#these two arseholes are absolutely unbearable

[therogerclarkfanclub]

Man, Twitter today was just pathetically sad. Roger was getting jumped left and right by stupid Twitter trolls who think AI is "not a big deal" and "who cares if I copy someone's voice, 'just for the lulz' ", and on top of that, several idiots assuming that Roger makes 10s of 1000s of dollars on each film/theater/TV role he gets, was just beyond sad.

Don't get me wrong, me being a huge fanboy of him I wish him nothing but the absolute best. Is he laughing his way to the bank? I sure hope so! I, for one, would be happy that his acting career is paying off and he is able to make loads of cash. Now, is this actually the case? I do not have the slightest clue, but I am not about to turn into a jealous arsehole if this were to be the case.

The hate he was receiving was just unbearably bad. What? A person cannot defend their own work? Their livelihood? Their means to put food on their table? Are actors are not entitled to receive fair compensation for putting their talents to work? Whether those talents are through Mocap or voice acting or just good ol' fashioned acting?

This screenshot below was one of the most pathetic things I've ever read, and clearly they don't know much about software licensing. And for the record, neither do I. All I know is that just because I buy a physical copy of RDR2 doesn't mean I own the assets inside that disc. It's still Rockstar's property. Arthur and the entire VDL gang still belongs to them, I am merely paying to have access and enjoy what Rockstar has made, but no, it is not "mine".

And even worse to think that someone "works" for you just because you paid a measly $60.00?? 😂

I don't even know what to say to this MFer here. This is just the tip of the iceberg for the level of stupidity Roger was dealing with today. But Roger, not being one to back down, dealt a quick swift burn to this MFer. Good for him.

But the entire saga is just nasty. I am only posting those two screenshots and honestly that is too much.

[emiliasilverova]

[FIC] Achillean Delights

So. I didn't post anything here for the last two days, trying so hard to finish this fic... and just as I'm ready to post, AO3 is DDoSed by greedy arseholes who like neither smut nor LGBTQ+ content.

How ironic.

Ain't nobody stop me from posting shameless LGBTQ+ smut, and you from being able to read it. I did create a Dreamwidth (that I'll likely use to backup my AO3) but I'm too lazy to set it up for now... therefore, see you under the cut for the fic in question (both for length and spice 🌶️).

Before anything, my memory is good enough to remember exactly how I tagged this fic, so there you go:

Title: Achillean Delights Chapters: 1/1  Fandom: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond - All Media Types  Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  Relationships: James Bond/Alec Trevelyan  Characters: James Bond, Alec Trevelyan  Additional Tags: One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Banter, Oral Sex, First Time Blowjobs, Edging, Power Play, Boys Being Boys, Decadence, Developing Relationship, James Bond Is Good At Sex, Shameless James Bond, Alec Is A Spoiled Brat, They Shared Everything, MI6 Cafe 007 Fest 2023, Community: MI6 Cafe | mi6_cafe  Word Count: 1529 Summary:

Alec spends a lovely, lively time in James's expert hands—not to mention, expert mouth.

As always do give some love to @samanthahirr for the lovely beta ♥️ Some edits she made here are especially *chef kiss*

And now, do enjoy the fic, hehe.

***

Is Alec the victor or the vanquished in this moment? Hell if he knows. All he feels is the supreme pleasure shrouding him whole—sending warm waves through his body, robbing him of any articulate thought.

He’s splayed on a velvety armchair, one of his favourites among the many antiques he owns. All he wears is a wide open shirt; the way it exposes his chest paints an even more indecent picture than if he were naked from head to toe. His bare legs are parted wide; one of his hands curls into short, thick dark hair. Wet sounds and heavy breathing fill the air, their obscenity a heady aphrodisiac.

This is the most exceptional blowjob Alec has ever received, no question about it. He could stay like this forever—head empty, cock surrounded by warm, luscious lips. Very talented lips, of course; Alec wouldn't settle for any less. Or would he? On second thought, skill alone has never made him quite so intoxicated. Perhaps, then, the defining factor isn’t what, but rather whom he’s surrendering himself to.

Case in point, James Bond.

The sight is mesmerising, almost surreal to Alec. James bobbing his head up and down, catching some air and getting right back to work… all with genuine, communicative enthusiasm. James, of all people. The friend, the rival Alec has known for more years than he’d care to count. The man he thought he’d never fuck outside of his most outrageous fantasies, here in the flesh.

Not so long ago, Alec would’ve refused to believe that James could get on his knees of his own accord—let alone with such absolute confidence. Yet there he is, giving a bravura performance as if it were nothing. 

Warmth, wetness, pressure… they're all applied to perfection. Alec can't help but dip his head back and close his eyes, clawing at his own chest to suppress a moan. What little control he has over James or himself quickly dissolves as he drifts off into sweet abandon. Right where he wants to be; dangerously exposed, but in the safest of hands. 

Without warning, James marks a pause in his ministrations. Alec springs back to alertness, but his muscles aren't as quick to engage. All he can do is watch as his long cock drops from James’s mouth. It feels heavy as it rests in the unbearable cold, a deeper shade of red than just a minute ago. 

“What’s so funny?” Alec breathes, catching the hint of derision in James’s oh-so-tantalising grey eyes.

James stands up and takes hold of the shaft’s upper half. When he gives it a gentle squeeze, a glistening bead of precome appears at the tip. “I never figured you were so messy.”

Too languid to fight back, Alec squints. “Good thing you’re here to clean the mess, then, isn't it?”

“Is that all I'm here for?” 

Now James strokes with just his fingertips—too softly to give Alec what he wants, but enough to keep him hard and aching for more. An unacceptable ordeal. Alec’s first instinct is to thrust his hips upwards for more stimulation… but James removes his hand at once. The bastard.

“Your mouth, James,” Alec hisses.

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“Oh, spare me the aphorisms, damn you.”

Alec lunges to pull James’s hair. Less of a dirty move than leaving him high and dry, in his mind. James catches his wrist before he can succeed and drives him back into his seat. Then James bends, inching his face closer and closer. Alec could use his free hand to force it down, but decides to hold James’s cheek instead. Their lips touch; soon enough, they lock into a passionate kiss.

Tasting himself on James’s tongue isn't as intimidating as Alec expected. In fact, it dissipates the last inhibitions he was clinging to. He shifts and captures James’s lower lip, resolute to take the lead. James lets him have his way, but still provides a little resistance to spur on Alec's ardour. The battle ends when they both run out of breath, bringing them to a brief standstill. 

“James…” 

Alec’s whisper is very much a plea at this point. In response, James cups Alec’s face and gazes into his eyes. James’s hands are warm and soothing, his smile tender—although somewhat inscrutable. What’s on his mind exactly? The relish of having Alec at his total mercy? Knowing his insufferable ego, that’s got to be it.

Feigning to go for another kiss, Alec moves his head forward… and bites the lip offered to him. Not so hard as to draw blood, but still making James recoil in surprise.

“Rude, positively rude,” James says, his tone half-disapproving, half-amused as he brings his fingers to his mouth.

It’s Alec’s turn to grin now, full of mischievous defiance. “Keep me waiting any longer, and I’ll be just as rude as you deserve.”

James snorts. The mischief proves contagious; even as he finally kneels down again, he can’t be bothered to hurry up. He doesn’t return to what’s expected of him, either. Alec moves to prod him along, but is caught short by the latest weapon from James’s arsenal—kisses to the inside of his thigh. 

The novel sensation gets the better of Alec, who slumps back into his seat. James jumps at the opportunity for petty revenge and sinks his teeth right into the delicate skin. The infuriating man knows exactly what he’s doing, applying just the right amount of bite to set his victim’s blood ablaze. 

Without realising, Alec caresses himself again. As his other thigh is given equal attention, his wandering hand finds his own erect nipple. He flicks it greedily, his delight too strong for the remnants of his self-consciousness to put up a fight. 

James’s lips on his balls send a jolt through Alec’s body. His toes curl, his hands no longer know where to go; back to his chest, onto the armrests, or into the shiny, crow-black hair—James’s greatest vanity. James licks and lightly pulls, and Alec submits. The all-consuming pleasure almost sends him over the edge, but he manages to hold back. There is no way he’ll let himself be robbed of his climax in James’s mouth, however deep under James’s spell he may get.

When it becomes clear that James’s next target is his swollen tip, Alec’s heart pounds. The moment he’s been yearning for is imminent… or would be, if James would stop teasing him for once in his godforsaken life. Instead, James laps up the slow, thin trickle at the slit, pushing Alec to feverish levels of anticipation. 

“James, for fuck’s sake—”

At last, the wet heat of James’s mouth engulfs his pin-straight cock. Alec lets out a long, uncontrolled moan as intense relief washes over him. He should be livid at how James made him beg for it a second time, but he doesn’t care anymore. This is what he wants, and James is giving it to him… anything else is irrelevant.

The fuse already burns bright within him, lit up by the fast, thorough suction up and down his length. Fingers roll his balls, while others form a tight ring around the base of his shaft, friction eased by a generous coating of precome and saliva. Alec squirms in his armchair, his breath ragged. He tries to keep up with such fervent worship as long as he can, but he knows the inevitable is upon him. 

When Alec sits up and starts pushing down on his head, James doesn’t flinch. Good boy. He keeps sucking in earnest, relentless and undaunted. As the irresistible pressure builds up, Alec’s muscles contract. This is both too much and not enough. He groans and mumbles incoherently—euphoric from being at the centre of the universe, light-headed from being so close. So very close…

Alec cries out, swept away by the force of his orgasm. James firmly holds onto his shaking thighs, but doesn’t remove his mouth as Alec fills it with warm come. Alec’s cock keeps pulsing for a few seconds, as long as it takes to release so many years’ worth of longing. There is nothing left on his mind during this incredible high… save for complete, unadulterated satisfaction.

James lets go, and Alec collapses, panting. Numbing weakness takes hold of him as he basks in the afterglow. After some time, he manages to half-open his eyes again—only to be greeted by the most handsome sight he’s ever witnessed. James looking at him with a sly smile, his sun-kissed skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat, dishevelled and untidy. Alec wants to kiss him hard, to mark him as his conquest… but that would have to wait until he can move again. For now, all he can do is smile back.

In response, James bends over him again. Alec expects a kiss, but he couldn’t be more wrong. James takes his softening cock as deep as he can, puckers his lips tight and slides off in one expert motion. He gives a few more licks to leave Alec impeccably clean, and swallows.

Alec cannot believe his eyes. “Good lord, James.”

James chuckles, shameless. Then, in his most suave tone, he answers, “I aim to please.”

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (872): Wed 7th Aug 2024

Edinburgh Fringe day2 and after checking out of the hostel (which I've noticed I always sleep very soundly in. You know how some people can't piss if there's someone standing next to them? Maybe I can't sleep unless there's someone asleep in a bed directly above me) I headed off for my first show of the day: Glitch. This was a monologue style play about a woman returning home for her ten year high school reunion and confronting her turbulent relationship with her mother. The actress was really good but unfortunately I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and I had to start pinching myself to make sure I wouldn't fall asleep. It wasn't because the story was boring or the acting wasn't good and as I've just discussed I slept like a baby last night, but for some reason I felt like I was about to nod off. Also to make matters worse there were arseholes drilling outside which made it hard to hear what the actress was saying as this venue had very thin walls as it's essentially a converted shipping container. Word of advice to future performers: set your play on a fucking building site because the noise from outside will create a perfect ambience and you won't need to hire a sound effects person. I still enjoyed it as the actress was very good I just hope she didn't notice that I was desperately trying to force myself not to nod off. I suspected that it may have been because I hadn't had a coffee this morning so before the next show I ducked into a cafe and got myself a nice strong mocha to wake myself the fuck up. My final show of this year's Fringe was just around the corner at Zoo Southside. This show was titled "The Signalman" and was about a train station signalman recounting the story of a recent derailing that resulted in many deaths right near his station. He confides in the audience that since then he's been haunted by visions of a shadowy figure standing at the other side of the tunnel waving at him and crying out "watch out". This was really well performed and the use of shadow, light and spooky sound effects gave off the impression that someone or something was constantly watching. The one thing that marred the show was that right near the end four old dickheads left just as the show was clearly coming to an end. They all were about seventy five and I suspect they only came into this show to hide from the Grim Reaper and left when the play started getting scary as they didn't want to drop dead from fright. I think the twist at the end of the play was that it was the signalman from the future at the other end of the tunnel warning himself about the upcoming collision or something I dunno. That's the only shitty thing about these shows at the festival it's not like you can go onto Wikipedia for a plot summary and you can't go up to the actor afterwards and ask what the play meant or you'll just look like an absolute moron. Well whatever it was about I enjoyed it and at least I didn't fall asleep or walkout with two minutes to go like a cunt would. I still had an hour or so before my train home so I went to a restaurant up the road from the train station and got myself a nice vegan burger and a beautiful non-alcoholic cocktail as I reflected on all the highlights from this Fringe. As much as I have enjoyed these festivals over the years I don't know if I want to come back again. The shows themselves are good but finding ways to kill time in between the shows is hard and also the amount of constant noise in the city and the rushing around to get to shows is becoming unbearable. I remember having the same feeling about London when I went there earlier this year to see AC/DC. It's a beautiful city but I think I've seen enough of it now and I need to start exploring some other places. At the very least I think I'm just going to reduce this visit to a one day thing. I'll get the train down at six in the AM and just spend nine hours going to show after show then getting the train back that night.

[absolute-zero-11]

[newtonsheffield]

I need the after date spice in thank u, next🌶🌶. I mean he had her locked up in his house for two days 😂😂

Oh he did have her in his house for a full 36 hours before she sheepishly said

“Do you want to come… meet my Mum? As you know, she makes great pancakes, and she keeps chocolate milk in the fridge for me still, and she… she’s nice. And my sister will be there, and her girlfriend and-”

“You aren’t sick of me yet?”

“Nope, come to breakfast with me.”

And it burns in his chest. “Okay then, I’ll come to breakfast.”

It had been absolutely, the best first date of Kate’s entire life, well, apart from the beginning. Anthony had messaged her, just as she was leaving,

I’m really excited to see you again.

And she hadn’t been able to stop herself from snapping a picture of herself in front of the mirror, the new dress that she’d spent hours picking out in the store, feeling like a vice around her anxiety already settling in before she'd left the house.

This is me, just in case you've forgotten what I look like.

And just as she'd gotten off the tube, near the restaurant, Her phone had dinged again,

I could never forget that.

And even so, when she'd looked up and seen him standing outside the restaurant, the most enormous bouquet of tulips she'd ever seen, staggering under the weight of them surely, his sport coat (oh god, it was actually fucking tweed, why was that so fucking hot?!) neatly pressed over his jeans, his hair artfully tousled, even more unbearably handsome than he had been when she'd pulled him close his afternoon.

"Kate! Hi, Kate!" Anthony had caught sight of her, stumbling forward a little, his eyes raking over her, his voice a little breathless. "Wow, you look- Fuck, you must hear this all the time but you're so beautiful."

It fluttered oddly in her chest, a man who just hours before had told her he was falling in love with her, without ever having met her. "I don't hear it that often."

"Well, I'll tell you again then, Kate you're beautiful tonight, and you were beautiful today, and every other time I've seen you." He darted forward, leaving an awkward kiss against her cheek, his arm still resting tentatively on her waist, as he nudged the flowers towards her, "These are for you, I wasn't sure what you-"

"They're beautiful, thank you, and you look very- nice, but you didn't have to-" Her cheeks were burning.

"I wanted too. Beautiful women deserve flowers." He said it so simply, like it was actually what he believed, his arm still resting on her waist, relaxing against her a little as she didn't flinch away. and she couldn't help herself from darting forward, her lips brushing his chastely for a long moment.

Anthony looked a little awestruck when she pulled back, his free hand raking through his hair, his breath escaping him in a odd whoosh. "We should probably um- I called in a bit of a favour to get the table at um-short notice and I don't want them to give it away."

She nodded, following him towards the door, his hand still burning on her hip. And she really hadn't given much thought to it, when he'd said his family owned magazines, but it seemed so obvious now, the hundreds of pounds of flowers she was carrying, the restaurant the most expensive she'd ever set foot in, the way the hostess fumbled over herself

"of course, Mr Bridgerton, just this way-" anxiety swelling in her stomach as she settled across the table from him, the hostess saying quickly, "Perhaps I could get a vase?"

"That'd be great, thank you." Anthony smiled politely up at her, his eyes turning to the menu as she walked away. "Sorry, do you like Japanese food? I never- I just- We can go somewhere-"

"Are you a big Deal?" Kate cut him off her head tilted curiously, Anthony's eyes wondering a little with a sigh.

"My family is... Well off."

"That's what rich people say."

"Is it a problem if I am?" His own head was tilted now, eyes watching her closely. Insecurity rising in her chest.

"Depends how much of an arsehole you are about it."

Anthony chuckled, "I can definitely be an arsehole, but I like to think I'm a good guy when it counts. If you just give me a chnce, I promise I'll be the guy you were talking too."

It settled on her shoulders, something burning together around them already, tension thickening in the air, "sorry, I just- I feel awkward, because it kind of feels like I already know you, this doesn't feel like a first date."

"Let's not call it that then." He grinned at her across the table, his attention snapping away as the waitress returned with the vase, "Thanks so much Ashley. Can we order some drinks please?"

He was polite, kind, gentle, the entire night, quickly scribbling something that looked suspiciously like 100 on the tip line, snapping the bill shut before she could see it, his hand politely on her waist as they left again, conversation flowing easily as they stood outside.

And god she wanted. wanted to feel his hands on her, to feel his arms tight around her, safe and warm and powerful, to feel his lips on hers, feel him pressed against her, the emotional connection already between them growing stronger by the second.

"I had a really nice time with you." Anthony's voice was gentle in her ear, the edges of his blazer pulled around her as well as they stood facing one another on the curb outside.

"I had a great time as well."

Their eyes caught together, his soft smile tugging her forward until their lips met, a groan building in Anthony's chest while her hand slipped into his hair, her tongue slipping over his, heat settling in her stomach and-

"Kate?"

A man's voice she didn't recognise had called out, tugging them apart in her surprise. A man in a suit was standing next to a town car, the door held open, looking expectantly at her.

Anthony cleared his throat, "Thanks Mark." he turned back to her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I ordered you a car to take you home."

Oh.

Disappointment welled in her chest, stepping back from him, "So you had a good time in like a I don't really want to do this again way.'

Anthony's eyes widened in surprise, "What?! No! I just- fuck! I didn't want to pressure you, and-"

"Anthony ask me to go back to your house." Why shouldn't she ask for it? She wanted it, wanted him and apparently she'd have to be explicit.

"Kate do you want to come back to my flat?" Anthony said quickly, his lips chasing hers, "I'm like... I'm good at sex."

Ridiculous laughter built in her chest as she took his hand tugging him toward the car, "I hope that's true."

It should have been awkward, going back to his flat, both of them knowing exactly what they were doing, no pretence between them as they sat in the back of the car. But it wasn't. Everything about it felt comfortable, natural, as she tugged his lips to hers, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His lips were soft, moving roughly over hers, swallowing the gasps and moans rising in her. anthony's hands settled on her waist, the privacy screen already up in the back of the car, tugging gently until she was straddling him, his hands on her thighs, his eyes burning into hers.

"You don't know how much I thought about this. Even when I thought I shouldn't be thinking about you, I couldn't fucking stop."

His voice was low and gravelly, drawing her in, tugging her lips back to his effortlessly, letting them nip and suck at his neck, the whines falling from his lips shivering down her spine and-

The car pulled to a gentle stop, an impatient sigh falling from Anthony's lips as he settled her gently back in her own seat before he leapt from the car, sprinting around to open her door, helping her from it, his arm around her waist again as he waved to the driver, waved jovially to the doorman,

"John, This is Kate, if you Could just put her on my list. Kate Sharma, S-H-A-R-M-A. Cheers Mate, have a good night."

And then they were alone again, Anthony letting her push him against the wall of the lift, her legs bracketing one of his, lips nipping at his neck again, the taste of him heady, sweet and salty, the scent of his cologne almost too enticing.

"Kate." Anthony's voice was a whine pushing her gently backwards. "If you don't stop I'm gonna get evicted for indecency in the public spaces."

She chuckled as the doors opened, Anthony tugging her out, into his living room. "Promises Promises."

She looked around a little curiously, the city skyline spread out before them, floor to ceiling windows, her eyes rolling as Anthony wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You live in a penthouse."

"I told you I was a bit of an arsehole." His lips were on her neck, nipping and sucking, his tongue laving over her, hand tangled in her hair, giving himself better access, "Fuck I love the way you feel."

He walked her forwards, until her hands braced her on the kitchen counter, cold marble making her shiver, his knee nudging her legs apart. One of his hands was spread against her stomach, pulling her back against his chest the other tickling at her thighs, slipping further and further up her legs.

"So we know I thought about you, Did you think about me? When you took those little pictures for me, Kate? Did you grind against your mattress and fuck yourself thinking about me?" His voice was rough his lips teasing her, the sound of his jacket hitting the floor, his shirt sleeves rolled.

Kate's head nodding desperately, "Yes."

"Do you want me to do it now?" She nodded again, his hand slipping higher and higher up her thigh, tickling, tracing little patterns, her hips trying to buck down against him.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

Kate's eyes shot open. "Wh-what?"

"You're probably not going to get much tonight is all." He looked so handsome grinning at her over her shoulder, his hand playing with the zip of her dress. "Can I?"

She nodded again, biting back a curse as he tugged the zip down his lips kissing each inch as it appeared to him, letting her step out of it.

"Christ you're stunning." It seemed pulled from his chest, his lips finding hers over her shoulder and-

"Oh fuck"

They said it together as his hand slipped into her knickers, moving gently over her, his hand back on her stomach, tugging her in place against him, letting her feel him, the hard planes of his chest, his muscled arms taught around her, the power coiled there, the way his lips were nipping at her shoulder, his fingers dipping inside her, his voice in her ear pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Fuck Kate, you feel even better than I imagined, look at you, fuck you're so beautiful, so stunning, come on, let go, it's okay, it's okay.

and she couldn't help it. It was too overwhelming, too much, his hands gripping and tugging at her, the feeling of him, heat building so quickly that she couldn't hold on-

"Anthony!"

Her mouth fell open in a silent scream , shuddering back against him, his hands holding her in place.

He spun her gently, her shoulders still heaving, his lips brushing hers gently, tongue tangling before he stepped back, bringing his fingers to his mouth with a satisfied hum, something burning in her own chest as his lips bucked against her, pinning her in place between him and the marble counter, at the taste of her.

"Well I'll have to try that later." He hummed, a slightly smug grin in his face, his hair falling in his eyes, "For now, if I could ask you to um- the bedroom's-"

Kate shook her head, leaning forward, pressing her chest against his, lips finding his neck.

"Right-yeah. Of course. If you don't wanna-"

Kate shook her head again, pushing lightly against his chest until he stumbled backwards.

"Oh I want, Anthony. But it seems a shame to go all the way to the bedroom when you haven't even finished what you started in the kitchen."

She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tasting his whine on her tongue, his buttons scattering the floor, her tongue running over the planes of his chest, tugging at his belt, Anthony's hips bucking helplessly against her hand.

His hands found her legs tugging with a grunt until her legs were wrapped around his waist, stumbling forwards until she was seated oin the counter, his teeth clashing with hers, bruising the skin of her neck, of her collarbone, his hands roaming everywhere and-

And suddenly he was gone, His eyes narrowed, staring down at her, "Are we seeing other people?"

She could barely concentrate through the fog, her hips grinding against him, her voice breathless, "I'm not seeing other people. I don't want to."

Anthony's grin was beautiful and brilliant and bright, "You wanna be my girlfriend?"

Why was it so cute? Why was he so cute? While his hands tilted her hips, and his hips ground down against her through their underwear, "Yes. Now please Anthony, please."

He didn't wait. It felt like it happened in a blink of the eye, her underwear torn from her body, his own disappearing, his hand tangled in her hair, holding her forehead against his, his hips moving firmly against hers and

"Oh Fuck"

She wasn;t sure which one of them said it, him, her, maybe both of them, his hips grinding against her, the cool marble of his worktop in contrast to the heat of his body making her spine shiver, arching towards him.

It was just like she'd imagined, his arms tight, muscles coiled tight as he moved powerfully against her, rough and gentle and heady all at the same time, his tongue tangling with hers swallowing every filthy noise they made together the sounds of the bodies moving, desperate for one another bouncing off the tiled walls, his voice aching,

Jesus Kate. Oh my god, I can't I can't breathe, holy shit, Holy fuck, it's never this good, you're so perfect, perfect babe, oh Fuck! Fuck! Kate!

His name ripped from her chest over and over her throat raw, until she couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but gasp and moan and whine against him.

His forehead fell to her shoulder, teeth nipping at her, leaving bruises against her skin that she wanted to keep forever, her vision blurring at the edges and-

She couldn't stop it, heat flashing white out through her, her vision white as well, as she shuddered against him, his name wrenched from her chest. Anthony's hips bucked erratically against her, a feral growl ripping through his chest, his hips stuttering and then everything went still.

Kate didn't know how long they stayed there together, slumped against Anthony's kitchen counter, their laboured breathing filling the room, her chuckle more than breathless

"So you weren't lying about being good at sex."

Anthony's head shot up with a satiated grin, his lips finding hers, "Is it cool if I eat you out for a little bit until I get-" He gestured vaguely, "-this back? I thought we could do it against the window."

And by the time they fell onto his pillows together hours later, Kate could barely remember her own name.

She was stiff, when she woke in the morning, it was the first thing she realised, not sore just... protesting a little. The second thing she realised was that it was hot. It was November, and she was sweating, something heavy draped the length of her, as though she was wrapped in a weighted blanket with a hot water bottle. Her eyes flickered open, and she realised immediately, that it wasn't a weighted blanket at all, it was Anthony, draped over her, snoring contentedly.

He looked so young, in sleep, making a happy little noise that settled in her chest, her words for yesterday echoing again, I think I'm falling in love with you. She leaned forward, kissing the slight crease between his eyebrows, a smile rising to her lips as he hummed, nestling closer to her.

Anthony's eyes shot open, his hair sticking up in a million different directions, his face squashed and sleepy and adorable, eyes widening as he took her in,

"Hey."

"Hey."

His lips found hers, soft and gentle fluttering in her chest.

"what are you doing today?" He'd slid down her a little, his chin resting on the tattoo in her sternum, his head tilted curiously, like an adorable puppy.

Kate hummed, her fingers finding her hair. "I have absolutely nowhere to be until 10:30 tomorrow. Then I have brunch at my Mum's. Why?"

Anthony's eyes were dark, his tongue tracing the ink on her skin. "I have an uber eats account, and about 15 more positions I want you in. " Heat burned in her stomach, tugging at her "Just stay here with me, Stay with me until you have to go."

Kate pretended to think about it, humming dramatically, "I'm going to need an electrolyte drink or eight but you've got yourself a deal if one of those positions includes me sitting on your face."

Anthony groaned, his hips bucking against his mattress, "Yes fucking please."

Hours and hours later, when she sat on his living room floor, surrounded by more food than she could ever eat, just for lunch he'd said, I'll get you something else for dinner. And she finally fumbled through her clutch for her phone, Anthony's lips on her neck she couldn't help but laugh when she read Edwina's message.

Please tell me you're alive and I don't have to explain to Mum tomorrow that a white man has slain you.

Her fingers shaking a little as she typed out-

Don't worry he's only slain *one* part of my body 👅👅👅👅

And the response came back:

Lose this fucking number 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

[loupettes]

Hi! Here I am again, since I loved your insights on Doomsday. ;-)

So, let's continue talking about Ten's behaviour, this time in Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel.

In my opinion, Ten is rather distant and almost assholey towards Rose in this two-parter, especially when compared to Nine's incredible tenderness in Father's Day (and this despite the whole end-of-the-world + mutual-insults situation!). I totally understand what he says to her (that Parallel Pete is not her father, that her father died when she was 6 months old...) but... would it hurt you to also take her hand, hug her, say something about how you are sorry for what she must be feeling? So, I wonder[ed] why Ten behaves like this.

In this case, I had tried to answer myself by considering two hypotheses:

- "GitF is canon/it fits into S2" --> then I would sort of explain Ten's behaviour with keeping in line with his distancing from Rose and pushing her back towards Mickey after School Reunion and GitF;

- "GitF was originally planned as an episode at the beginning of S1, therefore is not to be considered canon" --> Yeah, Ten still is worried about his relationship with Rose, as of School Reunion, but then... is Mickey being aboard (and once again close to Rose) enough to justify Ten's distance?

What do you think?

TIA!

Hey! Firstly, I am so so sorry this has taken me nearly two weeks to reply to - life got in the way, deadlines and ridiculously unjust work demands, and then I lost all my DW files and have slowly had to re-download them 😂 but I'm here now! And I’m glad to see you in my inbox - hello lovely! Ah, yes. Rise of the Cyberman. Post-GITF Ten. I can’t believe I’m about to agree with your hypothesis that GITF is canon but... here we are! And you're right, ten is an absolute arsehole to Rose in this episode, just as he is in GITF, and just as he is in SR. Honesty, its a wonder why we ship them??

Stuck with you, that's not so bad. If I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. How long are you going to stay with me? Forever. I made my choice a long time ago and I'm never going to leave you. Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth! Does it need saying? Rose, her name was, Rose, and we were together. Tonight's a night for lost things being found. Who's gonna hold his hand now?

ah right yes, that's why 😭 ANYWAY I digress. Ten's behaviour in ROTC is very... Ten. And his reaction, compared to Nine's, when Rose meets her dad is very different. But... understandable. Not condoning Ten's behaviour!! But, for a moment let's forget GITF exists (I mean, if you've not already): Nine almost lost her to her dad. She's the one man she was happy to be stuck with ('stuck with you that's not so bad' FEELINGS 😭), and Nine initially shrugs it off. 'Fine, see if I care' sort of attitude (which, we all know he does, he's just frustrated that he's let himself fall for a girl he shouldn't really have). Ten adopts the complete opposite: he panics. He's desperate to keep her with him now, regardless of what's gone on in the last few episodes. But see, the previous episodes did happen. This line is such a throw away line that we don't really notice it all that much, but he's addressing what happened between him and Reinette here:

He's saying this, because he's damn sure she's never trusted him less at that moment. He broke her trust by leaving, and it might look a lot like neither of them spoke about what happened, but he knows, and Ten's dumb enough that he doesn't just know when he messed up, he's told.

And so he's keeping hold of her at the beginning, too — body angled towards hers and his arm lazily reaching behind her to physically keep her close to him because he almost lost her.

Ten is incredibly selfish, and it's unbearable at the start of series 2. Nine regnerated into Ten literally for Rose, because he loved her and the last act of the Time War was a sacrifice for love. She came back for him, she absorbed the time vortex for him, so, as much as he finds it hard to believe, he knows somewhere that she loves him. He acts instinctively, he's so in love with her and she's about to die. Ten's born out of this unbearable love Nine held for her in this moment, to the point where Ten literally only exists to love Rose. He's so sure of his love for her, that he takes it for granted. Rose took the time vortex for him, and that's it then. She's in love with him, he's in love with her, so just go for it. But then comes actually... going for it, and he realises he can't. He's going to lose her, and he needs to bring them both back to reality because this is real. It's like when you fancy someone and you know, realistically, you can't have a future with them for whatever reason - different religion, one wants children while the other doesn't. You still go for it, because it gets to a certain point where you have to act on your feelings, but one day you will have to face those conflicts and you will always have to end things. Ten puts a stop to them, and the only way he can put a stop to them for her is by slapping her in the face with reality. Again, Ten's an arsehole. But then he slaps her in the face with reality so hard that he nearly loses her. He doesn't want that, but he can't exactly... declare his love for her after what he did.

"Rose, I know I've made you feel awful for being human and for leaving me behind by dying, and I know I did exactly that to you the very next day, but I love you and I don't want you to leave me behind."

Rose would rightfully bollock him. So he tries his best to rationalise, making this less about him telling her what to do and what he wants, and more about reminding her why she's living in a fairytale world where her dad never died and he's still alive. That is her dream come true, but, just as its impossible that they could have their happily ever after, it's impossible that her dad's still alive.

And you can see Mickey in the background getting pissed off, wincing at how bloody harsh he's being... but, he's right. He could have snapped at Ten for being an arse, telling him to go easy on her, but he doesn't, because somebody had to say it.

On Mickey, he's not convinced in any way that somethings going to happen to Rose to change her mind. He knows she's going to be alright, but the Doctor doesn't. He's panicking massively, and the fact that he's still being aggressive even here, without Rose, just goes to show how furious he is with himself for giving her a reason to leave him.

Imagine him, in the TARDIS and before Mickey arrives, cursing himself for what he did. Rightly so, because he was a dick, and this is almost satisfying to watch. But we don't get to see it explicitly, we only get the idea that, behind closed doors, he knows he fucked up big. He even admits that he's worrying about what's going to happen.

So bloody satisfying.

But then there's the other thing: she never existed in this world. Look at how he drops his facade for just a moment,

He doesn't say "well, of course not — why would you?", or point out that it's even more proof that this world isn't right for her, his hearts break for her. It's as bad as it gets for Rose - knowing that her mum and dad are happy in this world without her. She's not needed, literally anywhere. And that's when he shifts his tone.

He protects Pete, brings him with them because he knows how much he means to Rose,

but most of all, he reminds her that she's something, she's worth so much more than the lies she's telling herself, the lies he made her believe when he left her behind, that she's important and this world's got it wrong by not having her in it.

All these different worlds, not one of them gets it right.

Ten would go above and beyond to not admit his feelings for Rose — well, that's not true, he wouldn't admit his feelings for Rose to Rose — but ROTC/AOS marks a turning point for him. He got cocky, he took her feelings for granted, he took them for granted, and he nearly paid the price. He's not getting that close again, and, contrary to ROTC, he does declare his love for her from then on. He's unafraid to show it from the Idiot's Lantern onwards — he's terrified, because he knows he's going to lose her — but he lets his guard down because she deserves to know. She deserves to feel wanted, to feel important. He doesn't do that by telling her, he does it by showing her. By believing in her to defeat the devil, by fighting tooth and claw to get her back after her face — she — was stolen, by constantly putting his faith in her to save the day and save him, by telling her she's his hand to hold, she's his home, that, by the time he's giving her the option to live with her dad and be safe with her dad, she's empowered enough for make her own decision about what she really does want. And that's him. His anger in this episode is completely directed towards himself. He's harsh with her, but it's in character, because Ten loathes himself so much that he's just filled with fury and rage. Tentoo's exactly the same, filled with blood and anger. He's not afraid to show it, but he also doesn't really know how to show anything else. He's either giddy and flirtatious, or tearing down his enemies — which is often himself. He doesn't deal with emotions at all, so when he feels things that terrifies him, he gets snappy. He gets impatient, things are rapidly falling out of his control and she he does anything to get them back. Ten/Rose coming from GITF to ROTC is similar to Ten/Rose going from AOS to TIL. By the time 2.07 rolls round, they're madly in love. And it's why I think they spent a little bit of time at the Powell Estate mid-series 2, where he finally calms down and realises she's safe with him, and he takes the time to console her. She's lost Pete, she's lost Mickey, and now that he's not going to lose her, he loves her instead. WOW this one got away from me — not sure I even answered your question?? 😂😂 But I hope you enjoyed either way!

[xcrystalzero]

Hello! I’d love to request a romantic matchup, as I’m an absolute sucker for those. Pls take your with this, and drink some water!

So first of, I’m 18 and het female. Appearance wise I’m a tiny (on a good day) 5’1 with, as of rn, pastel purple hair—I change my hair colour frequently. I have quite the defined hourglass shape, which I lowkey hate because finding clothes is a nightmare... the only feature I really like apart from that are my freckles. Besides that, I love fashion, and i spend quite some time on trying out new hairstyles and clothing combinations. So yeah that’s it appearance-wise.

Personality:

To be succinct, I’m an ENTP-T (HI KIN). I’m usually quite determined, stubborn, blunt, rational, and quick witted, but I try to be softer and more careful with my words around the people I love. My main quality is really just my galaxy brain (yay me, intelligence saves me from being a complete arsehole), although I always try my best to help the people around me (which can sometimes become overbearing, I’m sure). I have random periods where I just... succumb to being a crackhead. I’m not the biggest fan of always being serious, so I want to let loose sometimes. Tho one big issue I have, is that social cues and emotions are just really not my area of expertise. I have absolutely no idea how to act in most situations, and while it’s gotten better (i was unbearable to be around when I was younger) I’m vvv awkward and can easily be rude (accidentally... sometimes at least) djdjdjieks. Also, I’m such an annoying smartass, I’m sorry to everyone.

Hobbies and Interests/Dislikes:

For hobbies, I have too many in true ENTP fashion. Although, I mainly focus on dancing, writing, and... is hanging out with friends a hobby??? Idk, but I love spending time with my loved ones. I also quite like baking and I’m a huge simp for Shakespeare—well, his works that is, and for general English literature. I also love gaming, history, and debate. Another important thing for me is topics like feminism, gender equality and all that good stuff. I’m not really an activist (too much stuff on my hands I guess?) but I’m very passionate about these topics—and easily get into arguments about it. Dislikes—well, the usual ones like unnecessary hate and stuff like that, but specifically, I absolutely abhor when someone judges and condemns someone else—who hasn’t done anything against them—without even knowing their story. Also, ignorance is annoying af.

Some other stuff uwu:

For preferred traits in a partner: First of, my love language is Quality Time (we don’t need a big adventure or anything) and Acts of Service. I’m vvv averse to physical touch in a romantic sense and I need my s/o to respect the fact that it’d take me a long long time to get used to him initiating smth. Trauma tingz... I know it unfair tho, as some people just need that, so I try to compromise as much as possible. Communication is super important to me. Keeping your secrets are alright, and if you’re shy or anything that’s also cool, but if I seriously ask you about smth, I’d rather you wouldn’t lie just to spare my feelings. Also, I need someone who isn’t afraid to voice their opinion if it differs my own. I’m quite into debating—over any topic, really. Thus, I might come off as rudely argumentative (which I guess I am), but it’s mostly just a matter of enjoying the mental thrill and wanting someone to consider my perspective/explain their perspective to me. Patience is another trait I really need in someone. I have ADHD, so even if I try my best to listen, I might have to ask if you could repeat whatever you just said. Also the bouts of random forgetting, my occasional impatience... yeah, adhd things. Beyond that, I believe that if you truly love someone, you can grow with them and work around any negativity.

Can’t really think of anything else rn. Thank you for doing this 💜💜💜 take care and drink some water

Hiiii! Omg I'm ENTP/INTP -T too! We chaotic as fuck. Anywayyy, here we go!

I match you with ... Zhongli!

- Ah yes, Geo Daddy himself.

- I think that Zhongli is one of those people who highly value intelligence. He's been around for a while now and seen a lot of things. Obviously, he knows that most people can't begin to approach the amount of knowledge he has accumulated over time. That's why meeting you is a pleasant surprise.

- He's an incredibly patient and supportive person so he'll have no problem entertaining your crazy ENTP ideas or any of the things that come out of crackhead hours.

- He'd like the interest you have in fashion. There's something charming about the way humans like to accessorize and change up their appearance and you do a good job of it.

- It's a good thing you like history because this guy will 100% go on long tangents about the history of the land. If you try to correct him on something, he might try to fight you. The best part is that he doesn't even realize he's doing it, he just doesn't see how he could be wrong about something like that when he's been around to see it all. Have fun with those debates... Thankfully, he doesn't mind your argumentative nature and tends to deal with it pretty calmly which just calms your down too.

- Imagine though, dates where you guys burst into old libraries or bookstores. You had just disagreed on a certain technicality of Liyue's history at sea and you are determined to be right this time. The two of you spend hours scanning over books and asking the various historians always conversing around the restaurants and at the wharf. You guys actually end up kind of attracting a bit of attention, since people find it cute that you're trying to outsmart THE Zhongli. Plot twist...

"See! I told you it was 254 years ago! You were thinking of something else!" You raise the parchment you have been pouring over for the past few minutes triumphantly over your head before presenting it to Zhongli.

The man in question takes the paper, scanning it quickly before looking back to you. "Hm, I suppose you are correct."

"I win!" Your smug little smile is full of pride as you place your hands on your hips. Perhaps to others, losing such an argument would be disagreeable but Zhongli finds it adorable more than anything else.

"Yes you do my love. Yes you do..."

- His love language is quality time too! You guys spend a lot of time just wandering around Liyue Harbor together, literally just chilling or sipping tea on the veranda, enjoying each other's company.

- Basically you have one of those relationships where you can be both very active and very chill together.

Alright there we go! I swapped out my coffee for water just for you :). Hope you enjoyed!

[hazelestelle]

Okay, 32 + Daiken for the prompts because now I kind of need some Daiken?

Thank you! ♥ Are you just trying to get that story out of me? ;) Because that’s gonna take a while.

32. How much of that did you hear?

It was somewhere past midnight and Sora’s birthday party was still in full swing when Daisuke found himself in the kitchen with Mimi.

She had dragged him here under the pretense of needing help with making a new cocktail, and was now saying for about the millionth time since he had confided in her about his crush on Ken: “Come on, it’s getting really obvious! Just tell him already!”

Daisuke sighed. “Mimi, you know I can’t just tell him.”

“Right, because longingly staring at him when he isn’t looking is so much better. Here, hold this.” She pressed a packet of cherry juice into his hands and went rummaging around in the freezer for some ice.

“Are we out of ice?”

“I could go get some”, he immediately offered, seeing an opportunity, but Mimi straightened up and poked her finger into his chest.

“No way! You’re not getting out if this so easily!”

Daisuke caught her hand because her nails were kind of sharp. “God, you’re unbearable when you’re drunk!”

Mimi shrugged. “This isn’t about me! Really, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Are you honestly asking that?” Daisuke shook his head. “He doesn’t feel the same and then our friendship will be ruined.” And really, loosing Ken’s friendship was about the worst thing he could imagine.

At that, Mimi frowned. “Come on, you know he wouldn’t be an arsehole about it.” She finally grabbed the cherry juice back from him and began filling two glasses.

“Of course he wouldn’t. He’s kind and lovely and nice and wonderful…” Daisuke sighed. Maybe he was a little drunk too, or he probably wouldn’t have said all that.

“But then he’ll know, and it will always be awkward.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad. He…” Mimi turned around. “Oh. Hey Ken!”

“What?” Slightly panicked, but hoping Mimi was making a bad joke, he turned around too. But of course, his best friend was really standing in the door, his expression unreadable, and Daisuke’s heart dropped.

“How much of that did you hear?”, he asked uncertainly. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, and he had only just entered the kitchen?

But Ken shrugged. “All of it?”

“Ah fuck.” This was bad. Ken looked a little confused and a lot unhappy, and Daisuke had no idea how to fix this.

“I thought you liked Hikari. But you said he. Is it Takeru?”, Ken asked then, and Mimi actually snorted at that.

“Oh my god. Sorry, but that’s hilarious!” She turned to Daisuke. “Tell. Him.” With that, she grabbed both cocktails she had made and left the kitchen, and Daisuke didn’t know what to do.

He raked his fingers through his hair, messing it up even further.

“No, it’s not Takeru.”

“I see. Taichi then.” Ken sounded as if he was stating an objective truth, and Daisuke could only stare at him for a moment.

“Are you trying to misunderstand this on purpose? It’s you. Of course it’s you!” He probably wouldn’t have said that without the cocktails he’d had, but it was too late now anyway.

Ken didn’t react at all for a moment, just kept looking at him, and Daisuke hated that he could be so closed off. Over the years, he had gotten pretty good at reading him, but in this moment, he couldn’t.

“Please don’t hate me”, he felled compelled to add, and Ken finally moved.

“Hate you?” With two steps, he was in front of him and took his hands, and Daisuke felt immensely reassured, even if he still didn’t know where this was going.

“I could never hate you. But I always thought you liked Hikari, and now you were talking about some guy who’s so nice and wonderful and what not and I…” He looked down, and Daisuke was pretty sure he was blushing. “I was jealous.”

“Jealous?“ The whole idea was laughable. “You have absolutely nothing to be jealous about.”

He gently titled Ken’s chin up, his heart beating out of his chest when he saw the blush and timid smile on his best friend’s face.

“Good. And you absolutely don’t have to worry about me not returning your feelings”, he declared, and Daisuke was sure that he had never felt so happy in his life.

And when they kissed, it tasted of cherries, thanks to Mimi’s cocktails.

[whaticannotshowyou]

I can't get this idea out of my head of Lambert being an arsehole to jaskier the first time he arrives at kaer morgen, saying he's a nothing more than a whore, that he can smell that geralt uses him. Generally being a c*by about jaskier taking cock, because he's the lowest ranking in the pack and it feels good to have someone be the bitch around the keep, only for Aiden to make a surprise visit to the Keep. Aiden walks into Lambert talking to jaskier like that and proceeds to completely humiliate the wolf Infront of everyone, laughing at him exposing him for sleeping with both him and Coen, calling him a bitch for taking a cats cock, happily regaling stories about things he's made Lambert do for his amusement (fucking monsters?animals? Cutting off a monsters cock after its just used Lambert and stuffing it deep in him with the cum and letting him to go collect his coin while plugged up with the beasts cock and seed) All while casually putting his stuff down before making a simple motion for Lambert to present himself like the bitch he is. (I have this head cannon that the witchers have cocks like the animal their school is based on because mutagens come from that animal so aiden has a barbed cock like a cat, Coen as whatever a griffins is, vipers have two cocks and obviously wolves have a knot etc)

And since I recieved this, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head either. In love with the general concept of Lambert being an absolute menace the moment Jaskier tags along to Kaer Morhen. I can’t stte how much I vibe with that, the younger witcher finally having someone to pick on and actually be in the right in doing so. The addition of him getting put into place is just a perfect treat to have afterwards 😍

So Lambert is just unbearable, berating Jaskier for every single thing he can come up with. Being a weak human, unable to help around the keep, obviously just Geralt’s little cocksleeve when money is too tight for a proper whore. At first the bard doesn’t pay him any mind, knowing fully well that he and Geralt are having a great time together, but he gets tired after a while. He doesn’t even fully understand why the witcher is so keen to shaming him?

He gets his answer when Aiden makes his entrance, the rest of the wolves joining him into the room. Geralt is quick to growl at Lambert, tired of him being all over his bard at any given time, but is stopped by the cat as he smiles. Obviously he’s been told some of his behaviour during the short trip from the courtyard to the room they occupy at the moment and probably heard him call the human a shameless witcher slut. Lambert’s face drops at Aiden’s devious grin.

“Finally found someone lower than you to pick on? One would figure a pack bitch would have some sympathy for a new low-rank, right?” Jaskier gives him a confused look, then shifts his gaze back to Lmbert. Oh, he is... very much uncomfortable. The cat doesn’t stop though, instead steps forward after dropping his bags to the floor. The tounger wolf immediately bares his neck, eyes flickering to his family as he does so but never letting up.

Jaskier watches as the entire pack stares Lambert down as Aiden recounts all sorts of stories from their travels together, calling him a hypocrite for picking on Jaskier when he himself can’t even be sated with just one cock inside of him. He says names of witchers Jaskier has only heard in passing, or not at all, as the rest of them get visibly suprised by the confessions. Geralt mouths a “no way” as Aiden starts going into Lambert’s time amongst monsters, the car snickering at Lambert’s silent pleas for him to be quiet.

“Oh, don’t want your pack to know you fuck beasts? What about taking werewolf knots? Or letting that stray mutt of a dog we found in the woods use you?” The wolf is shaking with humiliation but he makes no move to stop the other, just slowly crumbling in on himself for each word that leaves the man. Aiden lists more encounters, horrendous monsters that the witcher had been fucked by, used and plugged up with as he was leaking it’s come all over a nobleman’s floor while collecting his bounty.

Eventually Aiden is done with his bags, most of his armour neatly folded on top of his backpack as he stands to his full height with a smirk, Jaskier noting the battlescarred skin under his dark shirt and how well he fits in his trousers. Lambert seems to do so as well, for he drops to his knees without breaking eye contact with the man.

“Good pup,” Aidens says and takes another step forward. “Now present yourself so the rest of our campany can see just what a bitch you are for a cat’s cock.”

And he does. The witcher strips in a haste before bending over, his face hidden in his arms as he presents his arse, thighs quivering with humiliation as he knows his pack is watching. Still, he doesn’t move, just stays like that as Aiden gets closer. He turns to Jaskier with a toothy grin, asking if the bitch should prepare himself and show them all what a loose hole he has? Jaskier makes no sound, not wanting to further aggravate the younger witcher in case he would want a payback later. Aidens doesn’t need his answer though, just kneels down next to the man and orders him to “get on with it.”

He can sink two of his thick fingers into himself without any issue, groaning the tiniest bit as the third enters dry and he slowly scissors them. Jaskier sees Eskel’s nostrils flare, no doubt taking in the heavy scent of lust permeating the entire room at that stage. Aiden spits in his hand before taking his cock into his hand, lazily stroking it. It’s long and pointy, small spikes raking up the base. Jaskier had just grown accustomed to the knot on Geralt, head soinning eith the possibility of even more exotic cocks to try. But he doesn’t have long to ponder it, instead transfixed by the scene unfolding before him.

The cat moves so he is kneeling behing Lambert, hands moving up and down his sides and spine as he humps his cock against his hole. The wolf melts into the touch, going slack as if he’s forgotten the group watching him. Instead he thrusts back against the cock, a whine barely audible as it catches on his rim but doesn’t sink in. With a chuckle, Aiden uses one hand to steady himself, pushing in halfway before stopping to check on the man. Jaskier wished he had a witcher’s hearing, unable to make out what they were whispering, but from the sight of it Aiden was making sure he was doing all right, that he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. Lambert nodded before pushing back against him, moaning as the penile spines dragged along his insides and caught on his rim.

With the confirmation, Aiden wastes no time being gentle. He fucks into the man like their lives depend on it, Lambert’s voice picking up until he‘s practically screaming with each thrust. The cat laughs cruelly as the other spills himself from the fucking alone, calling him a good cockslut for coming hands free. When Aiden finally slows down and come inside of him with a pleased groan, Lambert is boneless against the floor.

He dismounts the wolf with a smile and tells him to clean himself up, unless of course any of their onlookers would like a round.

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz 23- Golden Days

Otp Prompt #23: There’s a fair in town, and all of Watford attends. Everything in Simon and Baz’s lives has gone to hell… they deserve one night of forgetting everything. What will happen on their last day of freedom under the neon lights of the carnival? (Before the defeat the Humdrum, after everything else except Baz and Simon aren’t together yet.)

*Baz’s POV*

My father is an arsehole. After everything that’s happened this year, of bloody course I felt it horrifically unnecessary to go to a carnival. Crowley, we should still be focused on the war with the old families and the Humdrum, for fucks’ sake! When I told my father my plans of sitting it out, he for some reason felt the need to fight me on the subject.

“Basilton, you’ll regret it if you don’t go, you know.” He had said to me, looking bored. (Although I knew that he wasn’t bored- he was fully alert and intent on giving me hell.)

“Father, in what world would I regret not going to a silly party for children where all they serve is…” I visibly shiver as I lace  disgust into my tone. “Fried.” He rolled his eyes then, as he does so often. 

“These are the good days, my son. You should make memories- you’ll regret it later if you don’t go tonight.” Well that was the biggest bloody load of shit I had ever heard. The good days? Yes, yes, the good days in which I spent pining over my enemy that was destined to kill me, loathing myself to a point of insanity, and trying to find my mothers’ killer. What wonderful memories. 

I tried to keep my composure as I said, “But, father, I really see it more fit to-”

“Basil. Enough. This is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. You are to go to the carnival and that’s that.” We didn’t discuss it further. I knew I could have simply skipped, but no doubt that he’d find out somehow. I promptly huffed (with dignity- I’m not a troll) up to my room and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, playing mournful songs on my violin.

I’ll be damned if I, Basilton Grimm-Pitch spend the whole carnival moping because father dearest told me I had to go. I was just going to sit on a wall smoking with Dev and Niall, but apparently their parents couldn’t make sense of why they should go, either. They’re currently at their respective homes, preparing for the inevitable war. 

The carnival is already loud and large, and it’s not even noon yet. Most of Watford attends, which explains the mysterious floating popcorn all around. There are people everywhere, their pulses beating unbearably loud. (I had to drain two deer before this, just to make sure I wasn’t tempted by all of the flowing blood around.) Looking around, I see people I know, but I’ve never talked to. (Mostly because they’re inferior.) I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to make ‘memories’ with people who would like to see me dead, and I most certainly don’t want to be here watching Snow and Wellbelove cozy it up on the Ferris Wheel. 

Startling me from my thoughts, I feel a finger tap me on my shoulder. I whip around, expecting to see Dev or Niall after all, but instead, I’m face to face with Simon Snow himself. (Well, not face to face so much. More like his face to my jaw.) Speak of the devil. He looks beautiful, as always. His bronze curls are a halo of gold around his face and his (extra)ordinary blue eyes. He looks nervous, but determined. 

“What do you want, Snow?” I sneer. 

*Simon’s POV*

I wish he wouldn’t sneer at me so much. I came over to him because honestly, he was the only familiar face I could find. Not much time to socialize with anyone but your bloody roommate, (ex) girlfriend and best friend when you’re the chosen one. 

I roll my eyes, but speak nonetheless. “Well, er… where are Dev and Niall?”

“Currently unavailable,” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Why, Snow?” To be quite honest, I don’t really know why I’m doing this myself. Maybe because there’s no one else I know here. Maybe because I know this is the last time I’ll see Baz until one of us kills the other. Maybe because he just looked so alone standing there in front of the carnival.

“Well, because, um… Well, I-”

“Spit it out, Chosen.”

“Penny and Agatha couldn’t come tonight and I don’t know anyone else. And I just… well, I just need a night away from everything.” I look at him with what I hope are pleading eyes. He scoffs and begins to walk away, but I reach out for his arm. He stops, looking back at me, and quirks an eyebrow. “Listen… Baz, please. This is our last day of freedom. It’s the end of the year, the end of Watford, and right now, I just want to forget everything. Just for one night. Do it with me, Baz.” He looks mildly disgusted, but I can tell that he’s thinking about it. 

“Everything?” He nearly whispers. I know he means everything that’s happened with us in the past. The fighting, the threats. I nod my head, sure of myself. “Okay. Deal.” I let his arm go and we walk side by side into the carnival (we’ve never walked side by side; it’s weird) that has a large neon sign at the top of the gates. ‘Golden Days’. Must be the name of the carnival. I look at Baz with uncertainty, but he just smiles at me. Merlin, is that what Baz’s smile looks like? Crowley, I could get used to that. 

I grab his hand and start running into the crowd, dragging him behind me. I hear what I think is Baz laughing behind me and it gives me a jolt of ecstasy. His laugh is so carefree… like he’s got nothing but everything to live for. I love it. I keep dragging him behind me until we get to the line for a rollercoaster. I let his hand go and I see that he turns pale. (Well, paler than usual, that is. He must’ve eaten before this because he has a bit more colour than he usually does.) 

“What’s wrong?” I frown. He gulps and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“Nothing, Snow, I just…” He’s trying to maintain his composure, but he’s failing. It’s bloody odd seeing his nervous. Baz is a lot of things, but nervous is not one of them. “I’m not a fan of rollercoasters.” Oh. 

“We can ride another ride if you-”

“No. No, it’s fine, Snow. I can do it,”

“Why are you afraid?” He glares at me but doesn’t correct my word choice. 

“When I was younger I went on one with my aunt Fiona. I… well my stomach didn’t react well.”

“Vampires can get sick?” I mentally slap myself, but instead of glaring at me, he just nods absentmindedly as he stares at the rollercoaster. He must really be scared if he’s admitting to being a vampire. Although I suppose it doesn’t quite matter now that we’re not in Watford anymore. I grab his hand and give it a squeeze, not letting it go this time. His hand is cold and calloused but it’s a nice break from Agatha’s warm and smooth hands. I think I see his breath catch, but I ignore it. 

We don’t talk again until we’re seated in the ride, climbing up to the top before the drop. Baz’s breath is fast and his leg is shaking, so I hold his hand even tighter. “It’s gonna be okay Baz,” I laugh. He rolls his eyes, but I see the smile playing on his lips. As we drop, I look over to see Baz screaming, but laughing all the same. His hair is flying all around his face and he looks absolutely perfect as always. The bloody wanker never looks bad even as he’s terrified on a rollercoaster. As we lurch on the turns, he looks over to me, his face alight with joy. (It occurs to me now that I don’t think I’ve ever really seen Baz happy. It’s… well it’s bloody lovely.) I smile back and we keep holding hands all throughout the ride. 

*Baz’s POV*

Snow seems to be keen on torturing me. On all of the rides so far, he’s held my hand bone-breakingly hard. (Although it doesn’t hurt because I can’t really feel the pain. All I feel is his warmth in my cold hand.) He only lets go once we’re off the rides, and even then it seems reluctantly. After all these years of fighting, being friends with him seems so natural. I try not to think too hard about how it will all go back to normal by morning. Aleister Crowley, I wish we could stay this way forever. 

The sun is setting now, but the carnival goes on until sunrise. Well, I suppose that’s not totally true. The Normals leave around 11 and then the Watford students spell the gates unlocked after, staying in until daybreak. Only four more hours until the Normals leave.

Simon turns to me, smiling a lopsided and bashful smile. “I’m kind of hungry…” He mutters, a grin on his face the whole time. I roll my eyes good naturedly. (Who would’ve thought that was possible?) 

“You’re always hungry, you git,” I sigh and prompt him to walk forward. “Go on then, Snow. Let’s get you some atrociously fried food.” Somehow, his face lights up even more as he grabs my hand again (I feel sparks every time we touch) and drags me to the nearest food stand. (Can you even call it food?) Simon orders one big ‘funnel cake’ and a corn dog. Both fried. Both bound to make him sick on the rides. When we get the food, he drags me along to an open bench to sit down. He places the corn dog in front of me and the cake in front of him. I simply shake my head and push the dog to sit in front of him. (What I would give for a real dog right now. I’m not very hungry for blood, but I wouldn’t pass it up.)

He furrows his brow and pushes the food back to me, along with some ketchup. “Eat.” He says it simply, like it’s a command. I roll my eyes, but (reluctantly) dip the corn dog in ketchup and then take a bite. It’s… well it’s not the bloody worst thing I’ve ever had. Crowley, it might actually be good. I suppose I’ve never had anything fried. It’s frowned upon at the Pitch manor. But this isn’t half bad. I cover my mouth as I take another, bigger bite. When I look up from my plate, Simon is smirking to himself while absolutely shoveling food into his mouth. 

I must look disgusted because he looks up at me and asks (with his mouth full), “What?” I laugh and roll my eyes again. It’s like watching a dog eat. A dog that I’d like to slip the tongue. 

“You’re disgusting,” I shake my head and look away from his face before I do something stupid. Like spit on him and then lick it all off and kiss him. Yes, that would most certainly not be smart. I cover my mouth with my hand again as I take another bite, trying to chew around my fangs. But before I can even swallow, Simon gently (I never thought Simon could ever do anything gentle to me) pulls my hand away from my mouth and holds it there. There aren’t butterflies in my stomach. Vampires don’t get butterflies. We’re immortal and dangerous and badarse. I have bats in my stomach.

“Baz, you know you don’t have to do that here. No one else is paying attention,” Does that mean that he’s paying attention? “It’s just me. Eat how you want.” He shrugs, pulling his hand away from mine after a moment, blushing furiously. He is so bloody adorable when he blushes. Damn it all to hell.

I don’t cover my mouth again as I keep eating and he smiles at me. I can feel his magic wrap all around me as we eat together in silence. Not in a threatening, burning way like usual… it’s warm. Safe. 

“What ever is the bloody appeal to that fried… mess that you’re eating, Snow?” I break the silence. He looks up at me, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “What?” I inquire.

“You’ve never had a funnel cake?” I shake my head.

“Um, no. I don’t fancy getting vampire diabetes anytime soon.” He lets out a laugh (I realize too late that I’ve just admitted to being a vampire… but he doesn’t seem to care) and pushes his plate to me, gesturing at the powdered mess. 

“Try it! It’s delicious, Baz. Just one bite,”

“I, um… I think not,” He rolls his eyes and gets a small bite of the monstrosity on his fork. 

“Open.” He commands.

“Er, Snow-”

“Open!” He commands with a laugh. I sigh, because I know that he won’t relent anytime soon. I open my mouth ever so slightly. I know he sees my fangs because his eyes go a bit wider and he mutters, “Wicked…” I try to ignore the urge to snap my mouth shut as he puts the food in my mouth. It tastes like… well it tastes like right diabetes, doesn’t it? But powdered sugar covered, fried to perfection diabetes. 

“Crowley, Snow! This is delicious!” I snatch the plate from him and start eating at a Simon-Snow-pace, manners well from my mind now. He frowns, so I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Well, Baz, since we’ve decided to put everything behind us… I ‘spose you shouldn’t call me by my last name anymore, yeah?” He fidgets with his fingers as he says it. Calling him Simon seems so… personal. Too personal for enemies-turned-one-night-friends. But I suppose I could have a bit of fun with this. Before I can say anything, he blurts out, “And not Chosen, either.”

“Right. Well then… where to next, love?” He takes in a breath and turns bright red, tripping over every other word. For a moment, I think I’ve done the wrong thing, but once he gets a hold on himself, he just smiles at me and nods. 

“Okay, Baz. Very funny. ‘Least it’s better than Snow or Chosen.” I can’t believe he’s letting me call him love. 

*Simon’s POV*

I can’t believe that I’m letting him call me love. I can’t believe that I liked it when he called me love. I don’t know why I want him to do it again. I get up from my seat and throw our trash away, trying to calm myself down away from Baz’s watchful eye. When I get back to our table, he’s standing up and waiting for me while adjusting his jacket. 

“Come on then, Sn-” He stops himself before he can finish, turning a little pink. “Love. I’ve got the next place to go to.” I smile and grab his hand, letting him lead me to our next adventure. In some ways, I’m happy that Penny and Agatha couldn’t make it. I’m glad that I get to spend time with Baz alone. (When did I start wanting alone time with my enemy?) 

When we finally stop, he takes his hand back. (For reasons I’m not willing to think about right now) I feel my heart fall when he does. We’re in the line for the Ferris Wheel. It’s nearly time for the Normals to start heading out; they’re walking out of the carnival and the Magicians have started spelling the workers to keep the place up and running after the Normals leave. When we get up to the front of the line, the man working the ride let us on in the two seater. The Ferris Wheel is so tall that the seats should probably be enclosed, but it’s a carnival, so no one is surprised. 

Baz and I squeeze in next to each other, and not one single part of our bodies other than our heads aren’t touching. From our toes to our shoulders, I can feel an electric current running through my veins. My heart is beating wildly. I don’t exactly know why- it’s just Baz. My enemy/friend for one night. Although, I’m trying not to think too hard about the one night part. In fact, I’m trying not to think about anything right now, really. Just how safe I feel at the moment, and how lovely Baz has been tonight. It almost hurts, knowing that this is how we could’ve spent all those years. As friends instead of mortal enemies. Then again, that wasn’t really our choice in the first place. 

But it is tonight. As we slowly climb higher and higher, the carnival gets much quieter. Much calmer than when the Normals were here. The air is filled with magic. I can feel Baz’s magic wrapping around me, and the night sky is thick with everyone else’s. Everything is flying every which way and sparks from wands are everywhere. But what might be most beautiful is the neon lights all around us. Once it got dark, everything started lighting up, but not so bright that we can’t see the stars at the top of the Ferris Wheel. It’s beautiful. I can’t help but lean into Baz, resting my head on his shoulder. 

Maybe it’s just me, but I think I can hear his heart beating. It’s not long before I feel his head resting on top of mine. His hair tickles my ears, but I can’t find it in myself to mind. I don’t mind anything right now. Crowley, I think that the Humdrum himself could pop up right now and I wouldn’t give a bloody rats’ arse. 

I slowly bring my head up, and when I look over at Baz, he’s blushing. “Sorry, Snow- er, Simon. I mean, um…” He sounds like me, tripping over his words. Ignoring the way that my heart leapt into my throat when he called me Simon, I stop him. 

“Baz, no. I just… well I was wondering why we were never friends like this before.” I feel my face burn, but I just need to know the answer. I need to know why we weren’t ever like this when Merlin it’s been so wonderful tonight.

He looks at me with his stormy eyes as he says, “You know why. My family, they… well, you know, Simon.” There he goes calling me Simon again. He looks away, but I catch his face with my fingers. We’re stopped at the top now; we can see everything from up here. But all I find myself wanting to look at is Baz. 

“Screw your family.” He looks taken aback, and I must admit, I’ve surprised myself, too. I don’t know where this courage came from. I’m not drunk. (Well, maybe a bit. Maybe drunk on Baz.)

“Simon, I-”

“Stop calling me Simon.” I state simply. Stop calling me Simon or I’m going to do something stupid. 

He pauses for a moment, looking into my eyes like he wants to memorize every ordinary colour there. 

“Simon.” He whispers.

*Baz’s POV*

I don’t know why I called him Simon again. Maybe because he’s looking at me hungrily, and Crowley, I want to know what he’ll do. Maybe because if it makes him mad… I’ll get to kiss him before he sends me flying. Maybe, if he screams at me for calling him by his name, I’ll finally get what I want. 

Then he kisses me. I don’t waste any time floundering or pulling away. Instead I automatically pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Merlin, Methulusah and Morgana nothing has ever felt this nice. He’s doing this thing with his jaw, and his hands are roaming under my shirt and in my hair and I can barely even think, and-

Someone clears their throat loudly. “The ride is over, gentlemen.” Simon and I spring away from each other and look at the ride operator. I just got into trouble for snogging Simon Snow on the Ferris Wheel. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. I feel Simon shaking with laughter as he clambers (really clambers- he’s as graceful as a hippo) out of the seat and extends his hand out to help me up. 

“Coming, love?” I smile at him so hard that my cheeks hurt. (Probably because I’m not used to smiling.) I nod and grab his hand, letting him help me out. Instead of pulling his hand away this time, he laces his fingers through mine and takes off running with me as we shoot down the nearly barren walkways. Magicians all around look at us with curiosity, but I can’t find it in me to care. As we run, my jacket billows behind me and Simon keeps tripping… but it’s perfect.

It’s like a slow motion scene from those movies. The one where the couple is running away from their troubles together, like nothing else matters. They’re smiling and laughing, and the one in front turns back to look at the one behind them, all of the love in the world in their eyes. It’s like that, but so much bloody better because it’s gay. And anything with Simon Snow in it is infinitely better in my book. 

We finally get to a man with a large old-timey polaroid camera stood up and Simon places two pounds in his hand. He drags me up in front of the camera and pulls me down to his level and smashes his face against mine, as though we were in a photo booth. The camera snaps. For the next one, he presses his lips warmly against my cheek and waits for the camera to snap again. Then, he (without my knowledge or permission) (although he could kill me now, and he’d have my permission) jumps up into my arms and nuzzles his face into my neck, closing his eyes. I’m supposed to be looking at the camera, but I can only keep my eyes on him. Finally, for the last picture, he hops down from my arms. As he goes to do a pose beside me, he (somehow) trips over himself and ends up grabbing onto my jacket collar, pulling me towards him. We land in a breathtaking kiss, him still pulling me ever closer, and me too stunned to do anything but let him. 

When the camera snaps, he springs away and  goes to retrieve the photos from the man. Simon has more energy than a labrador right now. I’d like to think it was from kissing me, but it might just be from the overall craziness of the night. For a moment, he slows, taking my hand and pulling me close so that I can see the photos, too. They all turned out lovely, even if he did nearly knock me over in the process multiple times. He looks up at me now, and he walks backwards, taking me with him. (He tucks the photos away in my jacket pocket.) 

When we get behind a tent, he pulls me to him again, snogging me like there’s no time left. There is no way that things will ever go back to the way they were after this. 

*Simon’s POV*

We’ve been having a proper snog now for at least twenty minutes. My heart is… well it feels like it’s been lit on fire, doesn’t it? (In a wonderful way, that is.) His mouth is soft and cold and I can’t help it when I lean back and tell him something that I’m not even sure I knew myself. “I love you, Baz.” His face glows and he looks at me as though he’s always been hungry for my touch. (And my touch only.)

“Crowley, you dolt. I’ve loved you since fifth bloody year.” He laughs before pulling me back in to get lost in him again. 

…

We spend the rest of the night on a hill near the back of the carnival either snogging or talking. He’s laying down right next to me, and I’m practically on top of him. We should’ve been like this all these years. It only took us until graduation to figure it out.

“Hey Baz?” He traces the moles on my face while I run my hand on his stomach. (In just a short time, I’ve learned that it’s one of his favorite places to be touched.)

“Yes, Simon?” I smile when he calls me by my name again. So much better than Snow or Chosen. (Although ‘love’ might be a close second.)

“Thank you,”

“For what?”

“For… for giving me a night away from everything. For escape,” He frowns. 

“What?” I ask as I place a kiss to his jaw. 

“Is that all this is? Are we… will this be over by tomorrow?” I can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Not by a long shot, my love… not by a long shot.” 

*Baz’s POV*

I understand now why my father wanted me to come to the carnival. This will undoubtedly be my favorite memory in years to come. I also understand the name of the carnival now. ‘Golden Days’.

The definition of Golden Days is “a period of great happiness, prosperity, and achievement.’ These are the golden days, the bad and all. Simon Snow is my golden day. 

Fourty Years Later

“Simon, love!” I call down to him from the attic. In a few minutes, he comes climbing up the stairs as fast as he can. He may not have his magic anymore, but he’s still fit for an old man. I suppose we’re both old men, now. He’s just an old man with a tail and wings. 

“Yes, Baz?” I stand up (not as agile as I used to be) and walk over to him, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his face. 

“Look at what I found, dear…” I give him the pile of polaroids that I found in a crate. “From the carnival so many years ago.” He smiles wistfully at the pictures. We were both young, then- no wrinkles or worry lines. (Although he is still dashing in his old age.) In the polaroids, we were at a carnival called ‘Golden Days’, I believe.

“Yes, I remember…” He mutters more to himself than me. I know he doesn’t remember. Dementia does that to a person. But that’s okay. As the years went on and the colours of wanderlust started fading… so did Simon. But there are some things that have remained. The memories will never change, for one. We’ve stayed absolutely drunk on each other, throughout our lives. I’ve stayed pale, and Simon has stayed bloody handsome. The love has remained the same. And even though Simon doesn’t remember half of our memories… I’ll keep them alive. I’ll keep him alive. The him that was so alive and so full of wonder. 

I will never forget the golden days that changed my life forever.

[the-quiet-winds]

Don’t Look Back at this Crumbling Fool (part three)

breaking hearts left and right... i’m having fun, what about you, @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts? fun?

[part one] - [part two]

trigger warning for hateful words and self-deprecation

[Part 3: I’m Sure My Eyes they Speak for Me]

cleves is next to add to the witch-hunt.

“that rotten son of a bitch,” she growls at the words on the screen. “how dare he?!” she adds a few more colorful words in there as well, promising to do some less-than-appealing things if she ever finds him.

“i don’t know what you lot are expecting to be able to do,” says boleyn from the couch. “it’s not like you can track him down or anything.”

katherine suddenly freezes, a metaphorical light bulb appearing above her head. “or can we?” she rushes out of the room, then back in clutching her laptop. “i’m about to go catfishing,” she declares proudly, and the room stares silently back.

“you’re... what?” aragon asks, baffled. katherine rolls her eyes; she forgets there’s parts of modern society that the other queens haven’t quite caught up with yet. recognition dawns in boleyn’s eyes, though, and she quickly explains the concept of catfishing to cleves and aragon. “not sure how that’s gonna help you find out his identity, though,” she adds.

“i’m going to get him to fall in love with this fake profile, get him to send his name and phone number, then look up his number and find his address, then-” katherine’s intricate plan is interrupted by parr letting out a single cough. she leans against the doorway, a mug of tea in her hands, and one eyebrow raised.

“you really think that’s a good idea?” she asks.

katherine turns to her earnestly. “you have a better idea?”

parr takes a sip of her tea. “we do nothing.”

cleves and kat both look at her incredulously. “did you read the comment?!” cleves asks.

“yes,” parr says simply. “and it’s just the way it is. “there will always be rude people in the world, wanting to hurt others for their own sick enjoyment.” she takes another long, slow sip. “and that’s just how it is. what’s more important is finding /jane/ and making sure that she knows that absolutely nothing that rat-bastard said was true.”

the other queens fall silent, somewhat shame-faced. a few seconds pass before katherine sighs, closing her laptop. “you’re right,” she mumbles, looking down. “but- but we don’t know where she is.”

“then we’ll look for her,” parr says firmly, stepping into the room properly. “she was on foot, so there’s only so far she could have gone. we’ll split up, ask around at hotels and shops and cafes, see if anyone’s seen her. we’ll find her, ladies. and once we do, we’ll bring her home and make sure she knows how wonderful she is.”

aragon, boleyn, and cleves took the car downtown, while parr and katherine headed uptown. the two women asked every cafe and hotel they passed about jane, but no one seemed to know who they were talking about.

finally, they were at the last hotel before they gave up, when the concierge tells them that there was a “jane seymour” on the fifth floor, and katherine almost collapses on the spot.

the concierge tells them that she just has to phone ahead to the room to let jane know; “company policy,” she explains. the wait while she phones the room and has a short conversation is almost unbearable to katherine and her nails tap impatiently on the counter without her realising, shooting glances at the door to the elevator as if jane might try and sneak out. parr notices and places a hand over katherine’s to stop her tapping. finally the concierge puts down the phone and smiles at them. “she says to send you up. room 532.”

katherine dashes off to the elevators immediately, parr lingering long enough to give the concierge a polite thanks before following her.

jane heard the phone call but didn’t really comprehend it. it’s only after she hangs up that she realizes what’s about to happen. she musters enough strength to get up and unlock the door, then retreats back to her sanctuary of blankets and pillows.

katherine bounces nervously the entire ride up to the floor. parr takes it upon herself to call the other queens and tell them that they found jane, because kat is so preoccupied with trying to figure out what she’s going to say. as soon as the elevator door opens, she races to 532 and knocks quietly. “mum?” she calls.

an eternity passes before she hears a quiet, “it’s open.”

the lights are off and the curtains are closed, the room dimly lit by the sun shining through the small gaps at the edge of the curtains. jane is barely visible in the bed, covered by the blankets. katherine can’t contain herself and jumps onto the bed with a half-squeak of “mum!”

she pauses just before the moment she would have pulled her mother into a hug, blinking at jane with relieved eyes. she wants to continue with the hug so badly but the glum, miserable expression on jane’s face stops her and she worries her bottom lip with her teeth.

“how’re you doing?” she asks softly, kneeling on the bed next to jane. she’s vaguely aware of parr stepping further into the room behind her but her eyes are fixed on her mum.

jane barely shrugs. ‘take a wild guess,’ she snarks in her head, but she won’t say that out loud. not to katherine. not now.

“the others are on their way,” parr says hesitantly, seeing jane’s listless stare. “they’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

jane doesn’t even react in the slightest. she just feels so numb.

katherine shifts slightly, and glances back at parr who gives her an encouraging smile. in her mind, jane’s brain accepts yet another of her losses at this exchange. who knows, maybe even katherine would be fine without her. maybe parr could look after her, and she’d forget all about jane. maybe they’d be better off if that was the case.

unconsciously, she curls up tighter into herself at the thought. what good was she to katherine anyway? a memory, a boozy, hazy memory, flashes in front of her eyes at that exact question. she remembers tears and feelings of inadequacy that are mirroring her current emotions nearly perfectly.

“why’d you all come?” she murmurs, lips half in the pillow, barely intelligible.

“we wanted to find you,” katherine answers immediately. “i was worried about you,” she adds, slightly quieter. “you left without saying anything and i was worried.” katherine looks down at her hands resting in her lap. “i saw that comment,” she admits. “the one on your song on youtube. and mum, none of it is true.”

at the mention of the comment, jane stiffens. the words float maliciously in her head, bringing her to the brink of tears again. “isn’t it?” she asks. “i have the weakest story to tell.” she hesitates as she takes a shuddering breath, her voice lowering to a coarse whisper. “the band would be better off without me, the sentimental wife with no spine.”

“no it wouldn’t!” katherine bursts out, voice so full of conviction it even surprises herself. “you’re not weak, or anything like that. you’re the one who keeps strong through the whole show, and who makes sure i’m okay, and who reassures me without even needing to ask if i’m scared. and when you sing, it’s just... the most beautiful sound in the world.”

jane smiles faintly at the praise, but her eyes are still glazed and far off. she hums a quiet, noncommittal response, and parr can already tell that this is going to be a long process. she knows something else happened the previous night as well as katherine did, but she doesn't remember anything out of the ordinary-

she freezes as somewhere in her mind's eye she finds a crystal clear vision of a guy joking off with his date by giving a dramatic yawn during jane's song. she doesn't remember seeing it, probably as the next few minutes were so tension-filled, but now she can see it clear as day.

new information in mind, she grabs katherine's shoulders and pulls her out into the hallway.

“what is it?” katherine asks her at the sudden diversion, frowning in confusion. as parr explains to her what happened the previous evening katherine’s face grows almost thunderous with rage, her delicate features twisted into a scowl. “that bastard!” she practically spits. “no wonder mum left!” she lets out a noise of frustration. “if i ever saw him again I’d-” parr gives her a pointed look and she stops. “right. not the point. what’s important is mum.”

the stairwell door opens, and out flies aragon, boleyn, and cleves, all similarly out of breath. "elevator...out of...service..." pants boleyn, hands on her knees. katherine and parr stare at them questioningly.

"right..." says parr. "we have a situation."

she quickly explains the rest of the story to the queens, and they all look at each other for answers.

“i just don’t get it,” katherine sighs. “so many people love mum’s song and her voice and her story! why aren’t they the ones leaving comments instead of rude people? why did that guy have to be an arsehole in the middle of the performance?” she shoves her hands in her pockets defeatedly. “i don’t know how to make mum realise how amazing she is.”

“there has to be a way though, right?” boleyn asks, still slightly winded from the journey up five flights of stairs. “like, she’s bloody brilliant.”

parr lights up suddenly, katherine's and boleyn's words swirling together into a completely brilliant plan. "boleyn, howard, get her out of bed. cleves, aragon, lets go."

"where are you going?" katherine demands as parr pulls her party towards the stairwell. she stops and steps back towards katherine, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"you'll see tonight." she points back towards jane's room as she takes backwards steps to the stairwell. "just get her to the show!" parr, aragon, and cleves race off into the stairs, leaving katherine and boleyn standing dumbfounded in the hallway.

boleyn turns to katherine and shrugs. “i guess we should do what she says. lets go, Team Holeyn.” despite the situation katherine snorts with laughter.

“please never call us that again.”

“understood,” boleyn nods, unfazed. “lets go.”

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tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @janeriarichardnoel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff (some of these didn’t work for some reason)

[xlynchiex]

Aftermath - Book of Mormon

bom angst oneshot set after kevin goes to the general. i want to continue this, but who knows. 

pure angst. no comfort. deals with heavy themes and swearing

CW: implied/referenced rape

His face connected hard with the warm ground, gravel and dust filling his nose and scratching his face. He heard laughter and doors slamming, before the sound of a car driving away in the opposite way it came. He still hadn't opened his eyes, but he knew it was night time from the smell in the air and buzzing of crickets. He lay there rumpled like a ragdoll, completely limp by the side of a road that he knew people hardly ever drove down. Every inch of him ached, his clothes wet with cold sweat. After what felt like hours, he lifted his head and pushing up into his elbows with a small groan. Instantly, sharp pain shot up through his body, causing him to whimper and tears threatened to fall down his already tear streaked face. His throat ached from the sound, fried from overuse and dehydration. He tried to push himself up again, crying out in pain. He felt dirty, abandoned, too full.

He heard the distant rumblings of a vehicle approaching, and he lifted his head to watch Kimbe's ute come closer, attempting to regulate his breathing. The one working headlight caused him to blanche, temporarily blinding him after who knows how long in total darkness. It stopped near him, sputtering.

"Elder Price!" yelped Kimbe, instantly opening the door and dropping beside him. "Oh thank God I found you boy. Are you alright?"

He wanted to say yes, he's fine, so he can get in her car without any more fuss. Now that someone is here, he suddenly doesn't want anyone to see him like this, tossed by the side of the road, more dirty and used than he's been his whole life. Instead, what comes out is a dry, choked sob.

"Oh Elder Price." she whimpers. She reaches out to touch his shaking shoulders, but a burst of adrenaline suddenly overcomes him and he pulls away from her.

"Don't touch me!"

She looked at him in a strange way that he's never seen directed at him before. Not at him, Kevin Price, Mormon poster boy. That was a face he'd only seen on the news, or current affairs programs, when they covered the sad stories that he generally didn't like to hear. He loathed that look on Kimbe's face.

"We need to get back to Kitguli." she started slowly, standing up and opening the ute door. "We need to leave now."

"I... I can't stand up." his voice was so quiet, so weak, so unlike him.

She had that look on her face again, and he absolutely hated it. She knelt down in front of him, close to his face.

"I'm going to help you up, okay?" She spoke slowly and gently. He nodded, the movement only making his head ache even more.

She put her sturdy hands under his arms, and braced her legs. "Hold onto me." He gripped her thick, strong upper arms, and the difference between them caused him to stare. Her skin was very dark, so there'd always been a stark contrast, but now it was even more pronounced. His skin was sickly pale, his knuckles white as his hands shook. "We're gonna stand up now, 'kay?" He nodded again, sending another wave of nausea through his body. She began to move up, lifting him with her. It hurt so much to move.

She stopped for him to get his feet under him, and as soon as he moved his leg he was yelping with pain, his arms shaking. He felt stabbing pains behind his stomach, like he was being torn from the inside. God, he was so weak.

"You can do it Elder." whispered Kimbe in his ear. "Keep going."

He wanted to yell at her that he couldn't, that this was unbearable, but instead he jerked his leg under him so his foot was standing on the ground. And he did it again, so they were both squatting there, arms outstretched, Kimbe being the only thing stopping him from toppling over.

"We're gonna stand up now."

It was slow, and agonsing, straightening their legs. He was far too weak to hold his weight going up, he was leaning entirely on Kimbe's strong arms. It felt like hours until they were both standing, him slouching over her at least a head taller. His usually immaculate hair was hanging in front of his face, only another reminder of how utterly unpresentable he was.

Still holding him up, she moved beside him so her arm supported his back from behind. They walked to the left side of her ute, and he was mortified to find he couldn't help but walk with a limp. He sat down on the passenger seat with a yelp, another jolt of fiery hot pain shooting through his body. He didn't even look to see if there were seatbelts installed this time, he braced his hands on the dashboard as he perched on the edge of the seat. He stayed that way, even when Kimbe started the car and started driving in the direction of the village. Every rock and bump made him flinch and screw up his eyes in pain.

After a long time, Kimbe spoke. "What the fuck were you doing there Elder Price?"

Well, if that didn't sum up his exact thoughts. What the fuck was he doing there? What did he think he would have achieved? Hearing himself swear in his head didn't feel as scandalous as it should have.

"I was stupid." his shoulders shook as he began to cry, again. Surely there'd be no more tears left by now, he'd cried for hours and was severely dehydrated. There shouldn't be a drop of liquid left in his body. "God, I was so fucking stupid!"

He could feel Kimbe's wide eyes on him, knowing that him and the other missionaries were all but infamous for their refusal to swear. And yet here he was, after only two days in Uganda, breaking more rules than he ever had in his life.

"I was so fucking stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he yelled, hitting his forehead with repeated word. His crying morphed into heaving, ugly sobs, coating his back in another layer of cold sweat.

He refused to look at Kimbe's face, her voice quiet and alarmed. "What did you do?"

He struggled to breathe between his sobs, gasping for air. "How fucking full of myself must I be to think I could change him?" his hands clenched into fists. "I-I just wanted to do something, anything, to make a difference, to be useful, to be better than Cunningham, I don't know. I thought maybe if the General wasn't a problem, then things wouldn't be so, you know." but he wasn't thinking of the villagers, he only thought of himself, like the fucking self centred arsehole he was.

"Elder Price you didn't." He didn't answer as his head hit the dashboard. The plastic was still slightly warm, even at this hour. "You stupid, stupid boy."

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 47 - Start

They'd over shopped. Well and truly. Levi telling Eren to grab whatever he felt like, and Eren doing just that. Rather than go for highly processed food, Eren picked the healthier options. His omega naturally didn't extend that luxury to chocolate, grabbing three big family sized blocks of his favourites. By the time they reached the checkout, Eren was fading on his feet and Levi had never seen a shopping trolley so full. With enough food to last them a month, Levi found he had to get creative. Meat and vegetables soon got repetitive, and like when he'd been trying to get Eren eating properly, Eren was back to eating 6 small meals a day. If he'd been working, he wouldn't have been able to be there the way he currently was for his omega. Eren's morning sickness was still hitting hard, and he was still struggling with being intimate with his omega. It was like Eren needed his attention every second of every day, and honestly as much as he loved being the centre of Eren's world, he was spending so much time comforting him that they were still yet to talk. Every time the conversation vaguely turned towards what had happened, Eren would clam up. Or crawl into his lap for attention. They could talk about anything else... just not what happened while his boyfriend was awol for 10 fucking weeks. Then there was Erwin. Erwin was still sleeping on their sofa. He didn't know how to evict him though, not when Erwin wouldn't take his not so gentle hints of telling him to "fuck off back home". It felt like Erwin had taken it upon himself to chaperone then in their own fucking apartment. The one time Eren had decided he wanted to be intimate had been on the sofa. His boyfriend climbing into his lap and claiming his lips, despite the fact Levi was actually interested in the movie there were watching. That soon went out the window. His alpha confused, but also aroused by the fact Eren wanted him badly enough to make the first move. Not making it off the sofa, Eren was riding him. His boyfriend was only wearing one of Levi's oversized shirt, that didn't hide a thing. Meaning It did absolutely nothing to hide the fact they were fucking when Erwin let himself in... just as his knot popped and Eren came between them with an unmistakable groan of release. In his defence, Eren was always vocal during sex, and just because his words weren't working didn't mean his moans weren't. He hadn't heard a fucking thing. In fact, Erwin was the one who should have fucking known it wasn't safe to come in. Gasping and panicking, Eren had tried to climb from his lap, almost managing to tear himself off Levi's knot. It wasn't a great feeling for either it them. And Erwin stood there for a full thirty seconds before closing the door to them. Intimacy went out the window after that. Eren wasn't even sleeping in his bed, with him. Not all the time. He was like Titan. He'd start the night off in his own room, wander into Levi's at some point, and then back to his own. So for Levi. It was a painfully long fucking week that left him fucking exhausted. * Eren was on autopilot as Levi got him ready to leave. The alpha's nerves were sky high. His anger barely contained as he spent the whole morning snapping at every little thing. Titan had vomited across he kitchen floor. The toaster had decided to die, and then go magically flying, leaving a trail of crumbs as it did. Drawn by the noise, Eren had sleepily stumbled from the bathroom. Looking to the mess, he'd given a squeak and darted into his bedroom. Sending Erwin in to check on him, Eren was hiding in his bed. The omega refused to come out, so Levi had to go in. Getting Eren up, dressed and sipping water so he'd have a full bladder for his ultrasound, he nearly yelled at him. He also didn't miss the fact Eren's phone was flat, and signing to him wasn't getting anywhere. The little shit had picked the worst day to be a brat. He knew he was fucking nervous about the ultrasound, but that didn't mean he needed to shut everyone out. They were barely on time. He'd had to drag Eren along, despite how worked up Eren had become during the drive. Called through the moment they got there, the technician proceeded to bombard Eren with questions. Happily asking if this was Eren's first ultrasound. If he was excited. If this was first baby, and how far along he thought he was. Getting no answer, the man fell silent, leading them into the room. The dark atmosphere wasn't what Eren was expecting, the omega coming to a dead stop "It's fine, brat" "Is he alright?" "Yeah. He's just nervous. He's also currently mute, so don't take his silence personally" There was a coolness to Levi's words, but once said, he couldn't exactly take it back "Right. Alright then, Eren jump up on the bed for me and we'll get started" Getting positioned, Levi stood by the bed. His hand on Eren's shoulder rather than holding his hand, as his alpha internally melted down. He was about to see someone else's pup, growing inside his boyfriend. It left an unbearably bitter taste in his mouth, but that paled when compared with the bad taste his own actions and thoughts were causing. He'd never thought it would bother him as much as this... and he couldn't deny his feelings emotions from Eren's pregnancy scare were bleeding into the situation. They'd wanted to experience this together... and now, some other alpha had taken that from him. Wriggling as the gel was smeared across his stomach, both he and Eren were holding their breaths "Ah. Here we go. Eren, meet your baby" The tiny human in the sea of black was the most amazing thing Levi had ever seen "You look to be about 11 weeks... here, do you want to hear your baby's heartbeat?" Tears filled his eyes. The strong sound stirring his alpha "Do you know the approximate date of conception?" Levi cough to clear his throat, choked up on emotion "Around the 10th of April or so" The technician nodded, typing on his keyboard "All these measurements are looking good. There's a little more fluid than I'd expect. But nothing to be worried about. At this stage, everything looks to be going smoothly. Are we doing the genetic screening tests today?" Eren looked up at him for an explanation "Yeah... yeah. Don't worry. It's just to make sure nothing is wrong with the baby" Normally his obstetrician would take care of that, but Levi hadn't made that appointment as he was still yet to see his doctor. His brain couldn't math "Wait. Just for clarification, conception date..." The man looked like he'd heard the question a million times before "Looks about right for April. Is there some question over the father?" "N-no" For all the times to fucking stutter. Eren looked hurt, his eyes shifting back to the screen "Do you two need a moment? We can take a blood sample and perform a DNA test" "No, it's fine..." He was going to be a father... and suddenly he was kicking himself all over again for his behaviour and attitude. Burying his face in Eren's hair, he breathed in deeply. He'd been such a fucking arsehole to him. This was his pup. He'd been a shitty jealous idiot for nothing. Eren hadn't loved the placenta sample being taken. Levi taking his hand and having it crushed during the procedure. He'd perked up when receiving photos from the procedure, but fallen silent all over again as they left the room. Stopping by the bathroom for Eren's sake, his omega brushed him off and ignored him completely when he came out. Letting himself out ahead of Levi, Erwin rose to great the omega, while Levi was left jogging to catch up to the pair as they walked towards the exit "So? How did it look?" "I'm the father. I'm going to be a father. We're having a pup" Erwin's smile was huge as he pulled both him and Eren into crushing hug "Congratulations! That has to be a relief" Eren shoved Erwin off of him, his eyes filled with tears "I told you I never f-fucking slept with anyone else!" His boyfriend's voice was gravelly from lack of use. Erwin's smile dropped, while Levi looked away in shame "You said you'd love me, and my pup. But you hated it when you thought it wasn't yours" Coughing, Eren's hand went to his throat "Eren, rest your throat. It's going to feel weird talking again" "I'm done" Levi felt like those two words went right through him "What do you mean you're done?! You go missing and show back up in a mental facility, pregnant. You're not fucking talking about what happened and you weren't fucking pregnant when you left! How am I supposed to take all this?! I fucking you love. I love you and you left again. So of course I'm going to have trouble adjusting to the fact you're fucking pregnant. Of course I'm going to be fucking jealous someone else touched you. You never fucking said anything. Do you know how worried I was about you? Do you? Do you have any idea what I went through? I thought you were dead and then you showed up in the middle of nowhere. So yes. I didn't love that pup. But you didn't give me a chance. If I had time to think or five fucking minutes to myself, I might have been able to sort out how I felt, but every waking moment I've been by your side" "We should take this outside" Erwin was right, they'd attracted attention. But Eren wasn't done "Fine. You want me gone again. I get it. I want to go Hanji's" Eren rasped out the words, grimacing in discomfort "Look. I think you both need to calm down. Eren, Levi loves you. And yes, he lost his mind when you disappeared again. You've had time to get adjust to this pregnancy, and he hasn't. It's not easy for an alpha to accept their omega has been touched by another, and with no idea how far along you were, Levi couldn't control the anger his alpha has been supplying. He wanted a future with you, so he's been trying to figure out how you felt about this pup and pregnancy. Especially after what you both went through when you thought you may be pregnant. If it was from a non-consensual encounter, he was preparing to support you, no matter what you chose. Everything he's done, has been for you. Think about what he's been through" Eren burst into tears, hugging himself tightly. Levi was slightly in shock from Erwin being able to explain things so easily. It was everything he wanted to tell Eren "Look. I was a dick. I was jealous at the idea it wasn't mine. I do love you. And I'm sorry for being an arsehole. It's just a lot. All of this is a lot. It's all happening so fast. Shit. I sound like a shitty idiot. Do you get it? I'm sorry"

[oldthe-nothing-maker]

Magnus walks through the debris of Raven’s Roost, and sees the dead, charcoal-twisted bodies of people he once knew, and gingerly pushes the remnants of the burnt door of Hammers and Tongs, and watches as ash settles on the long wild hair of his dead wife, and

he’s, like, okay with that.

He gets to work with a mechanical precision, the kind of which you get when you do something for a long time, a bit like hammering and carpentry and things (that’s what he tells himself as he drags Julia’s weight on the floor by the arms – there’s dried blood in her eyes, and she looks both hurt and surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting the pain). Of course he checks on both her and Steven first, just because; and after what he goes to look for survivors, and he finds none, and he’s still okay with that.

The okayness settles in; goes on for quite some time, even. He builds the funeral pyre, arranges the bodies in a rough but honest fashion: he doesn’t have the time to make something fancy, but he doesn’t want to rush through it, either, because, hey, that’s still his wife.

He lights the fire as night comes down: there is an unbearable amount of stars in the sky. He looks up to them, thinks to himself that he’s seen better, but then again, he’s also seen worst.

He’s still okay. He is tired, weary, sure; his legs are cramped, and a nasty cough has developed throughout the day in his smoke-filled lungs. His eyelids are heavy and he closes both his eyes as the first flames lick the soles of the feet of seventy-four dead bodies.

It’s okay, he thinks. It’s okay. It’s the year business.

He looks up to the sky once again, and, suddenly,

��none of them will ever come back”

and the finite, definitive, absolute unchanging never reachable never mortal number of stars in the sky weights way, way too much on Magnus Burnsides’ shoulders.

***

It’s a lot of fire, like, a lot of times, to be honest.

Magnus is a tough guy and his Armour Class is pretty high, so when shit gets risky, he’s usually the one that can handle the kicks: when the situation calls for it, he will jump out of the occasional window or walk through a Wall of Fire or two.

Here’s the thing, though: the party is composed of one warrior and six mages, and their Armour Class is shit, and fire kills people.

They all laugh, ten years later, when they remember one of Lup’s experiments where she tried to mix two spells and BOOM went the lab; they make jokes whenever Lup cooks, or when she says she’s just had a brilliant idea. “Hey guys, new video, new experiment: let’s find out what happens if I mix bleach and vinegar?” says Davenport in a perfect imitation of Lup’s obnoxious voice, and Merle nearly pisses himself laughing.

But that’s only ten cycles later: BOOM went the lab, and it’s Magnus who goes in what remains of the room with a poor attempt at a haphazard mask on his face, to see if any of the twins or Lucretia or Barry are alive, and comes back cradling four burnt bodies in his arms. None of them are bigger than foetuses: they’re just burnt bones. Burnt bones and a lot of black dust.

Davenport loses the control of the ship, once, on a volcanic land: they all watch from the shore, frozen, as lava bubbles up in the main cabin, and they spend the entire year nearly killing themselves trying to repair the ship because they can’t fucking die here because of a fucking parking mistake.

Of course, Merle pisses off the wrong guy at the wrong moment: Magnus hears his bad joke and he doesn’t even have time to look at him funny to tell him to stop trying to push that arsehole’s buttons: said arsehole says something in tongues, and in a second, Merle, his plants, his new shoes, his tiny eggplant-shaped watering can – all of it is reduced to really thin ash that rains on the white tiles of their house. A robot comes immediately to clean it off and Magnus has to break it open to put Merle’s remains into some kind of jar or something (he never stops doing that – mortuary rites, that is. Maybe he should? It’s hard to say.)

And of course, Merle doesn’t say a lot about his meetings with the Hunger (if anything at all about it, actually), but Magnus knows just enough to know that it involves a lot of darkness and a lot of fire, especially at the end.

Lup uses fire, and a spell goes wrong, and she disappears engulfed in the hell she’s created, and she dies. Barry gets in the way of a stray Magic Missile, and he spends three days agonizing in bed as magical burns slowly eat him from the inside, and he dies. Lucretia falls into a trap inside some sick labyrinth thingy, and they helplessly hit the bubble in which she’s imprisoned as the heat rises inside, and she dies. Taako – golden, green, beautiful Taako – is a bit too slow, a bit too far, and Magnus can hold his hand out all he wants but a Scout opens its opal mouth to spit a ray of black flames and Magnus’ hand catches nothing but smoke: Taako burns, and he dies.

Magnus survives. Magnus lingers on.

If the fight’s been really rough, if things have gone sour, Magnus asks Lucretia to draw him. He watches the burns and the terrible blisters blossom on his arms like patches of tiny pale flowers, and Lucretia takes them all in. If Lucretia is dead, he tries to do it himself. It’s not as good. After what he takes a needle and some thread he keeps in his pockets because – because who fucking knows when you’ll need a needle and some thread? – and he works his way through his wounds. The thread fills up with pus, blood and lymph. Magnus thinks, ahah, it looks JUST like constellations!

He looks outside, towards the empty space across the universe. Sometimes there are stars. Sometimes there are not. He thinks, he doesn’t remember what his constellations looked like. At least he keeps the scars secure.

The next cycle, the blisters are gone. Magnus’ elbows and knees are scar-free. He still has thread in his pockets. Lucretia draws, Merle garden, Lup experiments, Barry thinks, Davenport pilots, and Taako smiles. They heal.

They die.

They heal.

They die.

They heal.

Fun fact: you actually grow used to it real fast. Incredible, right?

Magnus says that he likes being sure that “time will heal all wounds”. No one understands the worry beneath, lighting the cracks on the floor: that Magnus isn’t stupid, and their time isn’t limitless, and eventually, eventually, eventually, gods, please, he will not know what to do with uncertainty.

***

- What am I going to do if you never come back? If none of you ever come back? Or – any of you?

Lucretia looks at him with careful eyes, heavy eyelids on heavy eyelashes:

- We’ll always come back.

- But – I mean, after we do... All that, you know? I mean, our main goal, it’s to, uh, not having to, you know, always have to run away, find the Light, all of that, so.

- You’ll have time to think about it when we reach that point. We will all have time to do this. You should not worry about this for now.

Magnus lowers his head. His voice is small when he speaks again:

- But I do.

***

The girl’s eyes are grey like rainclouds and her hands are cool to the touch. Magnus is so godsdamn thirsty, he’d probably kill for a cup of water.

- Here, take some of this, she says.

She hands him a gourd full of liquid. When he splashes the lukewarm water on his face, he feels like living again, which he’s pretty sure Taako would find, wow, that’s, that’s some comedy gold right there, pumpkin, wow! Spot on!

The girl keeps on watching him with these big, cloudy eyes. He drinks some more, and then maybe even a little more, and says to her:

- I think I overestimated my, uh, you know, my overall abilities to, uh, you know... Survive.

- Yeah, says the girl.

He hands her back the gourd; and then, he says:

- Hey. Uh. Okay, it’s going to sound, uh, kinda weird, so don’t – don’t freak out. But. How would you like... Some kind of magical cup, that can, uh, protect people, but like, forever? As, you know, thanks. For the water.

The girl immediately calls on her father about the fuckin’ weirdo over there. Magnus thinks he’s making the good choice.

In his hands, the cup tugs at the strings of his heart, and on that beat it sings good songs of golden homes.

***

What did it say again?

***

Water, water.

More water.

And after the stars, finally,

void.

***

Fire.

***

Magnus just can’t realise she’s not ever coming back. It’s too much. It’s too painful. It’s not how it should be.

Gods, please, why can’t he?

***

Why can’t he.

***

Why can’t he.

***

Why can’t he.

***

If Merle makes that awful pussy-eating grimace once again, Magnus will jump off the moving cart.

***

Why can’t he.

***

Everything heals given time, the cup says, but then it adds, and its voice tastes like honey, and Magnus thinks of gold and all things warm and home, home, home: and everything dies.

***

- Yaknow, I can’t believe you fuckin’ told that, that miracle cup to, uh, can it.

Taako has scars all over him. Some Magnus has seen grow and heal; some he feels like they shouldn’t be there; some cause him pain too. Of course, he’s not looking at him as he talks. Taako doesn’t do heart-to-hearts the fantasy movies way, baby.

- Yeah, well. That would have been selfish.

- Oh, uh-uh, sure, yeah, definitely.

Taako looks at his nails a little more:

- Well, anyway, we all did good, and we were all brave, so, so that’s, that’s pretty good in itself, hm, that’s what you, you could call a success story, isn’t it?

Magnus stays silent for a while.

- Yeah. I guess.

***

Add some more fire.

Also, soul bonding with his arms outstretched, a Mannequin Interlude, and revelations.

But mostly fire.

***

Magnus is still reeling. His arms are full of all the people he loves, has loved, will love, and he doesn’t even think about it, but, yeah, that’s true:

The stars? Still here, still not moving. Still real heavy. Time hasn’t stopped. Things still grow. Things still go.

And things still grow. And go. And grow. So home can too.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjbtuNBRzbE)

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 12: Timisoara – Wazzte of time

I awoke today to the rather pleasant surprise of all five of my room-mates from the previous evening having checked out and fucked off, meaning that I now, for the morning at least, had a full eight person dorm room, all to myself.

Allowing myself a few moments to enjoy this rare pleasure, I jotted down a quick list of all the things I wished to see and do in Timisoara (which, for the most part was just a list of parks that looked quite pleasant to walk around) and ate some of my remaining pastries for breakfast, being in possession of little else that could provide sustenance. Anyway, list completed, I was nearly ready to go. After my morning tinkle, of course.

The toilets are by far and away the worst thing in this otherwise quite pleasant hostel. There is no lock on the outside door, so people can and do barge in at any given moment. The cubicles, as I mentioned previously are fairly flimsy and their curiously double doors are held shut, only by a small latch, which leaves a very noticeable crack in the door, through which, anyone with the inclination could look to see, quite clearly, another human defecating. In addition to this, the hostel operates a strict “no shoes” policy. While I'm quite sure that it's a very lovely idea not to have guests draping their dog-shit encrusted shoes all over the linen, in the bedroom, extending this rule to the bathroom seems...ill advised. They are essentially a public toilet, and I was being asked to walk into them, only be-socked. Though they were cleaned frequently, I have found frequently that wet patches can and do appear and whether they are innocent puddles of water, or more insidious little piss-lakes, they obviously soak through socks, all the same. Not a great state of affairs, particularly for a pooper a shy as I. Regardless, I powered through, dancing effortlessly around the wazz lakes and soon found myself relieved and ready to leave.

Almost as soon as leaving the hostel, I stumbled, rather fortuitously, directly into the city's Christmas market. In stark contrast to Cluj's market, Timisoara's offerings had a bit more character and interest. I very quickly spotted some absolutely ridiculous looking trinkets which would make wonderfully terrible souvenirs. They were pricey though, and my Lei supplies were nearly at the point I would describe as running low. Maybe. I really wasn't sure.

My initial plan, given that literally all the train lines from Timisoara to Belgrade (my next destination) had stopped running in recent years was to catch a ride on a passenger transportation service shuttle car...thing with a company called “GeaTours”. That plan abruptly changed earlier this morning, when I looked up their google reviews and found that they were...to put it kindly, not well thought of. Passengers complained of supposedly four hour trips taking upwards of twelve, multiple denials of entry to the intended country, due to the driver's lack of proper documentation, sometimes not showing up at all...horror story after horror story filled these pages and I was, understandably, no longer keen on utilising their services. My new plan then, was to catch a train from Timisoara, across the border to the Serbian town of Vrsac and then hop on board a bus to Belgrade, from there. This, however, would have to be paid for in Lei, rather than the Euros, which GeaTours were asking for. I needed to know how much it would cost, before I could gleefully throw my remaining money away on absolute, terrible garbage.

As it turns out, the station I would need to catch my train from was Timisoara Nord. The one, fifty minutes away, that I had walked from the previous day. Excellent. I trudged through the now-snowwy city streets (again though, more horrible slush than pristine white blankets of crispness) back to the station and wearily took my place in the queue.

Not knowing how to pronounce Vrsac, I decided to just play the daft laddy and ask for a ticket to Belgrade, allowing the cashier to correct me. I did and she did. She pointed at a sign sellotaped to her little window. I cast my gaze over it, briefly and saw the word “Vrsac” on it. Good enough for me. I asked for one ticket there and was given it. Great. All I had to do now was figure out what the fuck to do once I got there.

“Wait a second...” I muttered to myself as I surveyed my new ticket. “...Why does this say 'to Moravita' on it. Where the fuck is Moravita?”

I googled. Just on the Romanian side of the border. That is not what I asked for. Sighing, I retook my place in the queue to complain. As I approached the front again, though, I re-read the sign she had pointed to. It said, rather than “you need to go to Vrsac instead of Belgrade” as I had assumed, “all trains to Vrsac cancelled. Soz!”.

Double fuck and twenty rotten arseholes. Now I double had no idea what I was doing. Confused, I left, vowing to just ask someone who worked at the hostel what on earth I should do, instead of spend the entire day slamming my head against a wall, alone. Still, the ticket had only cost me 7.2 Leu; the equivalent to £1.30 (though, initially, I did think she had meant that it cost 72 Leu, which is obviously the equivalent of £13, which had me choking back fury and bile as I forked it over. No wonder she looked at me like I was stupid.). At the very least, I definitely had enough to buy all the stupid shit I wanted at the market.

After I did exactly that, I found myself a little stumped. It was cold. Like, super cold. Like, so cold, if you take your hands, gloved or not, out of your pockets for even a second, the nipping, awful pail was nigh on unbearable. I didn't really fancy being outside, but, given how worried I was about getting to my next destination, didn't really fancy attempting to navigate my way into any of the city's museums or eateries. I steeled myself and walked to and then around the botanic park, having missed the opportunity to do so in literally every city I have visited thus far before it struck me that I was uncomfortably cold; my legs ached from exertion and my face ached from the whipping, icy wind. I was definitely just staying outside out of a misplaced sense of duty rather than any genuine desire to do so, and so I decided to go home. After a quick stop in a small grocery store to pick up some ingredients for a dinner, during which a beggar tried to convince me that the bag of flour, swaddled in blankets she was carrying was an actual baby and not just very obviously a bag of flour, and a grindingly unpleasant walk, I was home. I promptly bundled myself under my blanket, like I was a bag of flour and began the witheringly slow process of heating myself up.

Soon, I was hot enough for hunger, rather than cold to be the overriding discomfort in my life and so I made my dinner. The manufacture of this dinner was fairly non-descript, though was soured slightly when another guessed strolled into the kitchen and used every drop of water from the kettle I had just boiled for a cup of tea, just as I was reaching for it in order to boil my gnocchi. Prick.

I was interrupted, however, during the imbibing of the dinner, by the hulking German receptionist of the hostel. I had told him earlier that I was trying to go to Belgrade and he told me, in a rather helpfully that he would look into it. And look into it he had. Apparently, in the intermittent time, he had sent two emails to two different passenger transport companies that frequently ran that route. All I had to do now was wait for one of them to accept me and I could throw away my laughably cheap, laughably shit train ticket. Hurrah! I was saved. Most likely, anyway. And I didn't even have to get robbed or dropped off in the wrong country by GeaTours to do it!

I returned to my room, fairly exhausted, despite accomplishing very little, during the day. I was still the only guest in my particular dorm, and so could happily spend the rest of the evening making as much noise, while being sprawled out in as ungainly a pose as I liked, which was obviously delightful. I fell asleep, content to be the king of my own tiny, rubbish, little country.

[ph-piecebypiece-blog]

Chapter Seven: Part Two

Authors note: This part is quite mature! But if that’s something that bothers anyone you can skip it without getting lost in the story. Enjoy ;)

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. Partially due to what she had said, but more so because wasn't expecting such a brazen confession. Everly's cheeks burned as he stared at her with a mixture of surprise and arousal on his face.

“I-I'm sorry, what?” Harry stuttered out after a few moments of silence. His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry.

“I, uh, I've never had an orgasm before,” She repeated, less confidently this time.

Harry's movement on her leg had stopped, but his hand stayed just under her knee.

“But you're twenty-six!”

“Almost twenty-six,” Everly corrected. “And Adam never really cared about making that happen. Even before he turned into an arsehole, he must just have been shit in bed because it never happened.”

“What about guys before that?”

“There were none,” She confessed, her cheeks burning. “And before you ask, I've tried to do it myself, but it just never really worked I guess.”

Harry's alcohol fuelled mind was instantly filled with images of the woman on his couch touching herself and his pants suddenly felt a little tighter than they had a moment ago.

“I really can't believe that,” He said as he rested his shot glass on the arm of the couch and continued rubbing her leg with his hand. He let it venture a little higher, just slightly, knowing it was a bit of a risk, but unable to resist with the current topic of conversation. His voice had dropped to a huskier level and Everly felt a heat pool in her stomach at his tone.

“Well it's not really that uncommon,” She told him as she leaned over to put her own glass on the table before staying sat up instead of leaning back against the arm where she’d been before. “Apparently a lot of women have trouble orgasming.”

“Hmm, now do you have trouble orgasming or has no one with the right technique ever tried?” Harry's hand slid a tiny bit higher and his thumb rubbed gently on her thigh. Everly's heart began to race, but she swallowed hard and tried to clear her mind of anything other than Harry and how almost unbearably attractive he was.

“I don't know,” Everly said quietly, leaning in a bit closer to Harry. “Do y-you have a certain technique you would recommend?”

“I have a few I could test out,” Harry assured her. “But I can absolutely promise you that I could make you cum.”

Everly felt a shiver of anticipation at his words and stared at him for a moment. She was unsure what to say and could see Harry showing tremendous restraint, realizing that this conversation was taking things farther than they had yet and not wanting to push her too far. His sweet consideration of her feelings only made the heat in her stomach swell even more and she couldn't resist any longer, pressing her lips against his. Relieved that she had given him the okay, Harry instantly moved into action. His hand moved from her thigh to the back of her neck, pressing their lips even harder together, his other hand moving to her waist. Pushing himself further onto the couch, he gently lowered her down so she was laying on her back with him on top of her. Her hands instantly moved to his broad, strong shoulders as she breathed in his scent. A scent that was so wonderful to her already charged senses, a scent she was using to remind herself where she was and who she was with.

Shifting to get more comfortable, Everly adjusted her hips slightly allowing Harry to settle between them. Even through the layers of clothes she could feel him growing stiff and let out a quiet gasp as he pressed down against her. Taking the opportunity, Harry slipped his tongue into her mouth and gently rubbed it against hers. Every nerve in her body was tingling in anticipation as she knew where they were finally headed and she moved her legs up, locking her ankles around Harry's lower back and pressing down slightly as she moved her hips and rubbed against him.

Harry pulled his lips away from hers as a soft groan fell from them. They'd been in this position several times before, but Everly had always been reserved. Not on edge, but not proactive and she'd certain never started practically dry humping against him and the new movement was almost too much for him to handle after the weeks of build up with no release.

“Are you okay?” He asked, needing a moment to catch his breath.

“Yes,” Everly breathed out, her cheeks flushed.

“Are you,” Harry swallowed hard, trying to regain a smidgen of control. “Are you drunk?”

“A little bit,” Everly admitted. “But not too drunk to know how bad I want this, how bad I want you.”

Harry groaned and dropped his head to reconnect their lips. He only stayed there momentarily though before he moved them, slowly tracing kisses down her jaw until he reached her neck. He placed a gentle kiss against her pulse point before he paused again.

“Your heart is racing,” He told her, wanting to be absolutely sure she was okay.

“I know,” She assured him. “I'm nervous, but I'm fine. I swear.”

Harry nodded, his light stubble tickling her neck as he did so.

“Alright,” He whispered, his hot breath against her neck making her tilt her head back to give him better access. “Just relax, love. I'll make you feel good, I promise. And I'll stop anytime you want.”

“I don't want you to,” Everly practically moaned earning a chuckle from Harry as he resumed placing light kisses against her skin.

He kissed down her neck and over the little patch by her collar bone that wasn't covered by her t-shirt, but soon ran out of exposed skin. His hands toyed with the bottom of her shirt.

“Can we get this out of the way?” He asked softly, lifting it up slightly. At first Everly nodded, but as it was about to pass her bellybutton her hands shot down and grabbed his wrists.

“Wait,” She said, biting her bottom lip slightly. “Harry, I-I have scars.”

Harry felt a surge of anger pulse through him. Not at the woman beneath him by any means, but by the man who had caused such a beautiful, strong woman to have such insecurities.

“I don't care,” He assured her, placing a soft kiss against her lips. “You're beautiful just the way you are.”

“Okay,” Everly swallowed hard, not convinced he'd feel that way once he saw her, but nodded.

Harry slowly lifted her shirt over her head, the anticipation of seeing more of her skin almost killing him, but he once again exercised his control, desperate to not scare her. Once her shirt was over her head and tossed aside, he looked down at her. He couldn't even see them at first, but she saw his eyes searching for the aforementioned scars. They went from just under her armpit, over the side of her left breast and speckled on her rib cage. It happened one night when she'd taken a late shower interrupted by a very high Adam. He dragged her out, accused her of cheating on him, broke a glass in anger and then knocked her down causing the glass to scrape and embed it's self all in her side. It was luckily a place that was easy to hide, but it was making her feel even more vulnerable now than she had already been. She saw his eyes land on the part of the scar that was exposed before they flicked up to meet hers.

“So fucking beautiful,” He whispered before returning his lips to her skin. They traced their way along the top of her bra, lighting her skin on fire as they went. The way he was arousing her body was unfamiliar to her. She'd had sex, but she'd never been this worked up and desperate for it. Her body was begging him for more and he'd barely even started. Embarrassed by her eager reaction she tried to reign herself in, but she couldn't help the small moans that slipped from her lips. Emboldened by her response, Harry slid his arms underneath her, lifting her back off the couch just enough to expertly, and with only one hand, unhook her bra. As soon as it was out of the way, his lips went back to work, starting on the side of her left breast that was covered in small, deep scars. The sight of him worshipping a damaged part of her body mixed with the incredible arousal she was feeling was almost too much for her and as Harry's other hand found her right breast and began gently massaging it, she felt tears fill her eyes. Her breath hitched as she blinked them back and Harry's head shot up.

“Are you alright?” He asked once again, his lips swollen from all the work they'd been doing and his pupils dilated from arousal.

“I'm perfect,” Everly nodded. “You're perfect. I just-I want you so badly.”

A cheeky grin slid onto his face.

“We'll get there, love,” He assured her. “But for now we need to focus on you.”

His hands moved to the button of her jeans, watching her face for any sign she wanted him to stop and when there was none, he swiftly pulled them down her legs taking her panties with them. He let out a long breath as he looked back up at her, finally taking in the sight of her naked underneath him, feeling himself grow impossibly hard against his jeans. He was desperate to remove them and get some relief, but he was serious about focusing on her and knew it was safer to keep them where they were for now.

Everly looked up at him as his eyes traced over her body, a soft, nervous smile on her lips. Her eyes were heavy with arousal and Harry continued his path, needing to look away before he lost all control. He kissed his way down until he was settled right between her legs, lifting one over each shoulder. The kisses stopped for a moment and Everly could feel his breath against her making her shudder.

“You're so wet,” He murmured causing a whimper of need to fall from her lips.

Harry smiled, loving how she writhed beneath him, no doubt in his mind that he was about to make her feel a whole new world of pleasure. Without waiting another minute, he used his fingers to slowly open her up to him before he placed a gentle kiss right on the swollen bundle of nerves in front of him. She gasped in response, moving a hand to tangle in his hair. Spurred on by her reaction, he began gently licking and sucking the tiny little bud, causing feelings unlike none she'd ever felt to flow through her. Her hips pressed up against him almost on their own accord and Harry grinned against her, almost as desperate to feel her release as she was. His hands slid up and down her thighs before one finally slid underneath to join his mouth. He gently slid two fingers inside moaning as he felt how warm and wet she was, the vibrations mixed with the sensation of finally being filled drawing another moan from Everly. He continued his ministrations for a few moments longer, letting her adjust to the feel of his fingers before slowly twisting them into a 'come here' motion against just the right spot. Everly's back arched off the couch with a shout of pleasure and Harry waited for the big moment to happen, knowing she was close.

“H-Harry,” Everly's voice broke through his concentration. “I c-can't. I feel it, but I-I can't.”

The way she stuttered through her laboured breathing drew a moan from Harry as he pulled his mouth back slightly.

“You can,” He urged her. “Just relax, don't fight it. Go with it and let it go.”

He placed his mouth back against her, licking with a little more force, determined to get her there. Moments later, his efforts were rewarded as she tossed her head back with a guttural moan and her hips bucked up as her insides quivered around Harry's fingers.

“Oh my,” She said breathing heavy as she came down from her very first orgasm. “Oh my god. That was-that was amazing.”

Harry crawled back up over her body, a smug grin on his face.

“I told you I could do it,” He bragged. “Congratulations on your first orgasm.”

A blush filled Everly's already flushed cheeks.

“Thank you,” She smiled before leaning up to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips. “Now lets get you out of these clothes, Harry.”

She began unbuttoning his shirt, almost painfully slowly then slid her hands all the way back up his stomach and over his chest before pushing it off his shoulders and down his back. His head dropped to her neck, the sensation of her touching him too much for his already overly aroused body.

“You're killing me, love,” He groaned as he slipped his hands out the sleeves and tossed it aside.

“Payback,” Everly teased as her hands glided over the little happy trail leading towards his belt. She made quick work of unbuckling it before she undid his jeans as well. Sliding them down just enough, she slid her hand inside his boxers easily finding what she was looking for and as her hand wrapped around him a groan fell from his lips and a quiet gasp fell from hers. “Harry, you're so big.”

Her hand stoked up and down the length of him as she told him that in genuine shock. The length and girth was far more than what she'd experienced before and Adam wasn't necessarily classed as smaller than average.

Harry's breath was growing heavy against her neck as his arms strained to keep him lifted above her while her hand drove him wild.

“Everly,” He choked out. “I can't, I-I won't last long if you keep that up. I want you so fucking bad, I'm about to explode.”

Everly giggled, but pulled her hand away from him and allowed him to wiggle out of his jeans. Once he was back, settled between her legs, Everly took a deep breath.

“Go slow, okay?” Everly asked, looking down at what rested against her entrance nervously. “It's been a while.”

“Of course,” Harry smiled, resting his forehead against hers and connecting their lips. He stayed like that for a moment, just simply kissing her before slowly pressing forward and sliding inside. Everly groaned, half from pleasure and half from pain as Harry moved until he was buried all the way inside her. “Fuck,” He breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly as he savoured the sensation.

He stayed inside her, completely still for what felt like forever until he felt her body relax a bit. Then he gently rocked his hips testing the waters to see her reaction. A gasp of pleasure filled his ears and he grinned as he began to slowly and gently thrust inside her. He gradually picked up speed, spurred on by the loud moans falling from Everly's lips. Her hands ran up and down his back causing him to groan with pleasure and bite his lip, feeling ready to burst just a few moments in. The sensation only intensified as Everly threw her leg on the back of the couch trying to give him space to get deeper, to get the angle she needed him to hit and he slowed his movements slightly to save himself, earning a noise of disappointment from his lover.

“Everly,” He whispered hoarsely to get her attention. She forced open her eyes and was met with an intense look of self-restraint from Harry. “Do you think you can cum again?”

The question brought a flush of embarrassment to Everly's cheeks as she nodded.

“Yes,” She croaked out. “I can-I can feel it already.”

“Perfect,” Harry groaned, picking up his speed again making a satisfied cry fall from Everly's lips. He watched her for a second as he thrust into her before shifting his weight onto one arm and moving the other hand down to her core, knowing he needed to get her there fast. Her nails dug into his shoulder as he gently stroked the spot his tongue had played with earlier and her moans filled the room.

“Fuck, Harry,” She practically purred in his ear earning a groan from the very worked up prince on top of her. “I'm right there.”

Harry adjusted his footing, using the arm of his couch for leverage, not even caring that the shot glass he had placed their earlier tumbled to the floor and shattered. He thrust even harder into her, picking up speed as he lost the tiny bit of control he had been holding on to.

“Me too, baby,” He breathed against her neck as she dug her nails into his shoulder. “Go with me, cum with me.”

One last moan of pleasure exploded from her lips as her back arched and she clenched around him. The sensation was too much for Harry and with a few more hard, purposeful thrusts he let go, his whole body shuddering with his release before he collapsed on top of her.

They lay tangled up together for a few moments, just fighting to catch their breath before either of them could speak.

“That was amazing,” Harry told her, placing another gentle kiss on her lips.

Everly nodded, feeling her emotions all bubbling up under the surface. She was determined not to cry like some weird teenager who just lost her virginity, but she couldn't keep her feelings to herself.

“Thank you, Harry,” She whispered, blinking back tears.

“For your first ever orgasm?” He smirked. “You are welcome, it was my pleasure.”

“Not just for that,” She giggled, lacing her fingers with his as he propped himself up on one elbow, noticing the emotion in her voice. “For being so patient and gentle. And for taking the time to make sure I enjoyed it even after I made you wait so long.”

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion.

“You don't have to thank me for that, love,” He assured her. “Half the fun is making sure you enjoy it too, hearing and seeing your reactions makes it even more enjoyable for me. It's not a chore.”

“I know, but I've never experienced it like that before,” She reminded him. “And you've just been so wonderful with me every step of the way and I appreciate it. I just want you to know that.”

“Of course,” Harry smiled before placing one last kiss on her lips and pushing himself up off the couch. “Now, I have a bed that is much comfier than this couch if you would like to see it?” Everly nodded and Harry offered her a hand to help her stand up. “Just be careful on the floor, I think we broke something.”

Everly giggled, amused by the fact that they'd been so passionately tangled up in each other that they'd barely even noticed and followed Harry up the stairs to his bed that, as promised, was far more comfortable than the couch.