s Day Harry and I stood in line for two hours to pick up our bouquets” Ron tells him, he’s already done with the first box

- He figured business was good, it’s almost impossible to run a flower shop in the middle of the city if it isn’t.

- But he didn’t imagine you were award winning or anything

- He sighs so you are a muggle, and you’ve got no need for magic, you make up the difference in talent and skill

- He likes that, maybe he should get some shirts or art prints that say something like that

- He feels a small smile creep onto his face

- Oh well, probably for the best, he’s not sure he has time to date what with how busy things have been

- “Free for dinner? We can go wherever you want, my treat.” George says, slipping on his coat as they finish with the last of the products.

- “How about (Y/N)‘s flower shop?”

- George laughs

- “I’m pretty sure they close at 5....also they don’t have food Ron”

- Ron sighs like he’s just been told Christmas is just cancelled

- “The leaky cauldron is fine too I guess”

- But George can’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the weekend.

- It’s not really that big of a deal if you’re a muggle, but-

- Well how would that even work?

- The closest thing to a muggle he’s personally known is Hermione- who’s a witch and just muggle born

- He wouldn’t be able to tell you about being a wizard- not until you were married, or at least serious enough that he knew you both were going to get married. Which he doesn’t know how he feels about

- So he would have three full time jobs

- Taking care of the store, being your boyfriend, oh and hiding his magical powers from you

- Lovely

- But Merlin- wouldn’t his family love it if he brought you home?

- His Dad would be over the moon, and his Mum, well she’d be happy he found anyone at all. But she wouldn’t mind the pointers you gave her on how to get pinker roses.

- Percy wouldn’t really care either way. He might even like it, a muggle in the family might help his political agenda.

- Good for optics and all

- He already knows Ron likes you

- He and Hermione will be quite pleased they get to ogle you all they want at holiday dinners

- Ginny will like having another person in the family, she would personally give you a tour of the burrow

- Fleur will like having another in law in the family- and Bill will be happy that she’s happy

- Charlie would love it, asking you all about what kind of plants his dragons might like, and if you might plant a few for him, come visit in Romania- the port key’s always open for family-

- Actually he might have to watch out for Charlie, his older brother might legit steal you away from him

- .

- ...

- Fred would have loved you

- Fred would have never let it go on this long

- Fred would have seen George’s lovestruck expression the first time he saw you and said-

- “Well are you going to ask them out?”

- Fred always was the bold one, George was just following his lead most of the time.

- That fireworks thing in their last year was entirely Fred’s idea. 

- George would sputter and shrug in response

- ‘I was just lookin’, a man can look can’t he?’

- Fred would have given him one of his wicked grins and said:

- “Look if you don’t ask them out now, then I will”

- And pushed him across the street, holding him to it

- And then when he was halfway across the street towards you Fred would shout:

- “And see if they’ll give us a friends and family discount for the store!”

- George is grinning just imagining it

- Fred wouldn’t have cared at all that you were a muggle.

- All he would care about is that you would make his brother, his best friend, happy.

- “Honestly George, you get hung up over the dumbest things-“ Fred would have said

- “You like them don’t you? They make you feel good about the world and life?”

- And George would just dumbly nod

- “Then that’s all that matters doesn’t it? That you care about someone, and that you can see a future with them. All that other stuff- it’s just noise”

- Alright he’ll try then

- Not just for Fred, but for himself too.

- George strolls into your shop on Monday, an hour before you open-

- “Oh hello George! You’re a little early, I’ve got your hydrangeas trimmed I just need to get your potted plants ready and-“

- “Would you like to go out sometime?”

- “-then I’ll fix up the roses for y-“

- Huh?

- You freeze for a moment, almost dropping the plant in your hands

- Did he just ask you on a date?

- “If dinner is too much, maybe just tea- or coffee?”

- Maybe it’s not exciting enough for you

- Ugh! He knew he should have suggested something more fun like the zoo or maybe a botanical garden?

- But you’re around plants all day, he didn’t want to make you think he only knows one thing-

- “Friday?”

- His eyes shoot up to look at your face, he hadn’t even noticed he was staring at his shoes

- “What?”

- “Friday” you repeat, you’ve got a smile that seems lovelier than any of the flowers you grow.

- “Is Friday good for dinner? I close up at six”

- He grins so wide he’s afraid his face might break

- “Friday is perfect”

[kkaebsongtypo]

[7:24pm] “bobaeyes, thank you so much for the 5 gifted subs!” You smiled at the camera as you thanked one of your viewers. You crossed your legs in your chair and continued tapping away at your keyboard, planting strawberry seeds in your newly constructed Minecraft farm. You hummed along to your background music softly, harvesting your grown fruits and vegetables before hopping back to your house and putting your produce in the fridge.

“Hmm, I kind of want to build a… wait- like one of those spinny things- what are those called?? HELP I’m drawing a blank-” You laughed at yourself in disbelief and looked at your chat. The messages were quickly flooded with the word you were looking for.

“A windmill! Right, thank you! I want to build a windmill over by the flower garden.” You shook your head and looked back to your game. You dug through your chests for the materials you wanted, continuing to tell your chat about your plans. A highlighted message caught your eye when you glanced at chat. You recited it as you made your way to the flower garden.

“froggieteefs thank you for the sub, ‘Is donghyuck streaming also?’ Yes he is! He’s streaming Phasmophobia with Jeno and Che- OH MY GOSH!!!” You gasped mid-sentence after realizing you had forgotten something crucial. You paused your game and started standing up, quickly changing to your ‘be right back’ screen.

“I’ll be right back!! Just- give me a second!” You set your headphones down and rushed out the door. You hopped down the stairs towards where your boyfriend’s streaming setup was, shouting to him as you approached the door.

“Babe!!” You turned the handle and entered the room after he replied. He pulled his headphones off one of his ears and looked up at you from his chair; a bright smile on his lips. The sleeves of his hoodie were rolled up to his elbows and gold, round frames were perched on his nose. You smiled back at the sight of the bobby pins that still held his hair away from his face like you left it prior to beginning your stream.

“Say hi to the stream! What’s up?” You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and waved to his stream.

“Hello everyone~~ hey Jeno, Lele.” You bent down into frame and leaned closer to Donghyuck, hoping to hear the other boy's replies through his headset. You giggled softly at Jeno and Chenle’s loud greeting to you that caused Donghyuck to furrow his brows and quietly scold them for yelling in his ear.

“I just realized that we forgot our good luck kiss earlier.” You said, turning to face your boyfriend. His eyes widened as he gasped, quickly facing you as well.

“You’re right!” He exclaimed louder, before placing a soft peck to your lips. You smiled softly at him, the signature bright smile returning to his face as he spoke again.

“Good luck with your stream, baby. Have fun!” You swatted his hand away when he reached up and ruffled your hair. He chuckled and turned his head to the hand that rested on his shoulder, placing another quick kiss to your knuckles.

“You too, babes!” You placed his headphone back over his exposed ear and began straightening your back, about to head back to your own stream.

“Enjoy the rest of Hyuck’s stream everyone~ Try not to die to any ghosts, baby.” You pressed your lips to his cheek before waving goodbye to his stream. Donghyuck called your name and sent you a wink as you looked back at him on your way out. Without missing a beat, you winked back at him and blew him a kiss, giggling to yourself as you shut the door and running back up the stairs to your office.

“Alright, hey all! I’m back!” You placed your headphones back over your ears and pulled up your gameplay and facecam once more. As you readjusted yourself in your chair your read through chat and laughed quietly at a message caught your eye.

“Yes! Everything is okay haha, it’s just that- like- before either of us stream, Hyuck and I always give each other like a little ‘good luck, have fun!’ kiss and we just forgot today for some reason so I ran down to do that.” A wave of messages expressing how adorable they thought your little routine was made you smile, heat slowly rising to your cheeks. Certain comments about you and your boyfriend made your heart flutter as they appeared in chat.

“A lot of you are saying that you want more content of us together,” You giggled as you got back to your windmill building. You hummed softly.

“We were actually planning on doing an Animal Crossing update stream this weekend because I’ve been playing a lot of that in my spare time and my island has changed quite a bit since you last saw it. Hyuck also has yet to see some of the new stuff so we were thinking of doing a chill stream for that, it’s also winter time in the game so that’s very exciting!” Your eyes went back and forth between placing blocks and reading chat.

“meh77 thank you for the 100 bits! I see a lot of you saying you want to see us play Among Us together..hmm” You thought for a moment, continuing the outline of your windmill.

“Maybe I’ll send Hyuck and the crew a message and see if they’d want to play a few rounds later. But I do want to make some good windmill progress so hopefully they plan on playing Phasmophobia for a bit.” You smiled at all the excited messages that took over your chat and picked up your phone to text your group chat. You looked back into your chat as you typed the message into your phone and pressed send.

“Hey actually, are any of them in chat...?” You raised your eyebrows and checked through the messages, scanning for any of the mod icons. It didn’t take long for you to spot chats confirming two of your friends attendance.

“Sick, Jaem and Mark are here AND they’re down to play. Ooh I need more wood..” You sorted your inventory and went back to your house for more resources. You looked down at your phone screen when it lit up, reading the replies that just came in.

“Oh! Wow- Renjun and Jisung both already replied and are in! Looks like we’ll be playing some Among Us in a bit. And yes, I’m sure Hyuck will be joining. If you’ve never watched him play; he is very good. It would be awesome if we got imposter together tonight- this is going to be so fun!!” You clapped your hands before continuing back to the windmill. The chat filled with more enthusiastic messages as you changed the subject back to your Minecraft plans. A small smile found your lips when your phone lit up again, this time with a text from Donghyuck.

“Chat is looking forward to among us later, they really want to see us killing everyone together ;) talk to you in a bit, baby.”

streamer!hyuck mini m.l

unus annus m.l

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 23

Hope y’all enjoy the chapter 🥰

“Why is it every time I see you, you look even more exhausted than when you left?” Fabian said only half joking while looking him up and down critically. Leo huffed a sigh as he dropped his bag and plopped down next to his friend to start lacing up his skates.

Leo chuckled in response, “I don’t know man, it’s just been… an emotionally charged week.”

“Yeah? Didn’t you just move in with that guy, I thought you would be happy? Is it already not working out?”

“No,” Leo answered quickly, making Fabian glance over at him in surprise, “no, it’s been great, Finn is great. There’s just…” Leo let his voice trail off, not entirely sure what it was he wanted to say. His mind flicked back to the night before, falling asleep in Finn's bed, the man himself wrapped up tight in his arms, the warm velvety timer of his voice lulling him into unconsciousness as he painted pictures with his words. Then this morning when he woke up alone, the warm sheets his only companion.

When the early morning sunrays began streaming through Finns open blinds Leo had slowly blinked his eyes open a bit nervously. He couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering inside him, he was scared to see where he would stand with Finn now that the cover of night had been stripped away by the golden light of morning. However, it seemed his fear was unwarranted as the redhead was nowhere to be found once Leo had finally opened his eyes. Glancing down at the empty space Finn’s body had once occupied, Leo found a slip of paper; one edge was ragged like it had been torn from a notebook and in neat angular handwriting was a message.

Good morning Nutter Butter. I went out for a run to clear my head this morning so I probably won’t see you until later. Have a good day at practice, I’ll see you tonight.

At the bottom he had signed his name and added a little doodle of a fish. Leo smiled softly reading the words over again, he trailed a fingertip over the paper feeling the little indents from where Finn's pen had pressed into the paper. And when he wandered back over to his own room to get ready to head to practice Leo took that paper with him, he so very carefully tucked it into his nightstand wanting to keep it safe.

“There’s just a lot,” he finally finished.

Fabian nodded, seeming to catch some of the meaning behind those words, “Hey, you know what? How about after practice we head to the coffee shop and you can tell me about that lot that you have going on. Maybe an outside opinion can make it easier, or even just talking about it might help.”

Leo felt a little jolt of affection for his friend, after all Fabian had been the first one to welcome him to Gryffindor with open arms and had since remained as a constant support.

“That actually sounds really great.”

“Alright, well it’s a plan,” he said with a crooked grin, “but now we need to get out on the ice before Madam Maxine comes searching for us, cause believe me it would not be fun.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Leo said with a laugh following Fabian out of the locker room and towards the ice. The two of them parted and began working through their warm ups, Leo melted into the motions stretching and loosening his shoulders, his hips, making sure his muscles were warm and ready to let him fly.

Once he had finished his warm ups Leo set to work on the second of the new jumps Madam Maxine had added to his program. The quads were challenging, that’s an understatement, Leo thought to himself as he pulled his body off the ice for the umpteenth time rubbing at the sore bruise forming on his ass cheek.

“Leo, come.”

Leo glanced up to see that Madame Maxine had glided elegantly onto the ice herself and was beckoning him over to her. Skating closer Leo blinked a bit in shock, he was always thrown when he came across someone taller than himself and his coach positively towered over him on her skates.

“You’re making progress,” she said, accent thick around the words.

“Thank you Madam,” he nodded.

“You still need to work on your expressions though, your face is completely blank when you skate. I can see the gears turning in your mind as you perform.”

“Uh… yeah, I’m still working on that,” Leo said, feeling a self-conscious flush rise in his cheeks. He still had no idea how to make his feelings come across in his performance, after all he had begun figure skating as a way of running and hiding from the feelings inside him, how was he supposed to simply just let them out for everyone to see?

“Have you settled on a composition? You should really be working with your music at this stage.”

“No, um not quite,” he said, brushing a bit of hair out of his face nervously. Leo knew that he should have picked his music a long time ago but for some reason anything that he listened to just didn’t feel right, it didn’t fit.

“Hmm, you have one more week to choose,” she said sternly, “if you have not selected a piece by then, you will not be ready to compete.”

“Alright, I’ll have something by then,” Leo replied, Madam Maxine simply nodded and gestured for him to continue his work before she skated away to speak to Gilderoy. With a little sigh Leo got back to it.

***

Leo groaned at the ache in his bones when he finally left the ice, making his way into the locker room on his blade guards. Sitting down on the bench to unlace his skates Leo snagged a water bottle and his phone from his skate bag only to realiz there were several new notifications waiting for him. He huffed a laugh at the name that popped up when he clicked on the message.

(Mighty Mouse): Video attached

Leo clicked on the video and suddenly Logan’s face was filling up his screen as he held the camera in front of himself.

“So, when I got to the rink for practice today, guess what I found waiting for me?” Logan’s voice fell from the phone's speaker filled with exasperation. He shifted the camera to what looked like his stall in the team’s locker room, pushed to the side was a pile of what looked like children’s hockey equipment in the Lions colors.

“This,” he said, turning the camera back to himself dramatically, “is the aftermath of what one James Potter considers a prank.” Logan reached down and grabbed something out of the pile and held up a ridiculously small jersey that had read Tremblay 10. “He came in here and replaced every single piece of gear in my stall with equipment meant for six year olds,” there was a pained look on Logan’s face as he said that but Leo couldn’t help the cackle that ripped through him at the thought of Logan walking into the locker room to find everything in his spot miniaturized.

“And then!” Logan continued on the video, “when I being a little confused as to where all my crap went, asked what was going on, this bastard had the audacity to look me dead in the eye and say ‘Oh, I thought these would fit you better, with how small you are and everything.’”

Leo completely lost it at that coupled with the crazed look on Logan’s face, he could barely breathe through his howling laughter.

“I swear, if he didn’t need them to play I would have taken his knee caps right then and there,” Logan zoomed the camera a little closer to his face and let his voice fall a bit to a whisper, “but I’ll get him back, believe me I’ll get him back.” Logan’s eyes glowed with mischief, “I’ll keep you posted,” he said with a wink just as the video ended.

Leo was still chuckling as he clicked the next attached video clip which looked like it was sent a little later than the first. Logan was now in what looked like a weight room, he had changed into a Lions logo muscle shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and he had his curls tucked up under a snapback. Leo struggled to pull his focus onto the words coming from Logan’s mouth as his strong arms and shoulders were now in full view.

“So,” Logan started glancing over at the door to make sure no one was coming, “I’ve devised the perfect payback.” Logan grinned deviously at the camera and held up a little container that made Leo gasp when he recognized it, “well, if you don’t know, this here is citric acid and even just a tiny bit will turn something into a tart little surprise.” Logan chuckled and grabbed a bottle of blue Gatorade, “this is James’s, he’s pretty much the only one that drinks the blue. Honestly, he’s a little obsessive about it. Well, let’s see how much he likes it with… let’s say a hefty amount of citric acid in there.”

“Oh no,” Leo couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out as he watched Logan unscrew the cap and dump more citric acid than should ever be consumed into the Gatorade. He gave the bottle a shake and placed it over by someone’s gym bag.

“And now we wait,” he grinned and wagged his eyebrows at the camera suggestively as the clip cut out.

Leo didn’t hesitate for a second before clicking on the last video Logan had sent, from the timestamp only a few minutes ago. This clip was a little different, Logan was no longer holding the camera; he must have propped his phone up against an unused weight plate as Leo could now see the rest of the weight room. There were now several more people there using various machines, Leo’s eyes instantly snapped to where Logan was off to the side doing deadlifts, he had to stop himself from gasping aloud at the sight. Tearing his eyes away from Logan to glance at the others, he spotted none other than Sirius Black standing and chatting with a slightly shorter man with a mop of curly brown hair and thin wire framed glasses. The two were near where Logan had placed the contaminated Gatorade bottle. As they talked the man with glasses, who Leo assumed must be James, reached down and snagged the bottle. Leo cringed in anticipation as he watched James laugh carelessly at something Sirius said then finally bring the bottle up to his lips.

James had taken the biggest gulp imaginable of the sour liquid and Leo watched the exact moment his very soul left his body as it hit tongue. What happened next must have only been milliseconds but Leo still could see as James face first went green, then ghostly pale, his eyes wide and panicked before he sprayed the drink directly into Sirius’s face.

Leo was laughing so hard he wasn’t even making noise anymore just clutching his stomach and shaking from it as he watched James drop to his knees and spit trying to get the sour taste out of his mouth while Sirius was spluttering in disgust. In the background Leo could hear the rest of the guys in the weight room laughing just as hysterically. Suddenly, Logan's face came into frame just as the video ended.

“What was that about?”

Leo glanced up at Fabian who had settled next to him to unlace his own skates. Still trying to suppress his laughter, Leo just shook his head, “nothing, just a friend doing something stupid.”

“Yeah? You know, I think that was the first time I’ve seen you actually laugh like that.”

“That’s not true,” Leo immediately shot back, “I laugh all the time, it’s not my fault you aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

Fabian made a scandalized face and put a hand over his heart, “Ouch, that hurt. I am mildly offended. I am a hoot.”

Leo scoffed at that.

“And besides I’m talking like actually laughing, not that polite little chuckle you do.”

Just then Leo felt his phone buzz in his hand, when he glanced down he nearly choked at the image waiting for him. Logan had taken off his shirt, revealing his entire chest and torso glistening in a sheen of sweat leftover from his workout, his curls were fluffing out from under the edges of his snapback and he had his face scrunched up like he was laughing super hard. The caption ‘I Won’ was written across the image, in the background Leo could just see both James and Sirius glaring daggers at him.

“Is that this ‘friend’ that seems able to make you laugh uncontrollably?” Fabian asked leaning over to sneak a peek at the picture.

“Hmm, yeah,” Leo answered, his eyes still roving over the image of Logan on his screen, a soft smile pulled at his lips, “this is Logan,” he turned the screen a bit showing Fabian.

“Wait, Logan? As in Logan Tremblay? From the Lions?”

Leo simply nodded.

“From that look on your face I take it he has something to do with everything you’ve had going on lately?”

He nodded again.

Fabian chuckled and leaned down to pull off his skates, “Well, hurry up and get changed then you can tell me all about him, and Finn.”

Leo rolled his eyes fondly but slipped his phone back into his bag and began pulling off his own skates. It wasn’t long before the two of them, now clad in their street clothes, had made their way to Polaris Coffee claiming a cozy booth in the corner to chat.

Leo wrapped his hands around his drink, the heat bleeding through the ceramic into his palms. He couldn’t help but think back to the last time he had sat in this coffee shop, a different redhead smiling at him across the table. Fabian was almost uncharacteristically quiet, evidently waiting for Leo to feel comfortable enough to share the things that have been on his mind over the past weeks.

“So…” Leo began not entirely sure where to start.

“So…” Fabian mimicked raising his eyebrows teasingly, making Leo laugh. A bit of tension bled out of him as he took a sip of his coffee, he let the warm rich flavor wash over his tongue and calm his nerves.

“I think I’m falling in love with my roommate… and his best friend,” Leo said, jumping straight into the heart of the matter. And just like that it was like a dam breaking, words tumbled out of Leo’s mouth as he told Fabian about his time with Finn and Logan. He glossed over the parts about his past, but he told him about every subtle look, every gentle brush of fingertips, and sweet embrace. By the time he had run out of words Leo’s heart ached with the knowledge that he was utterly fucked by the intensity of his feelings for these two.

“You know,” Fabian started setting his mug down with a soft clunk on the table, “to me it sounds these people mean a lot to you, I’m honestly not seeing a problem here.”

Leo sighed and flopped back against the booth, his head knocking against the wooden part, “They really do, and well, I guess it’s not so much of a problem as just a bit complicated. I mean I like them, both of them. But Finn and Logan have this… thing between them. Like I get the vibe that they like each other, but then there’s moments with each of them that makes me think just maybe they like me. I just… I don’t know Fab.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” Fabian asked, “Like I know that sounds like the cliché answer but honestly, I think that’s really the only way you’ll be able to know how either of them are actually feeling. About you, and about each other.”

Leo snagged his mug off the table and took a sip before replying, “I know,” he sighed. “I know I need to talk to them. I don’t think it’ll be bad with Finn, from what I’ve seen so far he’s pretty open with his thoughts but Logan, Logan will be a challenge.”

Fabian shot him a sympathetic look at that, “Well, I’m always here for moral support,” he raised his mug in a little salute.

Leo chuckled and rolled his eyes but clinked his own mug against it before taking another sip of his drink.

Read on ao3

Chapter 22 Chapter 24

[imnotwolverine]

A special request

Henry Cavill x reader oneshot

Word count: 1.566 (it was supposed to a drabble mkey?) 

Disclaimer: just fluff

Summary: One of your fanfiction stories has made it to the silver screen, starring Henry as your lead. During a talkshow the two of you meet for the first time and fluffy awkwardness ensues. 

Author’s note: I dreamed this last night and I swear I was still blushing by the time I woke up - woops. 

‘Welcome, welcome Henry! Do sit down.’ The applause slowly died down as Henry sat down, smiling at Graham.

‘Thank you. Thanks for having me Graham.’

‘Now. I’d like to kick in this door straight away. We have a little surprise for you.’

‘A surprise? Okay.. haha’ Henry smiled, raising an eyebrow at the audience.

‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’re not going to kidnap you or anything.’ The audience laughed. ‘Now! You’re currently touring for your newest film and we found something that probably would..eh..tickle your fancy.’

‘You did?’ Henry gave a hesitant look at Graham.

‘Before we bring out the surprise, I’m curious; you received the script, which was based on a fanfiction..about you. Did you ever get to read the original story? The fan written one?’

‘I..did..actually. Wait. Please don’t tell me you’ve managed to get her here.’

‘Well..’ Graham shrugged and snickered happily. ‘..time to see for yourself.’ Graham jumped up from his chair and gestured his team to bring in “the present”.

Squinting your eyes and laughing hesitantly you walked up the stage - near losing your footing as you were to occupied with the bright hot lights that shone at the red couch. Meanwhile Henry looked over his shoulder at his “present” and it was clear to anyone he was struck with confusion.

Wait. THIS was the writer?

Graham was first to shake hands with you, allowing Henry some time to quickly scramble up to his feet.

‘Hello dear! So good to have you here and welcome to the Graham Norton show!’ The audience applauded happily as you grinned, your eye soon to land on a slightly flabbergasted Henry.

‘Hi.’ You giggled.

‘Uh..hi.’ Henry outstretched both arms, pulling you in for an awkward hug, leaving you no time to even register what was happening.

Graham chuckled and sat back down, twisting in his chair while you and Henry quickly took your place on the couch, a blush on both your cheeks.

‘So! SURPRISE!’ Graham smiled, flailing out his hands and near throwing his cards in the excitement.

‘This is..a surprise for sure.’ Henry breathed, looking back over at you.

‘First impressions?’ Graham cooed, seeing the nervous but curious looks the two of you shared.

‘Eh…damn you are way bigger than I had expected.’ You blurted out, laughing giddily. ‘I guess pictures DO only tell half the story.’

Henry laughed shyly, looking at his knees for a short moment before he looked back up at you, intrigued by what he saw.

‘Thanks..I guess? And as for me..well..I’ve never seen a picture of you or anything. So I must admit my imagination had run a little wild on what ..you..would look like.’

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised: ‘But you have thought about it? Wow. So do you always do that when reading someone’s story?’ You turned slightly, folding your arm over the backrest and pulling up a leg to get more comfortable.

‘Eh…’ Henry’s mind blanked for a moment as his eyes quickly flicked back and forth between Graham and you.

‘Admittedly..no.’ He licked his lips, looking at the audience for a slight as he continued. ‘I..guess this is a good moment to admit that I have read your work. All of your work. And I read your stories WAY before my agent even sent me that script.’

‘Really? Oh…’ Your face flushed bright red at the thought - all those paper thin plot lines to indulge in pure Henry smut? Yes. He read all of them.

Henry smiled, also leaning back on the sofa and moving an arm over the back rest - near mirroring your pose.

‘I really liked them.’ He said matter of factly, searching for eye contact with you. You smiled awkwardly and the fact the audience was “awe”-ing right now, didn’t help much in making the situation any less awkward.

‘Ha..That’s..good. Good. Wow I hadn’t expected that.’ You resumed, sitting up a bit and looking at Henry. He smiled warmly.

‘Okay. Maybe for the audience: just to kind of …share a little intel here.’ You looked at the audience. ‘I write fanfiction that includes what you best can describe as ..porn? With him being one of my regular characters. So. Yes. This is.. strange.’

The audience let out a loud chuckle, some people wooing.

‘Yea..well I’m glad they picked the romcom story to be filmed. Otherwise I might have had to make a career switch.’ Henry shrugged, grinning at the thought. You laughed.

‘Yea..even movie magic would have a hard time translating that in a PG-13 kind of way.’

The two of you snickered and Graham finally leaned back in.

‘Now Henry. You HAVE read all of her material. And you say you DID have some ideas on what she’d look like. I am probably not the only curious about what it is you were expecting?!’ The audience agreed with Graham and you also shrugged, admitting the curiosity was there.

Henry gave an exasperated look at the audience, then directed his attention back at you.

‘Well. Let’s first of all say I definitely didn’t expect anything close to what you look like, so bear with me. From the stories you wrote I could distill that you were at least medium height, probably dark or red haired and I figured you’d have green eyes since your first stories included a lot of characters with green eyes.’

‘Well, you got that right.’ You shrugged, seeing Henry hesitate.

‘I however didn’t expect you to be this…pretty? Eh..goodness this really puts me in the spot now, doesn’t it?’ Henry smiled awkwardly, hoping you wouldn’t get mad.

You however didn’t mind. If anything this was pure gold for your smutty heart.

‘Thank you…Hmm..Gosh this makes the whole situation even more weird. But I guess I could have expected as much. A few weeks ago someone reached out through my DM’s, asking if I wanted to be part of this show. I initially thought someone was pulling my leg. But alas. I got curious. Asked for their contact info. Contacted them. And yes. This was REAL…and now I’m HERE. With you! Life is so weird.’ You rambled, shaking your head in slight disbelief.

‘Well I’m glad you accepted the offer. It’s ..truly nice to meet you. For real now. Not just by reading your work.’

You smiled. ‘It’s nice to meet you too…Henry’ He grinned and you finally, finally dared to take a real, close look at him.

‘You really are one handsome man. Yeeus. In my mind you had like..some medium okay skin, some hair out of place and perhaps a crooked tooth or something. You don’t however. And your eyes are SO much more blue than I had expected. And that heterochromia..’ You gawked in amazement. ‘..okay..now I’m really just babbling. Sorry.’ You sniffled and quickly reached for the glass of wine that stood forlorn on the table.

Henry smiled and followed your movements with quiet curiosity. What he was thinking? Nobody knew.

Graham had been uncharacteristically quiet for some time now and was leaning in to intervene, but decided against it, sitting back in his chair. There was something going on between the two of you that was close to actual real chemistry. Sparks flying and all.

You noticed Graham’s hesitance and gave him a questioning look.

‘Oh please continue.’ Graham smiled, folding his hands in his lap like an excited school kid.

‘Eh okay..’ You turned your attention back to Henry, his blue eyes studying you. A giddy smile tugged on both your lips.

‘So do you write from own experiences?’ He asked.

‘I guess I do. Pretty much everything I write does come from my perspective, my experiences. Though of course..I fill in a lot too. Like..characterising you.’

‘I thought you characterised me pretty well.’ Henry smiled, seeing another shy blush cross over your cheeks.

‘Really?’

‘So much so that I maybe..saved some of your stories on my phone just so I could read them when I need it. Like…’ Henry pulled a face. ‘..like when I am feeling a bit lonely I’ll read the romcom stuff. When I’m fed up or annoyed some of the short stories - love your Geralt work - and when I’m a bit horny..well….’ The audience laughed. ‘Yea. It’s quite unique to be able to read porn about..yourself.’

‘Oh gods.’ You shrunk away a bit as Henry offered you a cheeky smile.

‘It’s…really good.’ Henry gave you a warm, unapologetic smile as you quickly drew in a breath, calming your nerves.

‘Dearness me. In a way you are fanboying over my work and I am fangirling over your work. And that’s all fun and games till you actually meet each other. Are we like…each others fans?’ You asked.

Henry’s smile grew as he tilted his head.

‘I guess we are, hmmm.’ Henry smiled, thinking.

‘Yep.’ You nodded, also somewhat lost in thought.

A quiet moment snuck in as you both took on a pensive expression.

...

‘He—.’ ‘Heyy.’ You both spoke simultaneously.

‘Ladies first.’ Henry quickly added.

You smiled: ‘If you have any special requests…I mean..I’d gladly…write..for you.’ With every word you became more confused, seeing Henry burst out in laughter, shoulders shaking.

‘That was just what I was about to ask.’

‘Hmm? Really?’

‘Really.’ He smiled, leaning in slightly. ‘First request. How about ..a first date?’

[xlovelybeanx]

✭ This show has completely wrecked my mental game up - so you know what I have to say to that?

...

✭Let’s write cute fan fiction about it in hopes that it’ll cure the sadness right out! (I doubt it..I have been crying over it for the past few months.)

✭Spoilers ahead! If you have not seen past episode 9, please do not read. If you still wanna read, that’s completely fine <3!

✭Also this is my first time writing something like this! I hope you guys like it.

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Title: “Smile, my sunshine.”

Ship: AshEiji

Summary: Ash’s mind had been torn apart from that night - the night where he had to do such a disgraceful thing to his best friend - and has been restless ever since. Luckily, Eiji knows the right way to keep him happy.

WARNING: This is a tickle fic! There are mentions of death, and grief. Please be mindful when reading! Also, art doesn’t belong to me. (I wish I could draw like that.)

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“Oi, Ash.”

Eiji pounded on his door once more, his tone growing frustrated with every time he had to come back and pound on this stupid door. The frown on his face was clear to see from miles away and his eyes were narrowed so low that he was afraid that he might end up breaking the door with how intense he was staring at it.

There would be no need for him to feel this way if somebody - Ash Lynx - would actually get up and go on with his day. Of course, if Eiji was in that situation, he wouldn’t want to get out of bed either - but Ash couldn’t act like the world was ending. He had to live on because life was ... just worth living.

And because somebody made breakfast, Eiji thought angrily to himself before grabbing the knob and twisting it harshly. Walking into the younger male’s room, everything looked ... almost perfect. Bed was made, curtains were semi-open, and the rest of his stuff was laying in a neat pile - just the way Eiji liked it.

But that lead the question - where was Ash?

Eiji almost went to call out his name, but stopped as he heard the soft trickle of water coming from the shower. Slowly making his way to the sound, he opened the door to find a sleep deprived child sitting in the tub with only his black underwear on. ... the elder’s eyes almost filled with pity. Walking over, the black haired boy tried to figure out what’s going on.

“Ash, talk to me.. did you get any sleep last night?” he asked, petting the top of his head softly. The blonde shook his head, a blank stare still stuck on his face.

“I couldn’t,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with a force that was even surprising to him. “...I c-couldn’t.. think about anything but him, Eiji...” the younger broke down in sobs, covering his face with his hands, feeling the soft patter of water on the back of his hands. It somehow seemed to comfort him, if only a little.

It would make sense that he didn’t get over Shorter’s death that quickly. But to think, for a guy to be almost broken over something he watches everyday - it tugged at the black haired boy’s heartstrings in a way that nothing has ever done before.

“...you should’ve just talked to me,” Eiji mumbled into his ear, closing his eyes as he rested his head on his shoulder. “I’m here for that reason, you know.” Ash looked up, his jade green eyes filled with an indescribable pain.

“I know..” he said, wiping the last of his tears on his wrist. The other nudged Ash’s arm and pointed toward the door. “...why don’t we cuddle so you can fall asleep?” He immediately shook his head. He looked as if he was going to die if he fell asleep - hence him sitting in the tub and hoping that it kept him awake.

“I’m not leaving you in the tub.” He crossed his arms, standing back up. The other leaned against the wall, blinking a couple of times to force himself to stay awake. Ash immediately looked up at him - there was a bright aura coming from him, as if he was the embodiment of sunshine itself. The other exhaled quickly, standing up with shaky legs. “..woah! Woah, careful now,” Eiji said, grabbing on to Ash’s arms when it seemed like he was going to fall.

“...I’m okay,” he said as he wrapped an arm around him. “Sit down,” Eiji ordered him as he sat on a seat they keep in their room. The younger obliged, reluctantly, watching as he got a towel from the bathroom and started drying his hair.

“...you’re depressed about ..it, aren’t you?”

The question caught Ash by surprise.

“...of course I am. .. he’s always been my best friend - I don’t think I’d be who I am without him. ...but when I saw you getting attacked by him, I knew I couldn’t just.. sit there and do nothing. I-It was so hard to pull the trigger. ..I almost couldn’t do it..” before he had realized it, the gang leader had been throwing out his feelings to the boy who stuck by him the entire time. “...I know I didn’t know Shorter that well,” Eiji started, finishing with his hair and moving down to his body. “...but I could tell how much he meant to you. Probably much more than me,” he said jokingly, hoping to brighten the mood. The blonde’s expression hadn’t changed from the sad frown he had on since he shot Shorter.

... what could I do to make him laugh, Eiji thought as he continued drying. Then he hit across something - something spectacular - and if it was true, well, maybe he would be able to get Ash out of this depressive situation that held him hostage.

“Ash~?”

“Eiji,” he mumbled, trying to be snarky and failing.

“Can I do something?”

“...sure, go ahead,” the blonde yawned as he stretched upwards, his whole body arching into the best stretch he’s ever had. This is when he took the time to seize his opportunity.

Eiji’s fingers travelled directly to his ribs, soft and delicate not to hurt him but to drive him wild with laughter instead. The reaction was instantaneous; Ash let out an unmanly squeak while one arm shot down to protect himself, the other to cover his mouth.

“...ohohokay, mind explaining that noise, Ash?” Eiji couldn’t keep himself from laughing like an idiot - the gang leader’s face was entirely red and he shook it, unable to say anything at the moment.

“Playing the strong, silent type, eh? Lucky for you, I win tickle fights with my sister all the time so I’m prepared. But the real question is, are you?” From Ash being so weak from not sleeping all night, he was actually quite surprised when the elder picked him up to the best of his ability and threw him on the bed, sitting on his waist with a snarky grin on his face.

“Ash, say, do you think you can smile? Just for me?”

“...please don’t,” Ash mumbled, his eyes closed and his whole face bright red - he didn’t want to know what came next.

“Don’t what?”

“Tickle me!”

Eiji’s grin only widened as the boy fell right into his trap. This is exactly where he wanted him to be - and he was playing right into it, too.

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

And so 10 fingers descended on the blonde’s poor ribs, ever so gently scraping across each and every singular rib.

“..h-hey! Waihihihit-! Stahahahap that-! N-No!” Hysterical giggles poured out of the blonde’s mouth. Eiji was so surprised by his squeaky laughter that he almost just stopped tickling him to begin with - ...he found it honestly quite cute. The way his head was thrown back, the bright red blush on his face.. it was so cute.

“...oh? What’s wrong? Does it tickle? How badly? On a scale from 1-10?” The teasing tone dripped with every word he said, and it didn’t stop there. “..broken already? My little sister can handle more than you. Beaten by a girl? Seriously? That’s pretty frustrating isn’t it?”

And it made it 100 times worse.

“CUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOUT! EIHIHIJI! F-FUHUHUCK! STAHAHAP!” The blonde was now squirming profusely, shutting his eyes tightly as tears pricked on the corners. Oh god, what had he found himself into it? Him? Tickled to death by the weakest, most kind, most gullible person he knows? That’s just unfair at that point.

“..hmm, I wonder what happens here.” Eiji quickly stuck his hands underneath of his arms, expecting a small reaction. The reaction he got was anything but small.

Ash shrieked, his hands collapsing on his most sensitive spot and trapping his friend’s hands there. Eiji’s eyes widened in surprise, smirking along with his friend who was basically getting tortured in front of him. “Ah, Ash, ...I can’t do anything when you trap my hands like that, you know. You have to get them out.” He said, wiggling his fingers faster.

“YOHOHOHOHO BIHIHIHITCH! FUHUHUHUHUHUCK!! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“...hmm, let’s see, are you happy yet?”

“YEHEHEHEHES! FOHOHOR GOHOHOHODS SAHAHAHAKE, YEHEHES!”

“... and are you gonna come straight to bed so you get enough sleep?”

“I CAHAHAHANT- I HAHAHAHAVE A JOHOHOHOB!”

Eiji dug his fingers into his friend’s underarms, furrowing his eyebrows. Ash jerked, throwing his head back once more as his whole body shook with ticklish agony.

“I said... ‘are you gonna come straight to bed so you can get enough sleep?’”

“FIHIHIHIHINE! WHAHAHAHATEHEHVER! NOHOHOW PLEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP!”

And just like he said, the other stopped with no hesitation, leaving a bright red teary-eyed man laying there, gasping for breath. “...w-whahat.. the hell, Eiji..” he mumbled, covering his face.

“Your laugh is quite cute,” Eiji said softly into his ear. “...Don’t expect me to forget about this~!” The other laid down on the bed, pulling the blonde to his chest as he pet the back of his head, watching him melt into his touches as if he were some sort of animal.

“..can I ask you a selfish favor, Eiji?” Ash whispered, burying his face within his chest. The other nodded, smiling softly.

“...stay.. by my side. Please.”

“You don’t have to worry- even if the world turns it’s back on you, I’ll stay by your side. Forever.” Ash slowly closed his eyes, drifting into a peaceful sleep as he felt satisfied with the answer he got. Eiji leaned down and gave him a kiss on his forehead - something he’ll forget when he wakes up but something Eiji will treasure forever.

“.... always smile, my sunshine.”

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Hope you enjoyed this! I’ll be doing more in the future when I get more confident. .. thank you for reading! <3.

[writefinch]

The Prince’s Offering, Pt.4

Between the strong wine, the strange tea, and the determined girls, he could not even mount a token resistance. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to overwhelm him, hoping that the playing of the miniature harp would mask his not-wholly-masculine gasps of appreciation. After rising a second time, Mido's technique changed from allowing him to luxuriate in her throat to something more rhythmic, bobbing her head up and down, her hand wrapping around his shaft wherever her mouth left it, lavishing attention on the tip, and mashing her lips against his pubic bone at the bottom of each stroke.

Davai felt something wet on his chin. He touched his hand to the spot and realized that he'd let a line of drool spill from his lips, and felt mortified. He looked up and hoped that nobody else had noticed it, and saw that both of the other men present were quite well distracted themselves.

Thom the Brigand had the wine girl sitting on his lap. For a moment it appeared as if her cock had burst free of its gilded cage, but Davai saw that it was actually Thom's cock sticking up through her thighs. It was monstrously, unpleasantly thick, thick enough that Davai would struggle to wrap his hand around it, and from the way it jutted up out of Ehsan's legs it was at least eight inches in length. The girl had coated her thighs in olive oil and was crossing her ankles to create a tight fit, and from below Thom thrust up and into it, treating the gap as he would a cunt. He was nuzzling her hair from the back, and she stroked the tip of his knob with her fingertips as he fucked her.

Karim was indulging in a pleasure far simpler; Tabitha had mounted him and rolled her hips up and down as he fucked her. She moaned wantonly and without shame as his cock pumped in and out of her sex, caressing his face and lavishing him with kisses. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face was a mask of concentration, only slowing his thrusts to return a particularly passionate kiss.

"Close your eyes," Bahar whispered.

He obeyed. The two girls shifted ever so slightly without stopping their attentions, and something subtly changed. While they certainly hadn't been fighting against each other before, now it felt as if they were working as one mind, each stroke of his chest and lick of his shaft working in harmony, and their actions were now building to a crescendo. His hips flicked up almost of their own accord, and he knew he could not hold out much longer.

Bahar turned his head to the side and kissed him forcefully, slipping her tongue between his lips. He had been kissed like this once before in his life as a young man whose voice had barely broken, at a noble gathering a hundred miles west of his own lands with a knight's maiden daughter. Apart from the kiss they had done little more than paw at each other in a darkened hallway of the estate, but he still thought of that girl in his lonelier moments, and the lust-induced guilt brought on by it had driven him to confession more times than he cared to count.

There certainly hadn't been a second girl giving suck to him at the same time, back then.

He threw himself into the kiss, ripping off Bahar's veil, grabbing her hair, and pushing his tongue into her mouth in return. It spurred her on and seemed to spur Mido on, but he could go no further. He broke the kiss, biting his bottom lip as he came, filling Mido's mouth with his seed. Bahar pushed his face into her bosom as he rode out his climax.

Some time later, he felt the girl's lips leave his cock. Bahar disentangled herself, replaced her veil, and began to straighten Davai's effects—starting by tucking his half-hard and rather sensitive cock back into his stockings. Davai looked around in a daze. Thom and Karim had apparently finished already and were now half-dozing on their pillows with their lovers curled up next to them. He saw Mido holding a wooden cup, her cheeks bulging out—embarrassment and a strange pride mixed within him as he saw how thoroughly he had filled her mouth—before turning away from him to spit his seed into the cup.

With nothing else apparent to do, he joined the others and rested in Bahar's arms for a short while. He did not fall asleep, and after a few minutes all three men had composed themselves somewhat. Tabitha looked at Davai, looked at Karim with a devilish grin, and whispered something into Karim's ear.

Karim chided her gently. "Tabitha, you broody vixen, do not talk of our guest as if he is not in front of us!"

Davai looked at him intending to say something, but his mind was utterly blank. Karim only chuckled in return.

"Tabitha and I wish to know what you think of our hospitality, so far," he said, a look of sheepish amusement on his face.

"Unusual." Davai blinked. "Invigorating, pleasurable, perhaps a little... confusing to my provincial mind, but thoroughly delightful. As exciting as anything I have experienced without a sword in my hand in a score of years, and I do not know if anything from my own lands will surpass it in another score."

Karim beamed, and seemed genuinely happy at his words. "It warms my heart to hear it. My people's peculiar forms of hospitality have not always been to the taste of Western peoples, or certain peoples in the Near East for that matter, though the Mughals always did appreciate them."

Davai chuckled softly. "If I am honest—and I pray that I do not stray into impertinence—I am surprised to be found worthy of the impressions. I am here to give gifts and tribute after all, not to receive them, and I have a far greater need to impress well upon you than the Great Empire does to impress well upon me."

Thom did a half-snicker-snort that Davai found irritating, but Karim listened and nodded, and for a moment he seemed contemplative. "If I am truly honest I had not considered such a view," he said, "but I can see how such a view would arise."

"It is of no real consequence, I think," said Davai.

Karim shook his head. "No, I think it is worth consideration, truly, and if you wish I could provide some perspective you may find enlightening."

"Certainly, I would be grateful."

"In this case I do not aim to provide my own perspective, or even the perspective of my people, but here I wish to outline the world in the way that the Great Empire—through its generals, its administrators, and perhaps even the Great Emperor himself—seems to view it." He paused. “Hmm. Pray tell, do you know how many men were slain in the Great Emperor's first conquest?"

"I confess I do not. Four thousand, perhaps?"

"A few men fewer than that," said Karim with a smile. "Just under a dozen."

"Truly?" Davai's eyebrows shot up. "Was it a hamlet he conquered?"

"That is not far from the truth. The Great Emperor's first conquest was that of a band of the Yurchid, a rival tribe of nomads on the endless steppes. When a fifth of their fighting men had fallen, they surrendered. Do you know what happened to the women and children of the Yurchid after their surrender?"

"Nothing pleasant, I'd wager," he answered, recalling the tales of the serving girls.

"You would lose that wager, Lord Davai. The surviving Yurchid men were married off to Mughal women, the Yurchid women were married off to Mughal men, every child was given a place in the combined tribe, and a portion of loot from every raid was set aside for provision of the widows and orphans."

Davai blinked. "That does... not match the tales I have heard of Imperial conquest, if I am honest."

"No, no it does not. There are reasons for this." Karim looked pensive, even weary. "The Great Emperor was not a title our ruler inherited, and if he was born into it in the theological sense it was not a title anyone acknowledged until many years into his life. The Brilliant Horde and the Mughal Nation did not exist as recently as when I still knew the taste of mother's milk. They were scores upon scores of nomadic bands drawn from the eight tribes of the steppe, the larger ones numbering a dozen grosses, the smaller ones little more than moveable hamlets.

"The Great Emperor conquered that first Yurchid band not out of avarice or bloodlust, but because their raids and thefts threatened to drive his own people to privation. He had himself been raised by a widow and cruelly driven out of a conquered tribe as a child, and he had seen how the miserly treatment of all but the leader's most trusted men weakened a tribe as a crack weakens an anvil. It kindled within him a determination to never let such things come to his own people, and in doing this his people grew strong.

"The combined band caught the eye and ire of greater tribes on the steppes, and so his second, third and fourth conquests were necessary to prevent a more vicious attack from his rivals. As the Mughal tribe grew, their needs could no longer be satisfied through the mere raiding of caravans and redistribution of conquered wealth, and so they attacked the border towns of the Old Eastern Kingdoms. Where the old steppes tribes could chance a raid to steal some unguarded livestock and ungleaned crops before being turned away by well-armed militias, the Great Emperor's attacks took towns wholesale, looted everything in sight, and drove away refugees with nothing more than what they could carry in their arms.

"When the kings of those places caught word of this, they tried to bribe his rival nomads to destroy the Great Emperor, but their attempts were too late, and he soon had all of the tribes of the steppe united under one banner. That is when the conquest of the Old Eastern Kingdoms began." He paused to sip his tea. "Did you know of this tale?"

"I knew the Great Empire came from the steppes, but little else."

Karim nodded. "They learned much as they conquered the Old Eastern Kingdoms. Their enemies had only experienced Mughal tactics as robberies, never as a battle to the death, and on the open field none could resist the Brilliant Horde. Walled cities stymied them but for a brief time; they used the great administrative wonders of the kingdoms to their advantage and kidnapped engineers and architects with every raid. Cities found themselves withering under siege engines designed by the kingdom's own minds and built by the forced labour of fleeing refugees.

"Distance became a challenge. Though the Brilliant Horde had no vast supply trains and could live off the land almost indefinitely, it took longer and longer to return their loot to the felt tent cities of the Mughal steppes. It had become an inconvenience and a liability to leave razed and abandoned cities in their wake. What they required were obedient cities, not of the Mughal tribe, but loyal to their conquerors. The Great Emperor's most faithful general even suggested the manner of the cautious caravans who would preemptively give gifts to the tribes of the steppes to avert more determined raids.

"They surrounded a great and ancient city of the Old Eastern Kingdoms and told them to send forth their most eminent scholar, Sudong Po. In their fear the city's rulers rushed him out of the gates, where he was brought to the Great Emperor's tent. The Great Emperor explained his proposal to Sudong Po, and asked how he could make such a thing come to pass. Sudong Po replied that the Old Eastern Kingdoms knew the tribes of the steppes to be unlettered horsemen who squabbled over goats and barely venerated their ancestors, and would therefore never obey the spoken word of a Mughal chieftain.

"The Great Emperor was not satisfied with this answer, and so Sudong Po was rolled up in a rug and beaten with sticks until he could provide a better one. Chastened, Sudong Po told the Great Emperor that although many of the rulers of the kingdoms were weak and depraved, the strength of their rule derived from the administrative system of scribes and magistrates, and from respect for the written word of law.

"This answer was most satisfactory to the Great Emperor, who had Sudong Po concoct and write out the Mughal Law. From thereon out, any city which immediately surrendered to the Brilliant Horde was peaceably brought under Mughal Law and given the protection of empire in return for tithe. Any city which resisted was brought into the empire only after its rulers had been slain and replaced. This arrangement went well, for a time."

Davai nodded, listening intently. "The Brilliant Horde traveled to the Near East after that, I take it?"

"Yes, yes. The Near East presented a new problem. Like the Old Eastern Kingdoms, they knew of the nomads of the steppes and saw them as incapable of conquest—a notion they were soon disabused of—and as incapable of rule. This second notion proved harder to dispel. The Caliphs of the Near East did not derive law merely from the written word, but from true holy law as laid out by the Prophet, peace be upon him, and debated by clerics. You could replace a conquered ruler but you could not place in a new system of laws and have it wholly accepted; at best it would be seen as a supplement to holy law and at worst there were many wretched emirs and caliphs who paid no attention to their own laws let alone those of a foreign empire.

Karim opened his mouth and closed it. There seemed to be a touch of sorrow in his eyes. "There was... much was lost. Cities would surrender to the Great Empire only to withdraw tribute and attack imperial forces from the rear. Worse, some conquered cities whose rulers had been replaced saw their new rulers turn on the empire. Every city that did this was razed to the ground and had its people driven out with nothing. A city I had once visited on the Tigris had a grand library which was said to contain one million texts. One million! The Great Empire conquered the city once and were forced to conquer it a second time, and on the second occasion they cast every book in that library into the Tigris until it ran black with ink.

"Such rebellion ceased after the death of the Great Emperor's grandson at the hands of a traitor city. Not only was this city razed, but every living being within it was slain. For one hundred days the smell of burning corpses hung over the whole of the Near East, and the uprisings ended. The Near Eastern mind does not work solely on reverence and ceremony but on logic and true faith. Once consequences of their actions became apparent, their actions changed."

Karim paused again to sip his tea, then turned to one of the serving girls. "My dear, would you fetch another tray of sweetmeats."

"Of course, Master," the girl replied.

"Go and rouse the dog handlers also, it is almost time for their daily training," he added as she left. He turned back to Davai. "Now where was I... Ah, next they came to the West, and I must say, Lord Davai, that your people were an interesting puzzle for the Great Empire."

"In what manner?" Davai asked.

"In one sense, you are not a nomadic people who can be inducted into a conquering horde, you have no system of law that could match the thousands upon thousands of bureaucrats and scholars of the Far East, and your own internecine conflicts are as bloody as anything the Mughals did to the great cities of Persia and Arabia. What's more, you are not a land of ancient wonders or vast riches, and so each horseman of the Great Empire who falls in battle is a dearer loss."

"It hardly seems worth the effort, if I am honest."

Karim nodded. "Some in the Great Empire have argued that very point, yes. But there is another difference: apart from the farthest-flung borderlands of Rus, your people never knew the Mughals as anything other than an unstoppable force with fulminating powders and bizarre siege engines, whose emissaries travel on palanquins dressed in the wealth of a hundred nations, and who seem fated to conquer not only the known world but to discover and conquer the rest of the world too.

"You are a hard people to frighten and a hard people to persuade, but you are not a hard people to impress. The Great Empire's power does not appear cruel or mercurial—as many of your own rulers do—but it can be resisted little more than the will of Allah, and though its tithes seem dear, it provides a gateway to great riches should peace be made. This is why the Great Empire has placed such emphasis not on the unspeakable cruelties of a Catholic torturer or the reasoning of the ancient scholars in its domination of the West, but on submission: rulers who oppose us must be torn out at the root and have their bloodline rendered utterly inconsequential, and rulers who bow to us must demonstrate that the Great Emperor is feared and venerated more than any oath, king, or pope. The Great Empire does not aim to simply conquer the West, Davai. It seeks to awe you." Karim sat back on his cushion, smiling softly, with a strange look in his eye. The serving girl returned and placed a new tray of brightly-coloured candied squares on the table.

Davai thought for a moment. "I appreciate you telling me this, Sir Karim," he said, "though I wonder why you would explain these mysteries so comprehensively before impressing upon me the value of uncomprehending awe."

Before Karim could reply, Thom the Brigand burst out laughing. It was a hoarse, rough, ugly laugh that grated on Davai's ears. "But you haven't comprehended it, Young Lord!" Thom brayed. "You've yet to understand any of it."

Davai turned to him with genuine anger. "Explain it to me then, or keep your slobber-slicked lips shut," he snapped.

Thom's grin nauseated him. "I will explain later, lord, do not worry your pretty little head about it."

Before Davai could respond, they were interrupted by the entry of eight men into the room. They were Mughal soldiers, short and stocky with shaved heads, wide smiles and bow-legged gaits of a lifelong horse rider, but they carried no arms and wore no armor. They did not even wear the heavy fur deels that every Mughal dressed in, and were instead clad in thin linen gowns. Davai felt cold panic grip his innards, but the men did not approach him or even seem to notice him, instead making their way to the dais at the back of the room.

"Lord Davai, I honestly do not know of what your companion speaks," said Karim, catching his attention, "but I do have an example of what I spoke of before. You see, in my old life I held two jobs. I ran a brothel, a task I mostly enjoyed, and I worked as a torturer, a task I mostly did not. In my new life I combine these roles, providing lavish hospitality for those who appreciate it, and providing discipline for those who require it."

The Mughal men lit two standing torches at the back of the dais, bathing it in orange light. The throne and dog statues were clearly illuminated now, and it truly seemed as if the statues were twitching. Pasha stopped playing the harp, the low moaning of the wind returning, still audible over the bustle of the men. One of the Mughals crouched down next to a hound statue, took hold of its cast iron face, and removed it.

Davai blinked for a moment, frozen in place, unable to understand why the metal statue had a human face, flesh and blood under a metal mask. In quick succession the other seven men unmasked the other seven faces.

There were eight faces, human faces, with pale, clammy skin and pink cheeks. Their eyes were hidden under kidskin blindfolds, a thick metal hook attached to twine pulled their nostrils up into a porcine grimace, and their mouths were forced open with a metal ring wrapped in leather. Their chins were slick with their own spit, which dribbled out from their open mouths to form puddles on the floor below. The noise of the wind changed, and Davai realized with horror that it was never the wind at all, but instead the moans of these poor souls muffled through iron masks.

"What in God's name is this?" snapped Davai, his stomach twisting in disgust and fear.

"Oh, the daughter of a knight, a squire, one of the Old Duke's bastards, perhaps two but I can't recall, a merchant's heiress, some or other maiden..." Karim said offhandedly. He saw the expression on Davai's face and rolled his eyes. "Calm yourself, Lord Davai, I assure you that not one of these miscreants came to this keep willingly, and none even approach your station."

"A knight's daughter is still a noble, and a squire is not far off," Davai said through gritted teeth.

Karim shook his head. "You misunderstand, it is not your status as a lord I refer to now, but your role as an emissary. The harshest sanctions of Mughal law are reserved for those who harm the messenger or the diplomat; cities have been razed for less."

Davai settled down, but not by much. His gaze was fixed on the men, and though their backs were turned to him, it seemed as if they were removing metal plates from the rear of the hound-bound captives. "What is the purpose of this?" he asked, not even looking at Karim, all pretense of protocol and politesse forgotten.

"It is as I said, Lord Davai: the purpose is discipline. Each prisoner you see is being punished for crimes against the Great Empire, or are receiving punishment on behalf of another who has committed such crimes." Karim stroked his chin. "This particular selection is weighted heavily towards the latter. Perhaps their house tried to oppose the Great Empire, or their company swindled its merchants, or their uncle swore oaths unwisely. In the Near East they would have to be slain quickly and mercifully as a message to all others, and in the Far East their family would be murdered one generation above and one generation below to uphold respect for written law, but in this Western land a display of awe and submission is enough. Your people believe in the forgiveness of Christ, and in a similar manner your trespasses against the Great Empire may be forgiven as long as you are willing to roll over and show your belly.

Karim laughed to himself. "Not that these ones can roll over; they are restrained in a manner most strict, their arms and legs folded over and bound in silk bandages, resting on their knees and elbows, held quite still by the cast iron shell around them. They are let out to exercise often enough to stop cankers and bedsores—though they seem little more fond of their exercise than they do of their rest—and they otherwise remain bound and ready to serve. Right now they are about to be... well, 'fed' doesn't do it justice, truly. I implore you to watch."

Davai watched silently as the eight men parted their gowns. They wore nothing underneath and their rampant cocks jutted forth for all to see. Their cocks were not long, perhaps even Davai had a longer member than the shorter among the group, but they were imposingly thick, with plum-sized heads peeking out from their foreskins. All eight men knelt before their captives, and the captives moaned—even though they could not see them, they could surely smell the weapons raised an inch from their mouths.

As one the Mughal men thrust their dicks between their victims' ring-gagged lips, silencing their moans. The men pushed forward inch by inch with no mercy or regard for the prisoners' suffering until each one was hilted inside, balls flush against chins, noses pressed into pubic hair. The only audible noises were muffled retching and a clinking rattle—Davai deduced from the twitching of the closest prisoner that this noise was one of them struggling madly against their bonds to no avail.

The men held themselves in place for a time, and without realizing it Davai had held his breath in a mixture of sympathy and anticipation. He took a deep, dizzy breath once he realized he was holding it, and it was several moments later that all the Mughal men pulled out, resting the tips of their cocks on the edges of their prisoners' ring gags. All of the victims gasped for breath but one retched with startling loudness and spewed a mouthful of clear bile over the tip of their rapist's cock. A cheer went up across the Mughals for this, the perpetrator raising his hands in triumph as the two men nearest to him slapped his back in congratulation.

"To be truthful, the reason I say that 'fed' does not do this task justice," said Karim, devilishly, "is that our hounds tend to lose more food than they swallow."

Before Davai could say a word the men fell upon the hounds and fucked their throats, battering their tonsils with hard, sharp thrusts, leaning over their backs to grope and finger their now-exposed backsides. The prisoners were not silent about their treatment. Some sobbed, some whimpered, one seemed to scream with rage at their predicament, but they all made the *gyack-gyack-gyack* sound of a goose swallowing a too-large piece of bread. The puddles of slop beneath their chins were quickly turning to pools, and the stink of sweat and musk cut through the incense and heady wine that hung about the room.

Davai did not realise that his fists were clenched, though he would not have cared even if he had known. "This is senseless."

"No!" Karim raised his voice, and it broke through the haze of anger and revulsion that clouded Davai's mind sufficiently to make him look his way. "The third hound from the right is a knight's daughter whose father conspired to warn a foreign prince that his alliance of convenience with the Great Empire was no longer convenient, out of degenerate loyalties and a warped sense of honour. We gave the knight a choice, and he was free to walk down the senseless path—to be put to the sword along with his liege, his company, and his entire family to purge any others who might harbour such treasonous intentions. He instead chose the sensible path, and gave up his only daughter to suffer for his sins.

Karim speared a piece of brandy-soaked pear with a tiny silver fork, ate it in two bites, and continued. "Tonight, when she is allowed out of her prison to stretch her limbs and feast on water and stale bread, she will write her father a letter, as she does every week. The letter will tell of her misery, the terror of being enclosed in a space tighter than any casket, the aches that wrack her limbs, the stench of the soldiers who use her as a pleasure toy, the burning, splitting pain in her throat from having it cruelly ravaged every day and every night, the vile taste of her lovers' creamy seed, her longing to see her family and father once more, and her despair at the fate that has befallen her.

"A messenger takes each letter written in her own hand and stained with her own tears, carries it to her father, and reads every word aloud in a private audience to ensure the father knows the consequences that his crimes have wrought. He is the only one who knows of his daughter's fate—all others believe her dead in a tragic accident. We hold the father to a higher standard of loyalty now, and should he fail to meet it the private audience of each reading would become a public audience, and all who know him would see the extent to which he has become dishonoured.

"Two people suffer for a crime that could warrant the sacking of a town and the murder of hundreds," Karim sniffed. "I see nothing senseless in this at all."

Davai looked upon the depraved scene as he considered his host's words. The man using the knight's daughter had pulled out of her mouth and was stroking her cheek with a knuckle, whispering to her in a foreign language. If it was not clear from the way her face scrunched and shuddered, the damp spots soaking through her blindfold made it obvious that she was sobbing hysterically. Her rapist gave her cheek a gentle slap, and then he looked down, pursed his lips, and hocked a thick wad of spit onto the tip of his cock. He slipped his dick between her lips and spread the load all over her mouth, giving her a taste of his saliva before pushing back into her throat.

"...Is this to remain her fate until she expires?" he asked softly.

"Bismillah, no!" Karim seemed scandalized. "This is not a death sentence, it is a period of training. First, she must be broken, like any beast of burden. Once not even the dullest ember of resistance burns within her, she can be taught—both how to serve men, and how to service them. After she has been taught she will go through proving, and once she proves herself, she will become a full serving girl. We will then offer to sell her back to her father, although such relatives are often reticent to take back our poor graduates and reveal the truth of their fates, and if she is not bought, she will be put to work."

"I see." Davai's fingers played along his stockings, but he barely felt them, or anything in fact. His whole body felt as if it was filled with air. "And how, ah, how long is the period of breaking?"

Karim shrugged. "That one has been pledging her undying servitude and begging to be allowed to learn the ways of a harem girl for a month and a half, now. It is a good start, but I should imagine she shall need another month or so of seasoning before she's truly ready."

A serving girl approached Karim and knelt down beside him. Davai recognised her as the girl by the bookshelves who had taken the scroll of offering from him earlier. "Master, I have finished examining the offer of tribute from the Houses of the Amber Plains."

"Very good, Farah. Is it as expected?"

"Roughly so, Master. There are some small differences between the text in Latin and the text in Mongolian, but they seem to be difficulties in translation of little consequence. Would you like me to give you the translation, Master?"

"That would be delightful, thank you."

In the back of his mind, Davai knew that the conversation taking place between his host and his pet scrivener was of vital importance, that it was in fact the very crux of the task he had traveled here to complete, but he could tear neither his eyes nor his ears from the commotion on the dais. All sixteen creatures upon it had reached a fever pitch—mad, unthinking thrusting from the men and panicked wailing from the hounds below them. The men began to climax.

The man using the knight's daughter finished first, bellowing triumphantly as he blew his load deep in her mouth, hunching over her and pulling her head into his crotch until he was finished. With a muffled retch, a thick trail of sperm burst out from between her lips and his cock to run down her chin. He pulled out and for a moment she seemed unable to breathe before she gave a great shuddering cough and two lines of semen spewed out of her nostrils, streaked red from where his rough thrusts had ruptured something within her nose, as more seed burbled out from her mouth.

The next man along finished immediately after, pulling out of his hound's mouth. With one hand he stroked his cock and with the other he caught the splash of spit and bile that spewed from between his victim's lips and rubbed it in their face. As soon as he moved his hand away the first rope of cum hit the hound's forehead, dripping down in a straight line over his blindfold, down his nose, lips and chin and in his mouth. Nearly a dozen more spurts of seed flew forth, plastering the trapped squire's face in thin, slimy sperm, coating his cheeks and concealing his almost-imperceptible shadow of stubble—he had clearly been shaved today—with much landing directly in his mouth.

When the second man finished the remaining six Mughals climaxed more or less at the same time, splitting Davai's attention between them. He saw a couple of the hounds receive a mask of seed in the same manner as the squire, another forced to drink down their gift from a cock buried in their throat, one Mughal let his cum ooze directly onto his hound's tongue before clamping a hand over their mouth to force them to swallow. With horror he watched how one victim—the one who had struggled terribly within her bonds to no avail when the rape began—had her mouth stuffed with a rag before the man pressed the tip of his cock to her hook-stretched nostrils and spewed his seed directly into her nose. The man used his finger to push his molasses-thick semen back up into her nostrils as it threatened to run down her upper lip, forcing her to inhale and presumably swallow it lest she suffocate.

He heard a soft wailing, not muffled or wet enough to have come from one of the hounds, and he turned to see Justyna the woman-gift in her bonds, craning her neck to look at the perverse scene on the dais, tears streaming down her face as she saw her inevitable and fast-approaching fate. A cold weight settled in his stomach. He had delivered her to this, after all, and if there was truly a God who could survey a world with such horrors in it, he was not sure he would ever find forgiveness for such a callous act.

A cough from beside him brought Davai out of his trance-like observation. "Lord Davai," said Karim, "my scribe and I have perused the formal offer of tithe from the Houses of the Amber Plains, and as a representative of the Great Empire I find it appropriate and respectable."

Davai blinked. "Yes," he said, and swallowed. His palms were slick with sweat that did not wick away or dry no matter how much he fussed them along his stockings. "I see, yes. That is good. Thank you, Sir Karim, it is most appreciated."

"Appreciated, pah, it is a good and profitable deal for the Great Empire and an honourable one for the Houses of the Amber Plains. Such a thing is a cause for celebration!” Karim nodded, smiling broadly. “Ihsan, darling, fetch another jug of wine would you?"

Part 5 here: https://writefinch.tumblr.com/post/649559112232894464/the-princes-offering-pt5-noncon-bondage

[avengersassemble-fics]

You Again

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an: lmao LISTEN do i know its been two years since this was updated?? yes BUT ya know the people ask and the people shall receive lol feel free to catch up if ya want. also!! if you're invested in this pls bare with me on the links, my blog was changed in 2019, but I fixed the master list links so use that or search on the blog! be careful.. things aren’t always what they appear ;)

We’ve been together long enough for me to figure it out

The sentence flowed out of her red stained lips easily which threw everyone for a loop, surprised glances were tossed around the group. Barry’s mouth formed an O shape and Diana’s brows raised as she glanced between you and Bruce, whose angry eyes were locked on the smirking Selina Kyle. Bruce’s hand locked onto her arm and started pulling her away, leaving his team behind and Diana cleared her throat.

“Right then, let’s. . Get back.”

Her sympathetic eyes locked onto your face, which had a blank expression and led everyone back to the plane. It was strangely quiet, except for Barry who spoke quickly to Clark about something, “And I told him, all I did was push people over and run away, but he didn’t believe me! So..”

With Alfred’s help the plane almost completely piloted itself, Diana didn’t have to do much for it to return to the safe house. As it neared, she flipped a few switches to conceal the aircraft, and landed the plane just outside the familiar abandoned building. The engines slowed to a hummed noise, and everyone got up from their seats - everyone except for you. Barry passed you first but paused, which made Diana press her elbow into his back to make him move along. Clark stopped beside you, and placed a hand on your shoulder carefully, which caused you to look up from your pensive state, a small hmm leaving your lips.

“You wanna come inside?” He asked. You looked from his stare to your hands, and sighed.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Clark smiled sadly at you, “Not too much of a choice.”

You laughed at his honesty. It wasn’t actual laughter, but he recognized the sarcasm laced in it. The half smile, the way you shook your head, and you finally stood. He let you walk off first and into the light drizzle of rain. Each step the pair took further from the ship, the ground beneath it began to descend. You didn’t even need to look behind you, Bruce was ever the brilliant man for that detail too.

Tonight you were learning quite a bit from him. Just like before.

When Clark and you joined the rest of the group, the chatter quieted. Barry was attempting to locate food in the kitchen, and Diana stood straighter from leaning against the wall near it. She smiled sheepishly at you, and Clark left from your side. You looked at the computer in the room, and was the one to ask the dreaded question.

“When is he going to be here?”

Diana glanced at Clark for a moment, who only shrugged his shoulders, “We’re. . . Not sure.”

You nodded, and found yourself drawn to the couch, and planted yourself there on one side. Tonight made everything much more clear for you about the breakup, about those last few months of your relationship with Bruce. It wasn’t the Batman revelation that made the split happen, no it was something much worse. Something that happened just a couple months after that.

Work had gotten busier for you. That wasn’t to say you weren’t successful during your relationship with Bruce, he didn’t play into that. You were successful before you met Bruce, but somehow in those last few weeks things had exploded for your business. You found yourself swamped in work but it was good, it was so good for you and your career. But with it, and with Bruce’s new found vigilantism, you began to see less and less of one another.

He stopped sending flowers, he stopped sending those cute emails like he would at random times in the day, you heard from him less and less. But it wasn’t all his fault, it fell on you as well. Some dinners were cancelled, calls were missed, and texts unsent. It wasn’t on purpose, it just happened. But you didn’t want it to. You never wanted it to.

One night, you remembered the rain and how hard it fell that night, you drove out to see him, in that house by the lake you often wanted to call home. You did, kind of, you stayed there for most nights during the week, but not so much anymore. It was hard to see past the sheet of rain as you pulled into the long waved driveway. But you did it. You parked behind his car and switched the engine off, and squinted into the glass windows. All the lights were on of course, but there was no sign of him.

You had to fling the door open and grab your purse and rush inside. You fumbled with your key and slid it into the lock and let yourself in, but it didn’t matter, you were completely drenched. As you shut the door behind you and wiped some of the water from your face, you heard the tap of feet come down the hallway. But it wasn’t Bruce’s, Alfred came around the corner, and looked shocked to see you.

“Hey Al,” you greeted, and smiled at him.

“I keep telling him to pull the car in if he’s expecting you,” he casually said. You set your purse down and removed your wet jacket, and Alfred was quick to grab it from you.

“Oh he wasn’t expecting me I just thought I’d surprise him,” you said, “is he..?”

“I’m afraid he is,” Alfred replied, already knowing the question. You nodded and started towards the bedroom you shared with Bruce. You didn’t know what you were going to find out that night.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the door opened, everyone looked to it and weren’t surprised to see Bruce enter the room. He looked nervous, everyone could see it, and you just kept your arms rested on your legs, and stared at him.

Bruce let the door close behind him as he took a couple steps into the room. He looked between Clark, Diana, and you. Barry was eating something behind the group in the kitchen, and wasn’t paying too much attention. Clark and Diana stood behind the couch, arms crossed in front of them, but Diana was the first to break the silence.

“Do you care to tell us what’s going on, Bruce?” she asked.

Bruce glanced your way again, but you had averted your gaze to the wall, “I’ve been in contact with Selina about what’s going on, after the Arkham break out,” he stated very carefully.

“Only after?” Clark asked. Bruce narrowed his eyes at him, but you sat there and your stomach turned.

“For this matter, yes,” he said honestly. But Clark knew this wasn’t the answer you had hoped for. He looked at your shoulders tense, as did Bruce. You just continued to rub your hands together.

“Well, what does she know?” Diana pressed.

“The mayor’s office has covered up the fact that all of Arkham’s inmates were broken out,” he said, “not escaped. Someone initiated it. She doesn’t know who this guy is, but he’s planning some kind of siege on the city,” he paused, “he’s only starting with Gotham. Metropolis, Central City, Star City, they’re all going to be targeted.”

Silence filled the room. Diana looked down at her feet and Clark up to the ceiling for a moment. Barry was fully paying attention at this point, and shifted his weight from one leg to another, “Shouldn’t we be getting more guys in on this then? Anyone?”

“I know a lead in Star City,” Bruce said, “but getting him in may be difficult.”

“It’s a start,” Clark said. There was a nodded agreement amongst them, and Diana looked to you once more. She motioned for Clark and Barry to follow her out of the room. Clark followed, pushing Barry along in front of him, who exclaimed his confusion.

That left Bruce and you alone in the open. He had his hands twisted in his jacket pockets and looked at his feet. You finally broke your stare from the wall and looked at him. You both didn’t say anything, and you could feel the sting in your eyes. It was funny, you had told yourself just 6 months ago you wouldn’t cry over Bruce Wayne ever again. Yet here you were.

“What did she mean by it,” you asked in almost a whisper. But he heard you. He just didn’t know how to reply. His silence though bothered you.

“What did she mean by it, Bruce,” you said a little stronger now. That made him finally look up and meet your gaze.

“We’ve been. . . Intimate a few times,” he said, “nothing more than that.”

You nodded, a hurt smirk on your face, “For how long.”

Bruce took a step forward, “(Y/N)-”

“Dont fucking gaslight me,” you said, standing from the couch and pointed at him, “tell me the truth. For how long.”

“Fine! You really wanna know?” He yelled, and put his hands on hips.

“Yes! I want to fucking know!”

“Over a year! There! Are you fucking happy?”

You blinked at him as your jaw dropped a little. Over a year. You broke up only 13 months ago. That could only mean. . . You couldn’t even finish the thought, but his face gave you the answer you never wanted to hear.

“Is that why you pushed me away,” you whispered, “because-”

“Yes,” he breathed, “I. . . Couldn’t bear the thought that I had done it. And I couldn’t admit it to you.”

A single tear fell down your cheek. You shook your head as you focused on a spot on the floor, “Did you. .  In the house did you-”

“Yes,” he mumbled, “a couple of times, yes.”

“A couple,” you stopped yourself, “in the bed that. . . that we would-”

“Yes,” he finished for you. Silence fell over you both as you two began to process what he was sharing, every gruesome detail. Tears were on the brim of your eyes, and Bruce looked on sadly. He tried to take a step closer to you, and you moved away to the end of the couch.

“What do you think-”

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “I’m so sorry. I loved you, I still love you-”

“No,” you cut him off this time, “you don’t do that to someone you love.”

“Please just let me explain-”

“No,” you cut him off again, and took another step back, “no you don’t get to explain anything to me.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks, and watched you glance over him one time, and then you turned away from him. And in that moment, he felt like he lost you all over again. He watched you walk away, just like he did over a year ago. And it still broke his heart.

You made it to your room and shut the door very softly. You had managed to hold the tears in but couldn’t any longer. They slid down your cheeks and neck and you stared at the bed before you. The thought of last night came into your mind and something in you snapped. You practically tore the clothing off your body and threw it into a corner of the room, it would go forgotten for awhile. You took your time picking out shorts and a basic tee to throw on when you looked over at the bed. Your skin burned just looking at the sheets and covers on it.

Frantically, you tore every piece of bedding off of it and threw it in the same pile as the clothes. Tears clouded your vision as you worked on peeling each dirty memory from the bed, until it was bare. And you were bare. A quiet sob left your body and you covered your mouth with your hand, and eased yourself onto the ground. You pulled your legs to your chest and leaned against the bed. Tears just slid down your cheeks, and you sat there. Alone. Quiet.

There was a soft knock at the door, but you didn’t bother to acknowledge it. However, that didn’t stop the person from pushing your door open. From the corner of your eye, you saw the tall figure, who tried to look for some kind of sign they could come in. The best you could offer was a glance, and your face scrunching up in another cry. A plea.

Clark entered your room and shut the door behind him. He hurried over to you and sat beside you and that’s when you started to cry once more. His right arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaned into his side. Your body shook from the cries, and he wrapped his left arm around you to soften the gasps. His chin rested above your head as you burrowed yourself more and more into him.

He sat there with you until you started to calm down. Until the gasps stopped, until your sniffles disappeared, and until you released your legs from your grasp. He tilted his head to get a look at you, and all he could see were those (e/c/l) pensive eyes staring at the wall.

“Stay here,” we whispered. You nodded in response and he carefully detached himself from you. As he stood, you watched as he entered your bathroom and entered the closet in there. He was gone for just a few moments before he reappeared with a fresh set of sheets, and new comforter. He didn’t say anything as he worked around you to fit the sheets on, dress the pillows in new covers, and smooth the comforter over the bed. You didn’t make eye contact with him again until he kneeled before you, and rested his arms on his legs.

“Come on,” he whispered, and held a hand out for you. You looked from his face to his hand, and hesitated only for a moment to take it. Clark pulled you up from the floor, and with his strong arms he helped you climb into bed, and under the covers.

He offered a small smile, and you still gripped his hand. He turned as if to leave, but the fact you didn’t let go of his hand pulled his attention back to you.

“Can you stay for a bit longer, Kent?” You whispered it to him, but he heard you.

He would always hear you.

He nodded and crawled over you so he sat beside you. You sat there quietly for a few moments before you spoke again.

“Did you hear?”

You played with the blanket covering you, and Clark sighed, “I did. . . I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, “I know you can’t help it,” you smiled sadly to yourself, “I just,” you laughed a bit, but this time he could hear that hurt, “Bruce he was the first one that I let into my life, after..”

You trailed off, and Clark frowned, but you didn’t look at him. You just kept playing with the fabric of the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You glanced over your shoulder a bit, and then focused back on the blanket you played with. You moved a bit, shimmied down the bed and Clark couldn’t help but smile at your movements. You proceeded to lay your head in his lap, and he carefully moved his arm so it rested behind your back. You were positioned so that you stared ahead at the door, and Clark instinctively started to gently run his fingers over your hair.

He remembered vividly the last time he did this with you. Before you went off for college, before he disappeared from your life. He sat in this same position, and you rested your head in his lap and fell asleep. It would be the last time you saw him for years. But not the last time he would see you.

“Clark,” you suddenly called out.

“Yes?” he asked. You twisted a bit so your head laid straight up in his lap and you could meet his gaze.

You bit your lip a bit as you wondered about your question, “After you left. . . Did you ever come back?”

There was something in your still wet eyes, and they looked at him in a way he hadn’t seen himself in years. You were looking for the truth, it was something you needed to know. Clark cleared his throat and shifted a bit back towards the headboard.

“I did,” he admitted, “a couple of times, but. . . You were gone by then. And your mom she wouldn’t-”

“She never told me,” you said quietly.

Clark nodded, “I saw you once,” he paused and you looked at him in shock, “in Metropolis. Sitting outside a restaurant.”

That was enough to get you back sitting up, and facing him completely now, “You saw me?”

He nodded, “You were reading Jane Eyre, your favorite, the same copy your father gave you. You had this blue dress on and I saw you from the other side of the street, couldn’t miss you,” he smiled a bit to himself, and you looked at him with sad eyes, “I was going to go over, but then I saw Bruce join you, and you two kissed and I thought. . . You’d be better off not knowing I was there.”

You smiled sadly at him and then suddenly you had moved to lay down. Clark’s arm wrapped down your back as you cushioned yourself into his side. You didn’t say anything and neither did he. Why you felt the need to hug onto his side was beyond him, but Clark didn’t budge the rest of that night. You needed someone there with you, and if you needed it to be him then he would be there.

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this is the old tag list y’all I cannot believe im doing this to you, if you wanna be removed just let me know im cackling im so sorry

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[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-three: among us

Sam drove herself and Joey back to his place by the time the lake effect snow began to fall over them. There was no way they were going to stay there for very long, especially since she didn't have her boots on. He shivered in the seat next to her even though he wore a long black coat: he knitted his knees together and bowed his head to better keep the warmth in his body even though the heater was switched on. She flexed her fingers a bit along the edge of the steering wheel: those hockey gloves were back at his place, but she wondered if she could have one of those pairs of gloves with the finger tips snipped off.

Right outside of town, Joey bowed his head a bit more and his inky black curls sprawled over his shoulders like the tentacles of an octopus.

“You feel okay?” she asked him with a glimpse over at him.

“Yeah—I've just got a chill up a spine that won't go away is all.”

“Would you like something warm when we get back to your place?”

“Please. I need a bit of sump'n filling, too.”

“We didn't really eat much of breakfast, anyway,” she pointed out. Joey shook his head about so the black curls brushed against his shoulders.

Sam wound her way off the highway and she recognized the side street from the night before. It took her a single night and a couple of trips throughout there in order for her to recall the way back to his place. Joey slid out of the front seat first once they took the same spot from the night before; Sam followed suit right behind him with her hands upon her upper arms. He reached the door first and thus he held it for her once she padded up to his front step.

“See, there's a gentleman in there,” she told him in a light voice and with a nod of her head. He showed her another lopsided grin as she ducked inside: once he came in behind her, the rain began to fall out there in sheer sheets. He shook his head about even though his hair was dry.

Sam continued onward to the kitchen for his kettle: she opened the cupboard next to the fridge in search of cocoa and marshmallows, but there was nothing. He had a little bit of food on hand but not a lot. She could only assume it was because he was about to head out on tour soon that he had cleaned out his pantry, but she could feel herself growing hungry again.

“What you looking for?” he asked her once he stood next to the counter.

“When Cliff was alive, I made some Mexican hot chocolate for him one morning.”

“Oh, shit—I don't think I have any of those things.”

“If we were back at my place, I'd make you a cup wing bang boom. It's just the kind of day for something like this—with the cinnamon and kiss of spices.”

“Kiss of spices,” he chuckled at that. She turned around to find him stooped down behind the counter.

“Yeah—like a little kiss of spices.”

“Spices before I head out to Europe in a few days.”

“You oughta give me a kiss,” she joked, and Joey raised his head from behind the counter. His lips were parted a bit; she froze in place. She had blurted it out. He had been making jokes with her with each encounter they had, especially when they were out on the hockey rink. It wasn't a joke even though she intended it to be as such.

“Did you say what I think you said?” he asked her in a low voice. Sam swallowed and she shifted her weight right in that spot. He stood to his feet, but he never moved closer to her. Those brown eyes swallowed her whole like a pair of black holes.

She shifted her weight again, and she turned her head into the partially empty cupboard next to her. Joey let out a long low whistle, and then he ran his fingers through the black curls on the side of his head. She never moved a muscle as he ambled over to the fridge for something. He took out a brown glass bottle from the top shelf.

“Put the booze away, Joey,” she begged him. “I don't want you to drink. Please—don't drink. Besides you already had one earlier.”

He stared at the bottle as it rested in his right hand.

“Joey—I didn't mean to say that,” she blurted out, but then she realized that was the wrong thing to say. But he didn't move: he kept his gazed fixated on the crinkled label plastered on the front there.

“Joey—I—” she sputtered. Her mind went blank. “—I—I—”

Joey set the bottle down on the counter next to him and he moved in closer to her. Sam pressed her back to the wall. He brought his dark lips closer to her face. The skin looked smooth and delicate, and it made her think of dark chocolate.

“Nah,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

“What's wrong?” she asked him.

“I don't really wanna do it,” he confessed. “Even though I'm curious.”

“Well—I don't understand?” she coaxed him.

“I mean, you said it,” he pointed out.

“I was making a joke, though.”

“Oh, I see,” he showed her a grin again.

“It was a joke but it kinda sucked.”

“Try saying it in a funny voice,” he suggested.

“You oughta gimme a kiss,” she repeated in a phony high voice, and that brought a laugh out of him.

“Where would you like me to kiss ya?”

“On the lips, of course.”

“Which lips? The mouth or in between your legs?”

“The mouth. Although I would have to touch the lips in between my legs to get myself going.” Even though she had touched herself in the past, it felt so odd to tell another person about it, especially when she didn't really feel it there in front of Joey.

“You sure about that?” He raised those little black eyebrows at her.

“Positive.”

“Maybe I can do ya a favor, though,” he said with a little gyration of his head.

“I'd have to get to know you a little better, though, Joey,” she pointed out. “Get to know you a little better to really see how I feel about you.”

“You've got a taste of it, though—you're ahead of the game already.”

“Unless you wanna play a game of hockey with me,” she quipped.

“Play a game of hockey and fuck yes with me,” he added, and he burst out laughing right there. She tried to resist a chuckle but it slipped out from her. Why that was so funny to her was almost beyond her, and yet she laughed anyway.

“Fuck yes? What about fuck maybe?”

“Fuck maybe, fuck yes—fuck it all and fuck the pain away.”

“So many fucks,” she remarked.

“All the fucks in the world. All the fucks in the world in between your legs.”

“Hey, now—let's not get ahead of ourselves. I already am kind of ahead of myself.”

Joey raked the hair on the side of his head yet again.

“So you wanna make me some Mexican hot chocolate?” he asked her.

“Yeah. With nutmeg and cinnamon. Maybe a little star anise or something particularly special to make it a little more Native American influenced.”

“Hmm—” He stroked his chin. “I dunno if I've seen anything like that here in Camillus. We'd haveta go to Syracuse, and I don't really feel like going out again.”

“I can go alone,” she suggested with a shrug. “I know my way back here.”

“I'll be awaiting for you.” He flashed her a wink and a slight pucker of his dark lips. She shifted her weight yet again and she adjusted her shirt; he was adorable with his little lopsided smile and his little cheekbones. It made her think of Lars and she wondered how he was doing right then before Metallica's first tour without Cliff onboard. Even though she made a joke, she wondered how he really felt about her.

“Would you like me to bring back something else for you?” she asked him in a trembling voice: she flashed back on the scuffle between him and Alex even though she had no reason to do so.

“Maybe sump'n for dinner and some more coffee for us in the morning. Get yourself something nice, too.” He shook his black curls about and showed off his neck to her all the while. She skirted past him and her hand brushed upon his shoulder. A single touch against his clothes and she shuddered a bit. She was always alone with it, but perhaps that would change soon enough for her. She returned to the couch for her coat. The thought of going to fetch some coffee made her think of that scuffle yet again.

It was right then she had an idea.

“Do you remember where the dudes from Legacy went off to?” she asked him, to which he shrugged his slender shoulders.

“Why's that?” he asked her, and the warmth had vanished from his face at that.

“Oh—just curious.”

“I dunno, to be quite frank.”

“So there's 'to be frank' and there's 'to be quite frank',” she recalled.

“It's almost Frank,” he said, and the grin returned to his face.

“Or sophisticated Frank,” she pointed out.

“That's Frank with a suit on.” And he couldn't resist the laugh right there. She slipped her coat back on and picked up the keys again.

“I'll be back soon, you crazy boy,” she told him and she headed back outside, where the rain poured down, still in sheets. She bowed her head as she made her way back around the corner and towards the car: Cliff's hat was in the back seat. Hopefully, the rain continued over in Syracuse.

It felt so weird driving there without Joey or anyone else with her, but she managed to do it anyway. Right before the inner city, she took the first exit and rolled up to the first stoplight. Even through the sheets of cold rain, she recognized that van down the block, right up against the corner.

“Ask and you shall receive,” she muttered to herself. She gazed up at the red light over her head, and she thought about Zelda and Belinda's remarks about their desire to do more for the boys. It was a fleeting thought, but she wondered if they had management of sorts around them, besides the Zazulas of course. She was their very first member of their fan club after all. Maybe she could do more, something more than Stormtroopers especially since she hadn't heard a word about them from either Scott or Charlie, especially since she hadn't heard a word about them following the tour from last summer.

The light turned green and she lunged forward. She took the spot right behind them: she recognized Chuck's smooth brown curls underneath his sweater hood. He turned in her direction and she flashed the headlights at him. He frowned at her and she opened the door, and poked her head out for him to see. And his face lit up at her.

“Hey, guys, Sam's here!” he declared into the back section of the van. She reached into the back seat for the hat and she put it on before she climbed out all the way. She set a hand on the crown and Chuck flashed her two thumbs up.

“Bitchin' hat, little Sammich,” he told her once she came within earshot. Eric emerged from the inside there, also with a hood on his head.

“What're you guys doing here?” she asked them.

“We were about to head on back home,” Chuck told her as he put his arm around her again.

“That is a bitchin' hat,” Eric remarked.

“It used to be Cliff's hat,” she said with a nudge of the brim.

“I thought it looked familiar,” Chuck noted; she looked past Eric at that little jet black helmet of hair posted up against the van wall behind him. He lingered in the background with his hand upon his brow: single gray hairs slithered out from in between his fingers. He kept his head bowed a bit as if he had a headache: but she recognized his fine prominent features paired with that boyish round face.

“He's grounded,” Greg, who sat right across from him, told her. “He's been a bad boy.”

“He's grounded?” she chuckled, but she stopped herself in her tracks.

“Tried a little acid,” Chuck said into her ear in a low voice. “Just to see what it was like.”

“Yeah—a short trip—sort of, anyways—and he's still coming down from it,” Eric added, “and his parents caught wind of it. His mom was like, 'he may be eighteen now but he's still our baby!' over the phone, so I was like, 'yes, alright, Mrs. Skolnick—we'll get your little boy home soon enough. It'll probably be out of his system by then.' So when he gets home, he's gotta serve out his sentence for a bit.”

Alex bowed his head a bit more and he kept his hand upon the crown, and she wondered how he was feeling right then. He was barely eighteen and yet he tried out something that seemed so strange even to her. He breathed a little hard as if he had just run a mile but he wasn't acting strange in any other way. Louie knelt down before the double doors, complete with his hair combed down flat upon the top of his head.

“Hey, you,” Sam greeted him, and he showed her a big toothy grin. “How you doing?”

“I'm doing better now,” he replied and he shook his head so his hair lifted off of the crown. “How's Zelda?”

“She's kicking ass right now. I guess the Cherry Suicides are trying to get something for themselves with the label, at least that's according to her.”

“Awesome! I hope they get it.”

“By the way, when are Metallica coming?” Eric asked her as he knitted his eyebrows together and adjusted his hood. “Do you know already?”

“Coming where? To California?”

“No, here to New York and the rest of the country.”

“I think they already left, Eric,” Louie confessed as he ran a hand over the smooth wave of hair upon his head.

“Left for Europe,” Sam added.

“Let's see, you're a student,” Louie said, “I kinda wanna see you on tour with us if and when it happens. It'll happen soon enough, we just have to—you know, record our album and get it put out and everything.”

“Well, if I go along with you, I don't want you guys to stay in dingy hotels,” she declared. “I went on tour with Stormtroopers last summer and we stayed in one hotel the entire tour. All over New York and Pennsylvania, Marla and I stayed in Charlie's car.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Eric groaned.

“But I don't think we will,” Chuck assured her. “At least, that's what I think, anyway. All I know is we're staying far away from the hallucinogens, that's for sure.” His dark eyes wandered over to Alex, who finally lifted his head up but he didn't appear to be looking at anything in particular.

“Hang on—when are you guys going into the studio?” Sam asked them.

“Uh, January, I think?” said Eric. “We're coming out here to do the recording, too.”

“If it comes out in the spring, we'll tour over the summer,” Greg added from inside of the van, and Alex shuddered in response to that.

“Dude, Sam—you gotta come with us!” Chuck encouraged her.

“Yeah, come with us!” Louie exclaimed.

“Yeah, walk among us,” Eric joined in.

“I'd have to do something about school, though,” she pointed out as she adjusted the brim of her hat again. “Where are you guys going?”

“We hope it'll just be all along the West Coast,” Chuck explained. “Well, you're part of the fan club which means you're on our mailing list. You'll get your first perks!”

“Oh, cool! I'll keep an eye out for that.”

Eric gazed up at the darkening sky and squinted his brown eyes in the wake of the rain.

“Let's get out of this rain,” he said to Chuck and Louie.

“Yeah, we just stopped here to get our bearings anyways,” the former told Sam as he rubbed his hand upon her shoulder.

“I like how you just unabashedly put your arm around me,” she remarked to him.

“He's protecting you,” Louie told her with a bow of his head. “Believe me, I did that a lot for Zelda.”

“I gotta get some stuff for Joey, too—he's gotta have some stuff at the moment before Anthrax goes out soon.”

“How's he doing, by the way?” Chuck asked her in a low voice.

“Oh, he's doing great. I've been trying to get him to drop the drinking lately.”

“Good, 'cause if a little hit of acid can mess up our little man lead guitarist for several hours, I can't imagine what the booze must be doing to a lead singer,” Eric said in a single breath.

“No idea,” she confessed with a shake of her head and yet another adjusting of the brim.

“You're getting a full on lake up there!” Greg joked.

“There's a lake out there somewhere,” Alex spoke out of the blue, and in an absent tone.

“Yeah, we gotta get going,” Chuck told Eric, “he sounds lucid.”

“Earlier, he could barely talk,” Eric told her.

“You boys stay healthy for me,” she decreed with her arms outstretched for him. She embraced the three of them and blew Greg a kiss, who promptly caught it and lay it across his chest. Chuck climbed into the driver's seat and Eric took to the passenger side.

“Have some tea, Alex,” she said into the back section of the van; he didn't reply but she knew he heard her. Without another word, she backed away and doubled back to Joey's car. She slid back into the driver's seat and watched Legacy's van haul off into the sheets of lake effect rain. She glanced to her right and she spotted a little spice shop there on the corner in front of her. It would give her the chance to let the hat dry off a bit more as she dodged her way inside for some cinnamon, nutmeg, and chocolate.

She bowed next door for those tiny marshmallows, and soon, she ducked back into the car: Cliff's hat was soaking wet from the rain water and she let out a loud sigh as she lay on the seat next to her. His scent would be washed out for sure at that point, replaced by that earthy rain smell.

Sam drove back to Joey's place, which proved to be a little bit more difficult given the amount of rain that was falling right then: she had to peer past the literal rivulets on the windshield just to see the street signs. But she recognized that art shop across the street and she made that same right hand turn. She bounded into the parking lot and she hurried back to Joey's apartment. He greeted her with yet another lopsided grin and his inky black hair tousled over his shoulder: as she rubbed the rain water from her eyes, she noticed the glisten to his curls. He also had put on a different shirt from before.

“D'you take a shower?”

“I sure did!” he replied. “I had been meanin' to, anyways.” He then rubbed his hands together. “So—this Mexican hot chocolate for the two of us?”

“I served it to Cliff one time when he visited me, and I wanna give you a little taste now.”

Sam put the jars of ground cinnamon and nutmeg on the counter, and she reached into his cupboard for a pair of mugs.

“What if we add a little bitta—” He hesitated as she put on the kettle.

“A bit of what?” she asked him, and she turned around to find him making a drink motion towards his dark lips. She rolled his eyes.

“What? It's Mexican. How 'bout we make it a little Irish, too?”

“Joey—no.” And yet she couldn't help but laugh at that.

“If we serve it with a bit of pasta, it becomes Italian,” he continued.

“Really?”

“Nah, I just made that up. I dunno where that would go, to be honest—and I'm half Italian!”

She laughed at that as she poured the dark cocoa into their mugs. She then thought about the other side of Joey's heritage, especially with the curls and stray ringlets all about his head.

“What about Iroquois?” she asked him as she followed it up with the nutmeg.

“Iroquois, you put it in the ground and hope for the best.”

“Wouldn't that taste like dirt, though?”

“Maybe. Or it might be poured all over my skin for all we know. At least, that was the impression I got growing up as a half blood boy among a shitload of white people.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, and he nibbled on his bottom lip.

“What if I take a few of those tiny marshmallows and rub them all over my belly?” he quipped.

“You do that, I might lick them all off,” she joked, and he clapped his hands together he laughed so hard.

She could hear the kettle boiling right behind her. Joey then leaned his hip against the edge of the counter top and he folded his arms across his chest. She had seen him not even a few hours ago, and yet he was already lucid again. The man could hardly hold his liquor for very long and yet he was lucid again: it made her think of Alex and when exactly he took that hit. She poured the near boiling water into the white mugs and she let the ingredients mix together by themselves before she added the cinnamon and stirred it all together.

A few marshmallows into his mug followed by her own. Joey picked up the mug before him and he raised it to her. She followed suit with both hands.

“To the tour,” he said.

“To art,” she added.

“To art!” he added with a twinkle in his eye. “And to new music in the future as well.”

Eric and Greg had mentioned Legacy would go into the studio themselves in a couple of months time for their very first album. She even opened her mouth a bit as if to mention it to him. But he had such a cold reaction to her asking about Legacy earlier, and thus she pursed her lips together at the thought and corrected herself.

“To brand new music—all around,” she followed up, “from everyone.” And they clinked their mugs together in a toast.

She loved Joey but there was something about Alex. She thought about the mysterious man in her dreams, and yet she was convinced that there was no way that was him. And thus maybe it was because he was still a teenage boy. There he was, nestled there in the back part of their van, at the end of the hallucinatory trip, but he struck her as small and gentle, and even precious. That little plume of gray at the crown of his head made him older but it also added to the roundness of his face. Eric even referred to him as his parents' little boy after all. He was still a young boy, even with that big jarring voice and those grays.

She loved Joey but she needed to protect Alex. She kept that firmly in mind as he lowered the mug down to his chest.

“Holy shit, that's excellent,” Joey remarked. “The spice comes in at the back, too, I love that!”

“It's not the traditional way they make it south of the border, but it's something, though,” Sam confessed with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Is that why it took you so long to get back?”

“Yes. I was—looking around for the traditional way of making it, just to kind of change it up from when I served it to Cliff, but—I decided to go the basic route.”

“Sometimes basic is all that's needed,” he assured her with a raise of his eyebrows. He brought the mug to his dark lips again for another sip.

“I got you more coffee, by the way,” she added, and he moved his free hand out for a high five from her. She loved Joey a lot and she was comfortable around him, but she had no idea what he would do at the mere mention of Alex, or the fact she still smelled like Chuck. For all he knew, however, it still lingered from the day before. She hoped to keep up the lie because the idea of the man she loved going nuts about the other five men she loved made her squirm in that very spot.

[sara-scribbles]

Here is a scenario, if you feel like it: Byleth is having a hard time in the marriage because she feels Seteth can't let go the memories of his wife, she time travels and meets Seteth's first wife. How it goes?

Promise

Fandom: Fire Emblem Seteth/F!Byleth Note: Contains spoilers.

A yawn escaped her mouth as she stood from her desk. Spending a long evening going over reports was a tedious process. Who knew being archbishop meant dealing with piles of paperwork. Every document, missive or note had to be read, reviewed, and approved or declined. Seteth had drilled into her that she was not allowed to skim over them; he still took his job seriously.

A smile played on her lips as she thought of her husband. They had been married for almost a year after the war had ended. It still felt new to her. However that smile dropped as she thought about the past few months. He had become distant from her. Mornings were filled with half hearted greetings before he went to work. She didn’t see him until lunch, and even then he didn’t have much to say. At night she would wait for him to retire to their bed, but she would fall asleep alone.

Byleth didn’t understand what was going on with him. Flayn was acting her usual sunny self around her. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but had decided her straight forward approach may not work. Whatever was bothering Seteth was a personal matter, and she needed to tread as lightly as possible.

Leaving her office, she made her way through the monastery. She stopped a few times to feed the stray cats and dogs treats she carried around. Most people greeted her warmly as they were now used to seeing the archbishop playing with the animals. She wandered near the docks and spotted an all too familiar figure.

Standing at the edge of the dock, Seteth stared out past the water. Arms behind his back, he looked like a statue. Walking over, she noted how he didn’t seem to hear her so lost in thought even when she called his name. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, she called to him again.

He startled and spun around. “B-Byleth!”

“I’m sorry if I scared you. I did call you…” She peered up at his face trying to find some answers.

“Hmm? Oh, my apologies. I was lost in thought. He smiled at her but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did you need something, dear?”

She rocked on her heels. “I know you’ve been working hard, so I thought a break might help. Maybe we can go on a little trip?”

“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of work to finish tonight.” He frowned as he took her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. “I promise we can do something together later.”

“That’s okay, Seteth. I should get back to work as well.” Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she left him. The smile on her face fell once she was inside her office.

She let out a deep sigh. “...” Something was wrong, and he wasn’t going to share what it was with her. Twisting the ring on her finger, she stared down at it. Suddenly the ring felt heavier than normal.

---------

“Is everything okay, Byleth?” Flayn noticed the way she picked at her meal.

Poking at the smoked fish, Byleth’s frown deepened. “Is Seteth okay?”

Flayn’s eyes briefly glanced at the empty spot. “Father is a little sad right now. It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death.”

“Oh…” She felt like a fool for being upset. “He didn’t tell me…” Of course he was upset. After all he was being reminded of his late wife.

“He doesn’t like to talk about her too much. It’s been years but he still gets upset around this time of year. He tries to act strong for me, but I think he takes it worse than I do.” She took a sip of water. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back to his old self in a few days.”

“And how about you? I’m sure this is also a difficult time. If you need to talk…” She offered her an encouraging smile.

Lowering her head, Flayn poked at her fish. “Thank you. I miss her a lot, but I think she’d be happy to know that we’re happy. I’ve come to accept that she’s gone physically but will remain in my memories. I think it’s harder on father though. He misses her dearly.”

Byleth studied Flayn for a moment. “She must have been wonderful.”

“Oh, yes! Mother was the best. She could make father laugh at the smallest things. We used to go fishing all the time…” Flayn sighed. “Those were happier times for all of us. Of course I am quite happy with you as well, Byleth! You make father happy too.”

“What did you do today?” Dinner continued with idle chatter on a different topic.

Once in her shared room with Seteth, Byleth sat at the edge of the bed. Her thoughts were filled with what Flayn had mentioned. Seteth was distant from her because he missed his late wife.

She understood how he must feel as she still felt an ache whenever she thought of her father. However a small part of her was sad that he couldn’t confide in her. Despite being married for almost a year, and knowing each other long, Seteth was still closed off.

As she readied for bed, she wondered what she could do to understand him better. If only she could ask his first wife…

Byleth quickly got redressed into traveling clothes. Throwing on a cloak, she rushed out to the stables. Her Pegasus perked up the moment she stepped near his stall.

“We’re going for a midnight fly,” she murmured to him as she led him out. After ensuring everything was set, she mounted her stead and took off into the night sky.

---------

Rhodos Coast came into view. The smell of the sea and sound of the waves reminded Byleth of the time she was here. That time Seteth told her the truth of his and Flayn’s true relationship.

Once her Pegasus was settled on the island, she walked over to the lone headstone. Flayn had prayed over her mother’s grave before they left. It was a simple headstone with no date and a name: Clíodna.

Byleth knew that what she was about to do wasn’t an appropriate use of her powers. She could almost hear Sothis reprimanding her. However she felt that this was the only way she might be able to understand Seteth on a deeper level. Hearing from the experience of the woman who loved him first.

Pulling out her sword, she focused her mind on what she wanted to do. The sand shifted under her feet. Raising her arm, she sliced the air in half. A tear in the fabric of space appeared and widened.

Without hesitation, she stepped into the tear and it closed. She was free falling into an abyss of stars. She could see a bright light coming closer and then it enveloped her.

Feet landing on solid ground, she opened her eyes. She was still on Rhodos Coast. Sheathing her sword, she glanced around. It was evening now as the sun was starting to set.

The headstone was gone and the beach was empty except a lone figure further down. Slowly making her way down the beach, she noticed the figure was of a woman. She was sitting with a child cradled in her arms.

She lifted her head as Byleth walked heavily on the sand. Light green hair shone in the setting sun, and bright, soft emeralds peered at her curiously. She stood up, gently brushing sand off her dress with one hand.

“Hello. I didn’t realize there was someone else here.” Her voice was soft with a calming quality.

Byleth’s gaze went to the sleeping child. “I was just…wandering. I apologize for intruding.”

“Oh don’t worry! This isn’t my land either. My husband just happened upon it and thought it would be a good place to rest. I’m Clíodna and this,” she smiled down at the sleeping baby “is Flayn.”

Baby Flayn slept peacefully as drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. Tufts of light green hair peeked out of the blanket.

“I’m Sitri.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily.

“What a lovely name. I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?” She brushed away a strand of hair, pointed ear poking out.

Swallowing her dry throat, Byleth shook her head. “I’m just traveling for a bit.”

Despite being a stranger Clíodna seemed at ease. She was welcoming and warm. No wonder Seteth had fallen in love with her. Byleth could see where Flayn got some of her personality from.

“...staying long?” Her voice broke through Byleth’s inner musings.

Keeping her face completely blank, she shook her head. “I prefer to travel from place to place.”

Clíodna gently rocked Flayn. “Sounds exciting. Does your lover go with you?” Her gaze darted to the ring on Byleth’s finger.

She glanced down at her own hand. “We...sometimes do. Not today though.” She twisted the band on her finger. Her whole reason for coming here was because of the man who had given it to her.

The older woman studied her for a bit. Her brows drew together in a small pinch. “Is everything alright? You seem lost…”

She brushed her own sea-foam colored hair out of her face. “I guess I am in a way. My husband has been...distant lately because he misses his late wife. I want to ask him but I don’t want to pry. I feel like he’s keeping me at a distant despite being married for almost a year. I want to be there when he’s having a hard time, but I don’t know what to do so he knows.”

Her inner thoughts tumbled out of her mouth without stop. Perhaps it was because Clíodna was a stranger she felt comfortable talking. Or perhaps it was because she had bottled up her feelings for so long. Byleth couldn’t bring herself to tell Flayn her worries about her father. There weren’t others she could talk to as her job as archbishop kept her occupied. And the few times she could socialize, she didn’t want to burden her friends with her marriage woes.

It was Clíodna’s chuckle that caught her attention. “Young love is so...cute. This reminds me of when Cichol and I were newlyweds. He’s the type to shoulder his burdens. He never wanted to tell me what was bothering him because he didn’t want to put stress on me.”

“How did you resolve that?” Seteth hadn’t changed much it seemed.

She met her gaze. “I reminded him that we were husband and wife. And part of that means we share each other’s burdens. No matter how heavy they may be, we carry the weight equally. It seems you’re willing to do the same for your love. So tell him how you really feel and go from there.”

She was right. Byleth needed to talk with Seteth instead of trying to figure it out on her own. His problems were her problems, and she wanted to help him. Perhaps they were both at fault as she had the bad habit of not expressing herself fully.

“Thank you.” A small, genuine smile formed on her lips.

Flayn started to stir. “A marriage takes time for both parties to understand each other fully. As long as you work on it, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Clíodna?” Both women turned toward the voice. Byleth felt her heart thump as she realized Seteth was coming. He was not her Seteth but his voice still caused her heart to pound.

“Oh! That’s my husband. Let me get him, and you two can meet.” Leaving Byleth, she rushed in his direction.

Byleth quickly ran off in the opposite direction. Coming back to where she first came, she quickly pulled her sword out. As much as she would like to meet a younger Seteth, she knew she shouldn’t. The laws of time could only be tampered with so much.

Stepping into the space tear, Byleth returned to her time.

---------

By the time she returned to the monastery, the sun was coming up. Though she hadn’t planned to be gone for so long, time traveling had taken a lot out of her.

The moment her feet had landed back in solid ground, her legs had given out and she had blacked out. It was only by the gentle nudging of her Pegasus did she wake up. By then she knew it was late and her absence was bound to be noticed.

Once her Pegasus was back in his stall, she snuck to her quarters. Having successfully avoided anyone, she firmly closed the door. Perhaps her absence had gone unnoticed.

“Byleth!” Spinning around, she was met with Seteth’s frazzled appearance. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. His usually pressed outfit was half unbuttoned and untucked.

He quickly strolled over to her in a few steps, and pulled her into a tight hug. Her face pressed against his chest as he released a ragged breath.

“Where have you been all night? I came to bed and you weren’t there? I searched the entire monastery but couldn’t find you!” He pulled her away at arms length and scanned her body. “Are you hurt?!”

Placing a hand on his chest, she used her other to comb back his messed hair. “I’m fine, Seteth. I just needed some air and decided to take a short flight with Speckle.”

He frowned and his brows pinched together. “I thought you had been kidnapped. I was about to call the guards for a search party. You had me scared half to death!”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I had a lot on my mind and I needed somewhere to think.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she did. He would be even more agitated if she did.

He cupped the sides of her face. Staring deep into her eyes, he let out a sigh. “Please, my dear, next time you decide to take an impromptu flight, at least leave a note.”

“I will if you promise to tell me when something is bothering you,” she countered. She moved away from him to sit on their bed. Peeling her boots off, she watched as he slowly turned around.

His mouth opened and closed. “I...where is this coming from?”

One boot hit the floor. “Flayn told me that it’s the anniversary of your wife’s passing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She watched as he tried to work out his thoughts. “I didn’t want to bother you with that. I’m a grown man, Byleth, I can handle my personal matters alone.”

The other boot dropped with a thud. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone. I am your wife, Seteth. I love you and I promised to always be by your side. I hate that you’ve kept me out. I thought...I thought I did something wrong with the way you were avoiding me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stared up at the ceiling. “It was never my intention to cause you distress. I just thought that dealing with this alone was the best. I...I didn’t want you to think I love you any less.”

Tossing the cloak on a chair, she walked over to him. “I would never love you less for wanting to mourn your late wife. She was a big part of your life and I understand how much you must miss her. I just want to be able to help you carry these emotions. We’re in this together through good and bad.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer. Pressing his forehead against hers, he let out a shaky breath. Eyes closed and face free of stress, he looked younger.

“I’ve forgotten what it means to be married. And I apologize for being distant. This time of year, I always find myself lost in thoughts of the past.” Eyes opened, he smiled. “I promise to share my burdens with you. And I hope you will share yours with me.”

She brushed her nose against his. “I promise.” Eyes falling shut, she closed the distance between their lips. Sealing the promise with a sweet, passionate kiss.

[mygalfriday]

and i just want to love you, to love you, to love you well

{ao3}

Aziraphale is still getting used to being in his own body again when he and Crowley stumble into the demon’s flat somewhere well past one in the morning. While he’s very grateful for Madam Tracy’s hospitality, there’s nothing quite like being back in one’s own corporation, well-worn and comfortable after thousands of years of breaking it in — like a favorite pair of shoes. He’s still feeling a bit wrong-footed but after the day he and Crowley have had, it’s to be expected. Nothing a strong drink and a few chocolate biscuits won’t fix.

He sways on his feet, standing in the entryway to Crowley’s study and staring at the puddle of holy water and melted demon simmering on the floor. At the moment, he can’t be sure if his imbalance is from the stress of discorporation and an averted apocalypse or simply from the horrid images currently flashing in front of his eyes. He’d spent so long fretting over what might happen to Crowley once he was in possession of a heavenly weapon like holy water and now here he stands, staring at the evidence.

One wrong move and the puddle at Aziraphale’s feet could have been Crowley.

His stomach heaves and he shuts his eyes briefly, pressing his fingertips to his mouth in an effort to quell the sudden bout of nausea. From the other end of the flat, he can hear Crowley rummaging around in the kitchen fetching wine and glasses for them. Aziraphale clings to the sound of his voice as he mutters irritably to himself, drawing strength from the auditory proof that Crowley is perfectly safe. They both are. For now.

He evaporates the demonic remains and the holy water with a snap of his fingers. And then he sets about cleansing the whole study just in case, walking every inch of it and muttering incantations under his breath. He tidies up as he goes, gathering the papers strewn about on the floor like confetti. Strange, considering Crowley usually keeps all of his things in such pristine condition and frequently takes great joy in mocking Aziraphale’s magpie ways.

Tutting to himself, Aziraphale shuffles the papers neatly and drops them onto Crowley’s desk. His eyes fall absently to the page on top of the pile and he stops short, staring at the star system known as Alpha Centauri. We can run away together. Aziraphale goes cold, realizing with a pang that the uncharactertistic clutter is the result of Crowley searching frantically for an escape.

All this research and then he’d simply…stayed.

“Angel?”

He starts at the sound of Crowley’s voice, glancing up to find him lounging insouciantly in the doorway. Crowley holds a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. Wedged beneath his arm is a package of Aziraphale’s favorite biscuits. He’d shed his jacket somewhere between the kitchen and the study, the sleeves of his henley pushed up his forearms. Wearing a slight frown, he peers at Aziraphale over the rim of his sunglasses.

“All right?”

Mustering up a weak smile, Aziraphale says, “Oh…dandy. Just tidying up.”

Crowley glances around, sniffing the air. “Smells like you in here now. All…holy.”

“Oh.”Aziraphale feels his cheeks heat. He hadn’t even thought about how the use of his magic in a demonic space might effect Crowley. “I do apologize-”

“No, s’fine.” Crowley makes a show of inspecting the floor where the puddle used to be, peering at the shiny floor grimly. “Doesn’t smell like melted demon anymore. I’d call that a step up.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale drops his gaze to the page on Alpha Centauri once more, spotting a note scribbled in Crowley’s hand in the margin. Transport books?? His heart swells in his chest and he bites his lip, overcome with a wave of fondness strong enough to sway him on his feet again. He grips the edge of the desk to keep himself upright. When he looks up again, Crowley is watching him warily. “You said you were going to leave.”

If it had been anyone but Crowley — anyone Aziraphale had not spent six thousand years learning like a favorite book — then he might have missed the subtle stiffening of his spine or the flex of his fingers around the neck of the wine bottle. But Aziraphale knows Crowley backwards and forwards, the way an academic knows his life’s work. He sees everything — the tightening of his jaw, the slight lift of his brows, the muscle that ticks in his cheek. And so he isn’t surprised when Crowley affects a nonchalant shrug and asks, “When?”

Willing to let him pretend ignorance for now, Aziraphale says, “In the street. When we were-” He drops his gaze again, studying Crowley’s handwriting in the margin of the paper. Aziraphale had already refused to leave with him and he’d still been planning to have him along, making plans to bring all of his books too. “You said you were leaving.”

“Told you.” Crowley sniffs, glancing away. “Stuff happened.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale fidgets, tugging at the sleeve of his coat and smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. “I remember.”

He hadn’t been able to see Crowley’s face but the anguish in his voice had been enough of a clue all on its own. It’s been hours since then and Crowley has certainly managed to pull himself together admirably but Aziraphale hasn’t forgotten what Crowley sounded like when the demon had thought him lost for good. He doesn’t think he ever will.

He lifts his chin, feeling unexpectedly brave at the memory. “But that didn’t really change things, did it? You were planning to go without me anyway.” With a blush, he amends, “That is, I assume you meant I was your best friend and not Ligur-”

Crowley makes a face, nose wrinkled and mouth exasperated as he snaps tiredly, “Ligur, seriously? Course I meant you, numpty.” Under his breath, he mutters, “Hell knows why sometimes.”

“Yes, I quite agree.” Aziraphale clasps his hands together, a futile attempt to still his fidgeting. “I was hardly behaving like a friend at the time. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had gone.”

Crowley sighs, scrubbing a hand over his cheek. “I was never gonna leave without you, angel. Would’ve dragged you kicking and screaming if I had to. Fuck knows what those bastards would’ve done to you if they’d actually succeeded in bringing about Armageddon.”

Aziraphale wobbles again, dangerously unsteady on his feet, but this time he hasn’t the energy to cling to the nearest available surface until the world rights itself beneath him again. His knees buckle and he sinks down, right into the throne behind Crowley’s desk. His eyes sting and his face feels hot and it’s been so long that it takes him a moment to realize he’s about to cry. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he whispers, “I don’t deserve you, Crowley.”

Crowley makes an alarmed noise and drops all his efforts at being aloof, crossing the space between them the way he always does when he knows Aziraphale needs him. What is a simple office space compared to the continents and oceans Crowley has crossed for him before? The wine glasses clatter as he deposits them on the desk, the bottle of wine thunks heavily against the wood, and the package of biscuits winds up somewhere by their feet. Neither of them pays any mind as Crowley drops to his knees in front of Aziraphale and curls his hand over the angel’s thigh.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is gentle but slightly panicked. “Angel, it’s fine. We’re fine.”

He shakes his head, sniffling. “No, I was awful to you.”

Crowley’s grip on him tightens. “It was a stressful few days for everybody. Neither of us were at our best, yeah? It’s forgotten. Look at me.” He strokes his thumb soothingly over Aziraphale’s leg and waits for him to glance up warily. When he sees Aziraphale’s tear-filled eyes, he groans. “Don’t — don’t cry. You know I’m useless when you cry, angel.”

Aziraphale chokes out a wet laugh and says, “Yes, I know.” He sniffles. “You’re my best friend too, Crowley.”

With a tired smile, Crowley nods. “I know.” He looks away suddenly and Aziraphale blinks the tears from his eyes, watching with concern as that tiny smile fades. “I’ve always been able to feel you, angel. Out there in the world somewhere, doing your good deeds.” His lip curls and he shakes his head. When he speaks again, his voice is almost as unsteady as it had been in that pub. “And all of a sudden it just…disappeared. Like a light going out.” He sighs and it comes out more like a hiss as he grits his teeth. He looks up then, his mouth a grim, angry line. “You scared the heaven out of me, Aziraphale. Don’t ever let me catch you with those fucking candles again, got it?”

Lips pursed tightly together, Aziraphale nods and blinks back another wave of tears. “Yes, darling.”

Crowley’s eyes widen at the endearment and Aziraphale can see it even through his dark lenses. His mouth goes slack for a moment before he snaps it shut again and firms it into a tight line. He sniffs and when he speaks, his voice is a soft rasp. “Did you know, Hastur’s trademark is setting fire to things. Regular pyromaniac, he is. S’like his calling card.”

Aziraphale frowns, puzzled by the sudden change in subject but willing to go with it. “Oh?”

“Hmm.” Crowley doesn’t look at him, staring somewhere far off and to the right. His face betrays nothing of his thoughts, a blank mask that does little to put Aziraphale at ease. “And right before I drove to the bookshop and found it in flames, I’d just succeeded in royally pissing him off.”

With a sharp inhale, Aziraphale feels his world tilt again and this time, there is nothing to hang onto. “You thought-”

Crowley finally looks up and his mouth quivers so dangerously that Aziraphale can only stare, longing to brush his thumb over his lips to quell their trembling. “Yeah. Thought I’d killed you.”

“Oh, my dear Crowley. Of course you didn’t.” He lifts a shaking hand and when Crowley nods hesitantly, he slips the sunglasses from his eyes. The fear and adoration shining in equal measure through Crowley’s naked gaze is breathtaking. Aziraphale swallows but the lump in his throat won’t leave this time. “Quite the opposite, really.” He breathes in deeply, forcing the confession past his numb lips. “With you I’ve always felt terribly…safe.”

Crowley doesn’t take the compliment in the spirit in which it was intended, sighing wretchedly instead. “You’ve never been safe with me, Aziraphale. That’s the bloody point. I was so busy pushing you I didn’t stop to think what might happen if anyone actually found out-”

“You were right to push me.” Aziraphale strokes a gentle hand over Crowley’s sharp cheekbone, watching fondly as he shudders at the contact. “In fact, I wish I’d listened to you centuries ago.”

Crowley shakes his head, swallowing. “I could’ve gotten you killed, angel. Or worse, disgraced.”

“It would have been worth it.” Aziraphale smiles tearfully when Crowley lifts his head to stare at him, lips parted in stunned silence. “Crowley, I-”

Crowley shakes his head again, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Don’t,” he says, his voice strangled and desperate. “Not unless you mean it.”

“I always meant it, Crowley,” Aziraphale promises. “Even when I was too afraid to say it.”

Crowley breathes out shakily, a sigh that turns into a quiet, disbelieving laugh. His eyes crinkle at the corners and Aziraphale can see that elusive dimple in his cheek as he presses a gentle, reverent kiss to his palm. He pauses briefly to nose at Aziraphale’s fingertips, dragging his hot mouth over the angel’s palm and stopping at the inside of his wrist to press another lingering kiss just over the erratic pulse there. And when he turns his head and leans up on his knees, Aziraphale meets him halfway.

They sink into each other with ease, as though they’ve had thousands of years of practice instead of longing in silence and trying not to touch too often. Crowley is warm and trembling against him, his mouth carrying a searing heat the likes of which Aziraphale has never known in the stark coldness of heaven. He still smells faintly of brimstone and burning rubber and when Aziraphale lifts a hand to cradle his cheek, he feels stubble and the smudge of ash beneath his fingertips.

And it’s perfect. Better than any fantasy Aziraphale has managed to conjure over the years because it’s real and Crowley wants him and Crowley loves him. Crowley had sat in a pub determined to drink himself into oblivion instead of facing the end of the world without Aziraphale. Crowley had driven a burning car through the M25 because Aziraphale had asked him to. Crowley had stopped time because the idea of never talking to Aziraphale again had frightened him more than even Satan’s fury.

Still kneeling before him, Crowley curls his fingers tightly around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and arches closer as though terrified of losing him even now. Lost in his kiss, Aziraphale makes a silent promise. Before Crowley and the Almighty herself, he vows that with whatever time they have left, he’ll make certain Crowley feels every bit as loved and cared for as he has always made Aziraphale feel.

Without breaking their kiss, Crowley rises sinuously to his feet and almost slithers into the chair until he’s straddling Aziraphale’s lap. His lanky legs bracket Aziraphale in, knees digging into his hips. He barely weighs anything at all, a slight weight against Aziraphale’s thighs and oh, he adores it. Wants to cradle his fragile, darling demon in his arms and keep him safe and happy always.

“Crowley,” he breathes, trembling. “I love you. I love you so-”

“Shh.” Crowley strokes his knuckles tenderly over his cheek, his eyes half-lidded and gleaming golden in the soft light filtering in from the corridor. “I know, angel.”

Aziraphale huffs out a shaky laugh into the hollow of Crowley’s cheek. “Long before I did, I’m sure.”

“Nah. Figured it out eventually though.” Crowley licks his lips and Aziraphale stares, following the movement of his tongue with interest. “And…uh, you know, don’t you?”

Aziraphale blinks and it takes him a moment to stop staring at Crowley’s mouth and realize just what he’s referring to. And then he smiles brightly, thinking of a revelation in the middle of a ruined church. “It’s as you say, my dear. I figured it out eventually.”

Crowley laughs and when he leans in again, they’re both grinning like fools. Fools in love, Aziraphale thinks dizzily, and curls his fingers into the soft material of Crowley’s black shirt. Crowley drapes his arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders, leaning heavily into his chest — kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until Aziraphale feels like crying again.

They stay there, curled around one another and trading soft, wondrous kisses for a short eternity before Crowley finally drops his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder and shudders. “Been imagining this for thousands of years,” he grumbles, ignoring Aziraphale’s surprised little noise. “And when it finally happens, I’m too knackered to even take you to bed.” He groans, equal parts frustration and exhaustion. “Want to ravish you.”

A little thrill shoots down Aziraphale’s spine at the idea of Crowley leading him to bed. Of being ravished. He wriggles a bit in his seat, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s snake tattoo in apology when the demon whimpers miserably. He clears his throat, silently telling his corporation to behave itself.

“Not to worry,” he says, stroking a hand over Crowley’s back. He can feel the notches of his spine over his thin shirt and thinks fleetingly again of how fragile Crowley is beneath all that bluster and the prickly words. “Plenty of time.”

“Is there?” Crowley hides his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, defeat in his tired voice. “You and I both know they’re coming for us, angel.”

Aziraphale thinks of the prophecy tucked away in his pocket and says with confidence, “Then we’ll be ready. Trust me, my dear.”

Though he would probably deny it to Satan himself, Crowley nuzzles at Aziraphale’s ear and mutters, “Always have.”

Wishing he could say the same but knowing deep down that there were very early days when he’d wondered when the demon Crawley would turn against him, Aziraphale doesn’t try to lie. He can only try to be better now, to trust Crowley as implicitly as he had always trusted Aziraphale. It isn’t much but at the moment, it’s all he has to offer.

Clearing his throat softly, he ventures, “We could… move somewhere more comfortable if you’d prefer to sleep.”

Instead of actually replying, Crowley makes a hissing noise Aziraphale assumes must mean move at your own risk.

He huffs, settling in as best he can in Crowley’s straight-backed throne. “Yes, yes,” he says, tutting. “All right. No need to be dramatic.”

Crowley mumbles something that might possibly be insulting and settles more firmly against him, his fingers stroking the hair at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. And Aziraphale sits completely still beneath him, marveling at the feel of Crowley’s fingers in his hair and Crowley’s warm breath against his neck. This is happening. He is holding Crowley and unafraid of the consequences. If this truly is his last night alive, he must admit it’s a rather marvelous end to things.

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, you said…you said it smells like me in here.”

“Yeah…”

Aziraphale bites his lip, turning over the question that’s been on his mind since Crowley had mentioned it days ago. “What do I smell like to you?” Crowley had mentioned that he smelled holy and Aziraphale cannot help worrying that perhaps it pains Crowley, like stepping into that church in 1941 had burnt his poor feet. “Does it…hurt you?”

“Hm, course not.” Crowley slurs, a hiss slipping into his words. He must be nearly asleep by now. “S’just you. Sort of…bookish and soft. Like, dunno, sunshine in a dusty library. An’ cocoa.”

Knowing Crowley would never admit such a thing out loud if he were even a bit more awake at the moment, Aziraphale swallows back a radiant smile and closes his eyes. “Oh,” he breathes, inexplicably relieved. “Good.”

He wraps Crowley tighter in his embrace and as he settles in to wait for dawn, Crowley turns his face into his neck and breathes him in one last time. “Home,” he whispers. “You smell like home.”

Aziraphale feels his fragile human heart swell. “Sleep, darling.” He smooths his palm over Crowley’s back, pressing a firm kiss into his fiery hair. “I’ll still be here when you wake.”

He holds vigil for the remaining hours until daybreak, a demon asleep in his lap and a scrap of ancient paper burning a hole in his pocket. By the time the sun rises over Mayfair, slanting in through the windows in warm yellow stripes, Crowley is just beginning to stir.

It’s the first day of the rest of their lives and as Crowley lifts his head to blink at him sleepily, Aziraphale is loathe to break the hush of dawn. But he’s been waiting hours for Crowley to wake up, sitting in the dark and missing him despite holding him as close as their human bodies will allow. In a giddy whisper, he says, “Good morning.” 

Crowley grunts.

Undeterred, he confides, “My dear, I do believe I have a plan. How do you feel about… Oh, what do the humans call it?” He beams. “Roleplay, I believe.”

Suddenly far more awake, Crowley offers him a slow smirk and drawls, “Got a safeword?”

Blinking, Aziraphale begins, “What-”

“I’ll explain later, angel.” Crowley slides gracefully from his lap, his swagger returned, but there’s no concealing the hint of pink in his cheeks. He stretches lazily, yawning. Aziraphale doesn’t bother trying not to stare. “Think I can manage some crepes if you’re hungry. Then you can tell me all about your clever plan.”

“Oh. Yes.” He’d been so wrapped up in the prophecy and well, Crowley that he’d entirely forgotten to eat a thing last night. “I am a bit peckish.”

“Right. I’ll just-” Crowley jerks a thumb over his shoulder, already beginning to retreat.

“Darling?”

Crowley pauses mid-step at the endearment and he lifts a hand to adjust his glasses, realizing belatedly that he had allowed Aziraphale to take them off last night. Right before they had kissed. Crowley stares and Aziraphale takes great delight in watching the previous night return to him all at once. Running a hand through his rumpled hair, Crowley mutters under his breath, “Not a dream, then.” He clears his throat, straightening from his usual slouch. Slowly, he says, “You and I - we…”

“Yes.”

“And you’re…” He squints at Aziraphale, possibly looking for some hint of angelic guilt. “All right?”

Aziraphale smiles serenely. “For the most part. Though there is one thing that could do with improving, if you’ll indulge me.”

Crowley’s reply is immediate. “Course. What?”

He arches an eyebrow expectantly. “I haven’t much experience in the matter, but I’ve come to understand most lovers exchange a certain type of greeting upon waking together.”

Mouth dropping open, Crowley stutters. “Ngk. Oh.”

And then he’s there, crouching in front of Aziraphale again and crushing those chocolate biscuits he’d dropped last night. For the second time in his very long life, Aziraphale couldn’t care less about the fate of a few biscuits because Crowley is wrapping his strong, slender hand around the back of his neck and swooping in to kiss him heatedly. He licks into Aziraphale’s mouth with that talented tongue and the angel is silently grateful he’s already sitting because his knees go utterly weak.

They part slowly, reluctantly. Their noses brush and when Aziraphale blinks open his eyes, Crowley’s gaze is fixed on him. In the morning light, his eyes are a soft amber and his red hair seems to glow. Voice a low murmur, he asks roughly, “Better?”

Overwhelmed and wanting, Aziraphale buries his face in Crowley’s neck. Lanky arms wrap tight around him. Recalling Crowley’s soft, sleepy confession the night before, he breathes in with a tremulous smile. Leather and brimstone and potting soil. “It’s very good to be home.”

[sparklyafterdark]

[08202019 Helping pissed off CEO Chris] 

You know that look all too well. His face is fixed in an expressionless mask, not frowning or scowling but just blank, and even underneath his suit you can tell how tensed his shoulders are.

This is why you hate these emergency meetings so early in the morning. The day just started and your CEO Chris is already so pissed. He probably hasn't even had his coffee yet when the damn meeting started.

Normally, watching your bosses and higher-ups fighting and spitting venom disguised in niceties and corporate bullshit in front of you would be amusing. This time, you notice how fuming Chris is. Sure, he looks calm and collected to everyone else. But working closely with him for so long, you know his body language better than everyone else in the room, you know the hidden meaning behind his words, and only you can pick up on how he doesn't slam his fingers on the keyboard of his laptop but you can tell from the slightly crunchier sound of the clicks alone that he has a lot of steam to blow. 

It was so hard to focus on the already senseless meeting when all you can think of is how good his hands will look digging into your hips and gripping you hard as he-

No. 

You can't let your mind go there. Seriously? Fantasizing about your hot boss while you're supposed to be working? You're probably even more stressed than him for having wet dreams in broad daylight. 

You watch him intently as you pretend to be busy typing things on your laptop. Your mind just can't help but wander with his newly dyed dark silver hair, sharp eyes that look so intense even when he's not glaring, and strong, solid arms.

Much to your relief, the meeting ended earlier than expected. Maybe they eventually realized how unproductive it actually is with so many things not ironed out before they began. Anyway, Chris is still pissed. He leaned back in his seat, his jaw tensed in a way only you can notice, and ordered everyone out of the room. 

"Need a coffee, Sir?" You stand up and start to unplug and turn off the speakers and TV used for the conference call, ready to head out. Even though you've been working together for quite some time now and you're one of the very few people who can actually approach him when he's mad, you're still very careful not to step on his toes and aggravate his mood. You know that during these situations it would be best to just leave him to cool down alone. After you get him his coffee, that is.

"I do, but there's something else I need more right now," He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration once then goes back to his cool facade.

"Alright then, let me get it for you?" 

He laughs softly, a smirk forming on his face. "Come here,"

You're confused by his request but you put down your laptop and tumbler, walking hesitantly to his end of the long rectangular conference table and grabbing a chair, pushing it closer to him. 

"You won't be needing that," Your brows furrowed in confusion when he grabbed your hand that's still gripping the backrest of the chair. His grip is soft and undemanding like he's giving you a chance to pull away but his eyes tell an entirely different story. "You have the best seat in the house,"

Chris pats his lap and lifts your hand from the chair, grabbing it gently like he's asking for your hand in a dance, but you know it's something else he wants. You're not sure if you're only hallucinating but his warm hands and hypnotizing eyes right in front of you pull you back to reality. Your feet have no control anymore and you give in to his wishes.

With a firm pull on your arm you find yourself sitting sideways on his lap. He licks his lips and looks up at you with a sly smile, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears.

"I guess you now know what I want, baby girl," He hums in a low voice, cupping your chin in his fingers. 

Is this even real? Your heart is racing at the thought of your wet dreams coming true. You couldn't count how many times you've fantasized about this moment, how many times you've gotten off at the thought of him, the man who you thought was totally unreachable now underneath you.

Words are totally lost on you and you could only nod in response. Instantly, Chris crashes his lips into yours and you melt under his touch. One of his hands finds its way to your thighs, stroking higher and higher until he reaches inside your skirt, while the unbuttons your shirt, and your hands pull him closer by the hair. Your soft sighs and your hips unconsciously grinding against his thighs in an attempt to get more friction make him kiss you even hungrier, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip and asking for entrance. 

You moan into the kiss when you feel him undoing your bra and slipping off your panties, throwing both pieces of underwear under the table. His kisses grow more desperate, pretty much shoving his tongue down your throat as he fondles your breasts, until he moves down your jaw to your chest, sucking angry purple bruises in the areas hidden by your shirt.

"S-Sir, I- I need-" You were shut up by his lips returning to yours, biting down on your bottom lip and making you whimper in pain and pleasure as he pries your thighs apart and pushes two fingers into your dripping wetness with no warning. You keen at the sudden pleasure, moaning a bit too loudly, your voice echoing through the soundproof walls.

"You don't get to tell me what to do baby girl…" He pulls away from your lips to look at the faces you make as he's finger-fucking you, curling his fingers to brush past your weak spot. "Look how wet you are for me… You've always wanted this, don't you? Do you think I don't notice how you look at me? Do you think I don't know how much you want me to use your tight little pussy? Hmm?" 

He asks but doesn't let you answer. He pulls his fingers out to let you suck on them instead just as your climax bubbles in your core, letting you taste yourself, the satisfied grin on his face growing wider as you feel his cock grow harder underneath you. 

"On your knees," Chris stands up to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down and you watch the entire time, kneeling down on the carpet in front of him. "Let's put that pretty mouth to good use, will you? Will you let Sir fuck your mouth, baby girl?"

"Yes Sir, use me," Your voice is small and weak and you're surprised how you can still even make any sounds that aren't moans and whimpers. He guides his tip to your lips and you open up right away, lapping up the leaking pre-cum before he shoves his entire length into your mouth until his tip hits the back of your throat. You grow even wetter at the sound of his grunts and heavy breathing, his thrusts getting harder everytime you swallow around him and lick the base of his cock.

"That's it baby, fuck, so good," He loves it especially when you gag on his length and your eyes prickle with tears, a smirk forming on his lips as he admires your fucked out face. A few more rough thrusts of his hips and he pulls out, hissing and groaning as he tightly squeezes the base of his cock so he won't cum yet. Once he's fully sure he won't explode with another touch, he pulls you up by both arms and shrugs off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves and opens the buttons on his shirt revealing his perfectly sculpted abs, and kicks off his pants entirely. 

You swallow hard at the sight before you and you're probably already drooling. You've seen him shirtless before during past company trips but this is a whole new level of hot. Seeing him so feral and disheveled is a welcome change to his usually polished exterior. You've always known he had a wild streak but to actually experience it? Fuck, it felt like a dream. The veins on his arms look angrier than normal as he pushes you face down on the table and lifts your skirt, slamming his length into you and pounding hard without letting you adjust to his size. One hand gripping your waist so tight it's going to leave bruises and the other hand pulling on your hair, his pace is merciless the moment he entered, leaving you screaming his name in ways you never thought was possible. 

You truly are lucky. Chris is so, so good, you can only imagine how many girls are dying to have a taste of him wherever he goes yet here you are bent over on his conference room table, seeing stars everytime he sinks into you.

Soon enough his thrusts get even more relentless, filling the room with wet slapping sounds and the most obscene moans, the pressure building in your gut until you clench hard around him, your senses clouded in bliss as he pulls out and turns you around to release in your mouth. Trembling hands tilt your chin up so he can watch you choke on his cum. He watches you in delight as you swallow every last drop, swiping his thumb at the corner of your mouth to catch any drips. 

Still shaking from your high and looking like an absolute mess, you reach under the table to find your underwear but Chris pulls you back, pinning you down on the carpet. He hasn't gotten dressed yet, his crisp white shirt that was perfectly ironed barely an hour ago now hanging open and crumpled on his torso. 

"Where do you think you're going?" He positions himself between your legs and strokes his cock as it starts to stiffen again. 

"I thought you still needed coffee?" You chuckle as you completely unbutton your top. Chris laughs with you and reaches up the table to get your phone and hands it to you. 

"Fuck coffee, cancel my meeting at 10, tell them I have an emergency appointment."