#this is the chapter they finally kiss

[pixiedane]

Chapters: 9/18 Fandom: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Organized Crime, FBI Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Maureen Stabler, Kathleen Stabler, Richard “Dickie” Stabler, Elizabeth Stabler, Elliot “Eli” Stabler Jr., Noah Porter Benson, Amanda Rollins, Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr., Jet Slootmaekers, Jamie Whelan, Carl | Maureen Stabler’s Husband, Bernadette Stabler, Ayanna Bell, Odafin “Fin” Tutuola, Stuart Scola, Tiffany Wallace, Additional Characters in Minor Roles Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Living Together, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Family Drama, Past Domestic Violence, Past Torture, Past Sexual Assault, Psychological Trauma, Childhood Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Declarations Of Love, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note

Summary:

She didn't remember not loving him, not as long as she knew him. There wasn't a moment when she realized it. There were all the moments at once.

Or, she's ready.

Chapter-specific warnings: references to rape/child of rape, generational trauma, depression, death, survivor's guilt, emotional infidelity, Burton Lowe, William Lewis

A New Hope

[rendevok]

Act II ~ The Challenge

A tapestry for chapter 2 of Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 5

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Hand feeding, praise, kink negotiations, discussion of power exchange dynamics, kissing (FINALLY)

When you reach for the cardboard box on the edge of the table, he catches both of your wrists in one hand. You only resist a little bit. His other hand flicks the box open and he picks up a thick fry.

“Open,” he rumbles, pressing it to your lips. When you open your mouth, you watch his pupils dilate. He purrs as you take a bite. “Good girl.”

The rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You would let him feed you limp celery with that tone. You lean forward again, jaw dropping open.

“Should talk now,” Simon rumbles, thumb dragging over your lip as he feeds you the rest of the fry. The contact electrifies you down to your toes. You must make some kind of noise as you swallow because he smiles. “Didn’t consider I might feed you myself.”

“Okay,” you breathe, leaning into the hand cupping your cheek.

“Finished your stretches?”

The temperature in your body drops significantly. You lean away from him. “I…uh. I… didn’t.”

Simon hums a low note, hand finding your chin again without making you look into his eyes. “Hurtin’ somewhere?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I just… I was in my work clothes. And I didn’t want to do… that in front of Gaz and Soap.”

“Fair,” Simon says, drawing you forward to brush his lips over your forehead. You feel your face get hot all the way up to where they brush against you as he speaks. “You want to do them now, or later?”

The tension you barely noticed creeping into your shoulders melts away. Of course. Simon is just Simon now, not Ghost. If you aren’t comfortable doing something, he’s not going to get mad, just give you other options. He’s kept you safe, and he’ll make sure you continue to feel safe under his instruction. Even though everything is different, it’s all the same.

Tears prickle your eyes, so you squeeze them shut as you lean further into him. Suddenly, one of his arms is around your back, the one on your leg lifting you into his lap. If there’s even a grunt of effort, you don’t hear it over the way your breath gets caught in your throat. Your hands come up, automatically, to brace against his chest and one bicep before you’re folded into him like that’s the only place you ever needed to be.

And then his lips find yours.

God, how many times had you thought about kissing him? The fantasy is so muted compared to the real thing. His lips are thin and a little dry, surrounded by the barest scratch of stubble. He doesn’t coax your mouth open, just presses his lips against yours like he could do this all night. The tip of his tongue flicks out for a quick touch to your top lip, startling a sound out of you. He does it again, opening his mouth to moan into yours when you squeeze his arm in response.

When your own tongue comes out to touch the scar you’ve always admired at the corner of his mouth, he growls. “Fuck, Bambi.”

“Simon.” You barely recognize your own voice.

The hand on your thigh goes tight. It startles a gasp from you that he drinks down with a groan of is own.

He surprises you by pulling back enough to speak between kisses. “Beautiful, you know that? Thought I was hallucinating.” He tips you back a bit, taking all of your weight to scan your face. He grins as he says, “Was thinkin’ so hard abou’ you, and ‘ere you are.”

“You were thinking about me?”

“’Course, I was,” he says, leaning back into the couch. You end up resting your head against his shoulder. He sighs and kisses the top of your hair. “Missed our check in this week, ‘n you’d this big trip you were all nervous for. Didn’t get to see you off. Was lookin’ forward to gettin’ the tour of your hotel room, gettin’ y’r travel stories. ‘n then I got the call today, n’ I was cancelin’ on you again. Just about broke my ‘eart.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say. You’d always kind of assumed he was indulging you, letting you ramble about your day until he could get to the good stuff, as your ex used to say. “I knew you were kind of… on call. I didn’t realize that you were saving hostages, but I knew you were busy.”

He twists a bit to look into your eyes. “Don’t like bein’ too busy to see you.”

“You just like seeing my ass,” you joke, burying your face into his neck to settle the butterflies in your stomach.

“’S a good arse,” he chuckles, shaking the meat of your thigh in his grip. “Was definitely lookin’ forward to a bit o’ skin. But if you were too tired, I jus’ wanted to ‘ear your voice, coax you through some of your stretches before bed. Speaking of…”

You roll your eyes at the significant look he gives you. The way he never forgets a command makes so much more sense now that you know what he does for a living. Your heart flutters to see the familiar way his scarred lips quirk at your sass, paired with the unfamiliar way he tweaks the skin of your hip with the gentlest pinch.

“I’ll do them later,” you concede. “I already did all my floor stretches, and I’m hungry now.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your ass. “Should prob’ly eat before it gets cold.”

He pops open the second takeaway container to reveal your meal, a dish you had picked basically at random from the menu Gaz had showed you on his phone. It’s a lot less hand-feedable than Simon’s wrap and fries, so he lets you feed yourself, but he refuses to let you sit on the couch, even halfway. Just holds you in place while he eats one-handed, trading fries for bites of chicken adana and tipping water into your mouth every few minutes.

You’re ravenous until you’re suddenly not, halfway through your food. Simon doesn’t comment, just finishes the other half of your food while you rest against him, exhausted. Simon’s hand is still on your hip, his thumb tracing back and forth in an idle, steady pattern.

When he finishes eating, he asks, “Where’s your head at?”

“Nervous,” you say automatically. This, at least, is familiar. “’M tired, and I don’t know what you’re gonna expect of me.”

He taps three fingers on your hip, twice. “Trust me?”

“You saved my life today,” you point out.

“Tha’s work,” he dismisses. “Not workin’ now. You trust me?”

You think about it, because he always wants you to think about it before you answer. You fall back on your rules, the promises between the two of you.

“I trust you to be honest with me,” you answer, the mantra coming easy. “I trust that it’s okay to tell you if I’m not okay with something. I trust that you won’t yell at me. I trust that you’re not going to hurt or harm me on purpose to correct my behavior.”

“Very good,” he rumbles, pulling you close to press his lips against your forehead again. “I trust you to be ‘onest with me, too. Trust you’ll accept a no, when I give it. Trust that you’re not g’nna yell. An’ I trust you not to punish me if you’re upset.”

“Wow,” you say. “I never expected to hear you say that in person.”

“Never thought I’d ever ‘old you,” he replies. “An’ I’ve never folded a whats-it-called… a romper, before, neither. Interestin’ day o’ firsts.”

“It’s a jumpsuit if it’s long,” you mumble, mortified all over again that he’d had all of your stuff in his hands.

“’S impractical. Soft, though. Bet it’s real pretty on you.”

A swell of embarrassment swoops through your belly. It’s automatic to bury your face in your hands. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“None o’ tha’, now.” Simon grasps both of your wrists in one large hand again and brings them down to your chest.    He makes you look at his face with a finger under your chin. “Won’t promise I’ll never make fun, but I won’t say I think you’ll look good if I’m no’ bein’ ‘onest. Promised, yeah?”

“Trust you to be honest,” you whisper, tipping your face back into his shoulder. “Acknowledged.”

“Good girl. Three deep breaths.”

You push all of the air from your lungs, the way your therapist taught you. When you inhale, you feel his chest rise with yours. He matches you when you hold, then release the breath in a steady stream. Where the back of your hand touches his chest, you can feel his heartbeat, solid and steady as he takes the next breath with you. By the third inhale, you let your spine relax as you feel him do the same.

“Know we never planned on meeting,” he eventually rumbles. He tips you back to look down at you, then ducks down for a quick kiss. “But I’m gonna be selfish and say I’m glad you’re ‘ere. If you don’t want nothin’ else, tonight, gettin’ to ‘old you is still everythin’ I ever could’ve wanted. Honest. Acknowledge.”

“This is good. We don’t have to do anything else, and it’ll still be good,” you whisper. “Acknowledged.” You lick your lips, prop yourself up to look into his eyes, then away. “What if… What if I want to do more?”

“One step at a time,” Simon chuckles.    “Stretches first. Then we’ll see about tha’ reward I promised you, yeah?”

He brings his mouth to yours again. Your hands are freed so that he can cup your jaw so tenderly that it threatens to melt your heart, even as it electrifies you down to your toes. When you moan into his lips, he echoes you, then pulls a way to press his lips to your cheek.

“Up, Bambi. Let’s get you to the bed.”

[lesbicosmos]

no thoughts, just palasaki and their height difference<33

(yeah i know there's not actually that much of a difference its just because of niko's boots but shhhh)

[myokk]

His lips brushed against hers when he spoke again. "Whatever it is, I can help you."

Eloise shivered at his proximity and leaned in a bit closer. Their lips were touching now, an approximation of a kiss, but neither of them moved to break it from its liminal meaning. Maybe if she breathed the words that she couldn't speak into his mouth, they would be swallowed whole by him. Maybe he could help her. Maybe putting them into reality somehow, not just allowing the events to remain some nebulous thing that was consuming her, could help.

"I..." the feeling of his lips brushing against hers as she tried to speak made her stomach clench in that strange way it had before, and all she wanted to do was lean into his embrace again. Eloise closed the distance again between them, her lips moving softly, sweetly against his as she whispered what she could not tell him about that weekend. She didn't know if he could understand her, but did it really matter?

She whispered everything she didn't have the words to articulate otherwise.

Sebastian tried pulling his head away, to better listen to her, perhaps, but Eloise chased his mouth with her own and before she knew it, he was as lost in the kiss as she was. It was...addicting, to be so close to him, to smell the faint cinnamon scent that always seemed to cling to his robes, to hear the small breaths coming from him - from her - as the kiss deepened. Eloise's wrapped her arms around Sebastian's neck, soon abandoning any words as she gave herself to him completely. She pressed herself tightly against him and his hands moved down to her waist, going up and down her back, causing her to shiver at the touch, grabbing at her and pulling her even closer but it wasn't enough. Sebastian's mouth broke away from hers and she whimpered in protest that soon turned into soft gasps as he started to kiss her jaw, her neck, going down as he slid her robe slightly off of her shoulder and kissed her collarbone.

It was as if his touch was sending jolts of pure magic through her body every time he made contact with her skin. Eloise hadn't known that anything could feel like this, so intimate, so lovely, as Sebastian's lips on her shoulder. But then, whispered softly, feverishly to her collarbone, lips brushing against her skin causing a shiver to run down her spine -

From chapter 25 of Before It Felt Like A Sin 🫶

[herstrayskies]

"I'll give you all that I am, so please, please..."

Noragami Chapter 108 - Yatogami

[botanybulbasaur]

fellas you ever consider that vertin can never have it all?? ever?? or even just like a little bit at all?? (chapter 1 + 2 + 3 spoilers)

like bro schnedier. schneider kisses her and then fuckin DIES. bro. one girlfriend off the books. she has to fucking go through therapy and that shit still haunts her dreams. oh lord.

and on top of that. there is so much unclosed shit between her and sonetto. do you guys remember that poem in chapter 3 about sonetto being the 'puppy' and how she cried when the stone wall shut between her and vertin?? yeah bro that shit haunts me. and how she?? she CRIED in the car when vertin was in danger?? shes so down. down horrendous. sonetto my baby

and if THAT isnt bad enough. lets say sonetto and vertin sort their shit out. italian cheek kiss or whatever. lets say schneider comes back to life. SONETTO ISNT OKAY WITH THAT. she was visibly and verbally jealous when schneider got close to vertin. even if vertin got her dead mf girlfriend back sonetto would either be hurt, disapproving, or both.

okay let's say everything is fine. let's say schneider is alive and vertin is ay-okay and sonetto is emotionally stable. WHAT ABOUT MATILDA?? she is not going to be okay either.

get me the FUCK OUT OF THE YURI SQUARE

Let me OUTUTTTT

[heatherfield]

♪ I don’t want you, but I need you. Don’t want to kiss you, but I need to… ♪ The heady notes of the music swirled around them, stoking the ache in Brom’s chest as he and Matilda drifted closer together. In some ways, he still felt like he was walking on thin glass, like he needed to be careful with every step in case he shattered this delicate new thing with Matilda—something that he was desperate not to mess up.

Walk Me Home: A "Headless" Fic, Chapter 14 [ read | watch ] ↳ art by @booigi-boi, commissioned by @ilikecrocssuckit – thank you!!

[kaelidascope]

Midnight Menagerie Chapter 11 - The Charity Event IS LIVE!!

**SHAKES SEXY OUTFIT BAG OF TREATS**

The highly anticipated New Year's Event of the year is HERE!! Midnight Menagerie Chapter 10 - The Charity Event is LIVE! We got drag, we got tricks! We got skinnydipping and we got FLUFF!

You know what comes after this, right. Hangover Chapter drops on December 14th - My favorite chapter in this entire series AND my birthday!! BOY I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR MONTHS I CAN'T WAIT TO SHARE IT WITH Y'ALL

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 14)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.7k words, pure fluff) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {LANCE FIRST WIN 🤯 aka fluff before crazy angst}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance got to the paddock with Nico, Racing Point having booked a different hotel than Renault so the Canadian had to wait until later to see his boyfriend.

"It's so fucking hot, I don't understand why they want us both to do media today. I'm gonna melt" The younger of the two complained, practically dragging his feet on the pavement as they walked towards the cameras.

"You'll be fine, Bubu, just rush them" Nico laughed, wrapping an arm around Lance as they reached the bundle of reporters, quickly bombarded with questions about both this weekends race and their personal lives.

Lance had grown to not mind media days, most of the questions either being about developments to the car or his and Fernandos relationship.

He could talk about how wonderfully him and the Spaniard got on for hours, it was almost embarrassing how his body language changed the second the older man was mentioned.

As he was walking away from the crowd of media personell he was stopped by a familliar voice, bright smile taking over his face as soon as he spoke

"Lancito!" Fernando called, walking a little faster to catch up to the boy in pink, arm draping over his shoulder as they walked closer to their garages, side-by-side on the grid.

"Hi, Nando" The teenager beamed, hearing the clicking of the cameras behind them "Sleep good?"

"Not at all" Fernando groaned, unable to wipe the smile off his face even as he complained "Would've been better if you weren't so far" He quickly added, shooting Lance a cheeky grin

The Canadian hit his shoulder, shaking his head at the mans comment "Dirty, dirty, old man!"

"Old??" The Spaniard scoffed, pulling away from Lance as they reached their garages "I'm hurt, mi vida, so hurt"

"Well, you can take it out on me on the track" Lance rolled his eyes, the two exchanging soft smiles before disappearing into their pink and blue garages, ready to prepare for quali.

As Lance drove back into the pit lane he had no idea what place he was in, some cars still trying to get in the fastest laps possible as he pulled himself out of his seat.

"You were quick out there, Lance, let's hope it paid off" Brad commented, already by Lance's side to take his helmet and balaclava

"Thanks, I'm feeling pretty confident in both the car and the track." Lance hummed, nodding to himself as he glanced around, seeing Giancarlo pull into the pits with Fernando close behind "Not sure what changed but it's a big improvement."

Lance and Fernando leaned against the wall between the two garages as they finished figuring out lap times and setting up the starting grid. Fernando found out his place first, having qualified 3rd because Felipe Massa was given a 5 second penalty for track limits.

Brad ran up to Lance next, practically yanking the boy away from the man in front of him as he began speaking quickly

"YOU'RE ON POLE, LANCE"

"What?" Lance furrowed his brows, unsure if Brad was saying what he heard him say

"POLE, P1." He confirmed "Your lap time in Q3 was 1.25.801, you're brilliant"

Lance smiled, pulling Brad into a tight hug once he realized he really had qualified on pole, it was insane, he out qualified Fernando for the first time ever and would be starting the Turkish Grand Prix from the front row, now all he had to do was pray for a podium finish as well.

As soon as Brad let go of him he was pulled away by Fernando, the Spaniard practically smothering the boy

"Joder!" The Spaniard started, hands cupping the Canadians face as he pulled back slightly to get a good look at him "Eres el mejor, mi vida"

Lance laughed, jaw hurting from how hard he'd been smiling, the Spaniards praise not helping

"Are you ready to look up to me on that top step?" Lance asked, unsure if he really believed that would be the outcome of the race

"Am so ready," Fernando smiled, praying nothing would go wrong in the next days race "Cannot wait, Lancito"

Lance was in a good mood as soon as he got the paddock the next day, being asked how he felt about starting the race on pole really made it feel real.

"How are you feeling today, Lance? Nervous to have Michael Schumacher and Fernando Alonso so close behind you?"

"I feel fine, if i can out qualify them it shouldn't be hard to beat them today" He said sinply, not sure if he believed his own words.

As he made his way to his garage he was greeted by Nico, who was starting 10th but still managed to be excited for his friend and teammate.

"Welcome, race winner" He beamed, dorky grin on his face as his hands fell on the younger boys shoulders

"Don't jinx me, you saukerl!" Lance laughed, pushing Nico slightly

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Lance?" The German gasped, covering Lance's lips with his hand, the two insanely close "Who taught you that word?"

The boy tried to respond, his words coming out mumbled in the Germans hand

"Oh, right" Nico laughed, moving his hand so he could undersfand Lance

"The Schumachers say it a lot"

"Well they're adults! You're just a säugling" Nico cooed, moving his hands to Lances cheeks to tease him

"Fuck off" He groaned, turning his face away. He knew whatever Nico said was making fun of him but he couldn't help but smile at the funny sounding word.

Nico and Lance stood to the side of the grid as their engineers swarmed the teammates cars, Lance back at p10 to talk with the man before the race started.

It was hot, the boys overheating in their pink race suits. Nico unscrewed the lid of his waterbottle, shoving it into the Canadians hand as he poured water on himself then Lance, the contrast in temperatures feeling heavenly.

Lance set down the lid, both of their hands combing through their hair at the same time. Lance's was darker and a little longer but the two had grown more popular because of their long hair, fans saying it made up for their poor performance that season.

He gripped the wheel, it was weird looking ahead and seeing no ones rear, he hoped to keep it that way but he couldn't help but miss recognizing people and waving at his acquaintances in the midfield as they awaited the start.

His heart almost stopped as the red lights ahead of him turned off, pushing hard right away.

He got away brilliantly, Brad radioing in to praise him for his start as soon as it'd happened. He was sure Fernando fighting Michael for 2nd and Giancarlos spin on turn 1 helped him a good amount.

"What Mclaren is in the wall?" Lance asked a lap later, Brad having told him earlier that there was now over a 1.8 second gap between him and Michael who was battling Fernando for 2nd.

"That's Kimi. He's all good but theres a yellow flag"

The next 11 laps went on fine, now under a green flag he'd lengthened the gap to 2.3, very pleased with himself and he could tell Brad was too.

His hopes were just getting higher until a safety car was called out, Vitantonio having spun and stopped in the middle of the track.

"Pit now, Lance. Safety car. Pit now."

"Coming" He responded, entering the pit lane with Michael and Fernando following behind him. "This is so scary I'm gonna piss myself, Brad."

"Not in the car, Lance."

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled out, watching in his mirrors as Fernando made it out ahead of Michael, now in p2 right behind him.

The rest of the race was fairly comfortable, Michael took the lead from lap 40-43 but Lance got it back soon after which earned him some cheers from Brad.

"Insane work there, Lance. Fucking insane."

"I think I'm gonna fucking explode, Man" Lance said, voice high pitched as he tried his hardest to rebuild the gap he'd lost

He made up a 1.2 second gap as the last lap started, Fernando visibly fighting to keep 2nd and just barely making it as they crossed the line.

"AND LANCE STROLL WINS THE TURKISH GRAND PRIX AND IS NOW A FORMULA ONE RACE WINNER" The racea commentator roars, the crowd screaming as Lance's hands shook on his steering wheel, breathing heavily as he struggled to come to terms with this being real.

"LANCE STROLL YOU ARE A RACE WINNER" Brad screamed over the radio, all of the Racing Point staff audibly cheering which just further confirmed that he really just did it.

"YES. Thank you, thank you guys this means so much I owe you all the world."

Fernandos engineer radioed in, the Spaniard barely registering his words

"That's p2, Fernando, 1.2 behind Lance and 0.0 ahead of Michael. Terrific job."

"Lance? Lance won?" Fernando spoke loudly, the smile on his face audible even through the shitty audio quality

"Yes, p1 for the first time, you proud of your friend?"

"So proud." He muttered before turning off his radio, in awe at the news and now more ready than ever to park his car and greet the race winner.

As soon as Fernandos car stopped he exited his car faster than he ever had, running to the Canadian and pulling him into a hug.

"Lance, fuck, te quiero mucho mi vida." Fernando said breathlessly, hands on either side of the boys helmet as he pulled away to look at him, so insanely proud of his lover.

"Told you I was gonna beat you." Lance laughed, eyes practically closed with how wide he was smiling.

Michael came over, helmet and balaclava already off as he patted the rookie on his back "Great work, Stroll."

"Thank you!" The boy nodded, moving away from Fernando to look at Michael as they spoke. Crazy. THE Michael Schumacher was congratulating HIM.

Lance stood on the top step of the podium, Canadian anthem coming to an end before he was absolutely waterboarded with champagne from either side, covering his face as he was soaked.

It felt amazing. The top step. The sun. The cheers from the crowd. The Spaniard beside him. It couldn't have been a more perfect race.

[johnslittlespoon]

dog coded bucky fic update btw <3

[definitelynotshouting]

in case you're wondering how its going rn

[domo-arts]

Blorbotober day 15: kishiar la Orr from turning 😌 quick scrib for today because I am tired LOL

[silver-dragonborn]

I'll do you one better. The hate Alicent Stans will harbor for Aemond for DARING to question his mother's loyalty will morph into multi-chapter fanfic of Alicent waking up back in time, abandoning her "ungrateful ass" silver-haired spawn that she SUFFERED to bring into this world to run away from Westeros and live a life of luxury in Essos with some random male oc who was specifically created to cater to Alicent's every whim and has a Henry Cavill Witcher face claim because of course she needs to pop out more silver-haired babies that are far more prettier and perfect than her ungrateful ass kids who were so MEAN to her. Tags will include "Alicent gets her groove back," "Alicent says fuck it and leaves Westeros," "Alicent leaves her toxic ass children and husband to be with her boy toy in Essos," "Rhaenyra Bashing," "Daemon Bashing," "Team Black Bashing," "Some bashing for Aemond because he's so UNGRATEFUL," "Alicent Gone Girls herself," "Alicent is Sansa Stark's ancestor," "Alicent hatches dragon eggs," "Alicent is the Mother of Dragons," "TEAM GREEN SYMPATHIZER!!!!"

[koifishscribbles]

Do you want to read a slow burn so slow that it takes 60k before Satosugu kiss?!?!

Well, might I introduce you to my fanfic I’m Sorry: In Various Translations by koifishscribbles on ao3

The premise:

Gojo Satoru has not seen his ex, Getou Suguru, since college. Until he shows up one day teaching in the classroom across the hall from him.

A sample from chapter eight:

At first it’s warm and wet like a spent cigarette filter brushing up against him, chemical relief pulsing through him. Then Satoru drags his hands free from their self imposed sentence in his hair, traveling down the length of his jaw. A finger brushing up against his cheek like a dandelion, Suguru leans into it with a wish.

One moment, Suguru was leaning against a display case, staring at precious, treasured artifacts— something ancient and so much bigger than him. His nose pressed against the glass and a deep yearning in his gut to break it. Smash it, and feel the shards against his skin. Now the glass has disappeared, and he’s toppled over into another world. He’s free falling, and the sinking feeling in his chest that once terrified him is so freeing.

His hands find purchase on the top’s of Satoru’s thighs somehow making his brain swirl more and helping him balance in a beautiful antithesis. Satoru’s mouth parts and the nib of his tongue flourishes across the apex of his bottom lip in a foreign cursive he understands perfectly.

[greenthena]

Shamelessly plugging my old fic...

The Trojan Horse Virus

Aziraphale owns a bookshop in Soho. Crowley leases the space next door for his nursery. And their first impressions are not exactly positive. But when Crowley needs someone to pretend to be his fiance, who better than the bastard next door who already dislikes him? No feelings to mess things up means no problems, right? Right?