#this man is the just what I need to cure what ails me

[lord-aldhelm]

So,

You all know how Uhtred has like, a death dick? Leaving a path of destruction behind him. Well I imagine Aldhelm is the opposite. He has a magical dick that can heal you. Cures any illness, brings eyesight to the blind, all that...

*runs away*

[underdark-dreams]

Fellow Rolan lovers forgive me 👀 I have no idea where this came from. I just encountered Harper Geraldus in Act 3 again in my playthrough last night, and my brain said, that boy needs to get [redacted]

Harper Geraldus x afab!OC (unnamed, description kept vague)

Wet Behind the Ears

"What would you like, Geraldus? You can tell me." Harper Geraldus has had a very bad, terrible, absolutely no-good week. His superiors decide he needs a night at the Sharess's Caress to cure what ails him.

Tags: Size Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Face Sitting, Explicit | afab!OC

Word Count: 5.6k [Read on AO3]

No sooner had she stepped from the bathwater did the door to her chambers swing open.

“Hope you’re not headed to bed,” called a sing-song voice.

She wrapped a towel around her wet middle just as Irenya flounced brazenly past the wooden screen beside her bath. Privacy was a rare luxury in Sharess’s Caress, but her workday was well over—she’d earned the right to a bit of it.

“Do come in,” she drawled. 

The elf only gave her a coy smile as she toyed with the laces of her tiny bodice. Even for a courtesan, Irenya wore as little as she could get away with. And the bar downstairs owed her half its profits for it.

“Good, you’re up. Mamzell’s got another client for you.”

“At this hour?” A bit of impatience crept into her voice; it was far past midnight. Whoever they were, they’d better be paying well. “Don’t suppose they’d prefer one of our lovely drow.”  

“You know that’s not how this works,” Irenya laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mamzell handpicked you. Said you’ll be his type.” 

That meant he was either quite green, or quite reserved—she knew her niche well. She busied herself with toweling off and wondered which. “Patriar?”

“Harper,” answered Irenya.

That did stir a mild curiosity. Harpers were even rarer than Guild members on the upper floors of this place, and that was saying something. Folk who dealt in secrecy and under-dealings were strongly discouraged from visiting pleasure houses—though she knew from personal experience that they didn’t always listen to orders. 

And why should they? Sharess’s Caress kept secrets better than any of them put together. But unlike the Guild or the Zhent, most Harpers weren’t known to have pockets deep enough for after-hours trysts. 

“If this is another favor for Entharl Danthelon,” she warned, cinching a gauze robe around her waist. “I swear, Amira turns into a giggling maid around that bloke. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added swiftly.

Thankfully, Irenya didn’t seem to hear. She took an eager step closer. “Just wait till you see, you might have fun with this one. He’s so pretty,” Irenya groaned, biting her lip in the way that earned all that coin.

Pretty or not, her body yearned only for her empty bed. But telling Irenya that would ensure it got back to Mamzell Amira, and the house mother’s patience had its limits. She put on a practiced smile instead.

“Then kindly shoo,” she told Irenya. “And send the pretty man up.”

As the door swung shut behind the elf—who was no doubt headed for a good night’s sleep, unlike herself—she heaved a sigh and moved to prepare her room for clientele. A second goblet on the tray; a pass over the covers and pillows to ensure they looked fresh and unslept in. She shook her hair down from its clasp, glancing in the mirror by the bath to smooth it. Then she perched herself on the edge of the mattress and arranged her robe to show a sliver of leg. Just enough to catch the eye. 

If this Harper was openly visiting the Caress, he must have done something very impressive worth rewarding. Or else survived something awful enough to warrant a professional distraction.

Gods, let it not be the latter. She’d comforted her share of men and women who only wanted to be held while they cried, but tonight, the prospect made her groan. A tumble in the sheets would be far less work on her part, and the customer usually left just as satisfied in the end.

A soft tap at the door broke her reverie. 

Her brow furrowed for a moment—knocks were rare. “Come in,” she called.

When the youth stepped slowly into her room, it was immediately apparent why he hadn’t just opened the door like any other patron would.

Irenya hadn’t lied—he was certainly pretty. But gods, he was young. Couldn’t be older than twenty or so, with an angular jaw and wide hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes the same color as the hair curling just past his shoulders. He had the look of a fawn who’d just stumbled into the middle of civilization.

She watched his large eyes quickly take in the room. When they fell on her where she sat, the blush that traveled up his face was noticeable even in candlelight.

Her mind switched tack at once. She rose to her bare feet, wearing her friendliest and least wanton smile. 

“Please,” she invited, drawing an arm out to welcome him in. 

His eyes flicked down her figure once, then settled firmly up on her face. “Thank you,” he managed, and strode briskly into the room as if afraid she might rescind the offer. 

It took only a few seconds to size him up. His leather jerkin was well-worn but clean, same as his boots. He was tall and fit, yet he moved with more of a cautious ranger’s gait than that of a soldier or swordsman. Perhaps that was just down to nerves. As she watched him close the door, she noticed his pale fingers fidget and shake on the latch slightly.  

Few of his age and apparent rank could afford this place, particularly by special appointment. Someone must be very fond of this young man.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, filling the inevitable silence before it could form. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got something excellent from Amn.”

She turned away to uncork the bottle and give him a chance to look around. In truth, this was a vintage she’d been saving for a quiet moment alone tonight—but it would taste just as fine with company. As she filled both cups, she could hear him shifting on his feet behind her.

“Thank you,” he repeated again as she turned back. His voice was a gentle tenor, and there was a nervous tremble on the first word. 

“So.” She offered the wine out to him—he was careful not to touch her fingers as he accepted it. “What shall I call you?”

“Geraldus,” he blurted out. Clearly not taking up her veiled offer to give a pseudonym. When his doelike eyes finally met hers again, they were unsure. “Can—could I ask your name?”

She gave him another easy smile and replied with the usual. Not returning his honesty—but when did she ever?

“Very nice to meet you.” And young Geraldus actually dipped his head in a little bow to her. Oh, she would have this one fast asleep in half an hour.

“What a gentleman,” she laughed, finding herself harmlessly charmed by the gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine. Seat?” 

She sank back down on the edge of the bed while leaving plenty of space for a gap. For a moment Geraldus froze, and she was afraid she’d broken him. Then he followed suit wordlessly, wine in hand, and took a seat on the very far corner of the mattress.

Really should bother Amira for some chairs, she noted to herself. Then again, most of the clientele didn’t mind beds as much as Geraldus apparently did.

At least he was drinking. It would help him forget his nerves, and she was pleased to see Geraldus take a long drought as his eyes roamed across the room again over the edge of his cup.

She took a savoring sip. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s sweet,” he agreed in surprise. “It doesn’t burn like—” He caught himself, looking sheepishly at her. “That is, it’s better than the wine back home.”

“Where’s home for you, Geraldus?” She tried and failed to imagine such a gentle soul growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Nowhere special,” he said, looking down to swirl the liquid in his cup. “Just a little village in the Greenfields.”

“Ah—” She half-reclined with an elbow on the mattress, and felt a grin rise to her face in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s firmly ale country. Damn good ale, though.”

Geraldus’s face finally relaxed. “You’re from Greenfields too?”

“Just lived there for a while. Long enough to miss it after a few years in the Gate. Let me guess, was your family in barley or sheep?”

“Sheep,” he laughed, and she admired how handsome he was with a touch more confidence. “On rainy days I can still smell the wool.”

“You think sheep are bad? Try pigs.” She cocked a brow at him and took another drink.

Geraldus looked at her as though trying to tell whether she was joking. “There’s no way someone like you has mucked out a pig stall.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a lady,” he protested, as if that ended the discussion. “You drink Amnian wine, you smell like lavender—” Geraldus straightened up slightly, looking as though he'd given too much away. 

She found she enjoyed his guilelessness. She had no regrets about the comforts this life afforded her, but ‘lady’ was a stretch. Still, manners were always appreciated.

“How else do you think I paid my way here?” She teased him. “Selling my best sows set me up quite nicely my first year in Wrym’s Crossing.”

The subjects of life in the country compared to life in Baldur’s Gate took them far. She refilled their wine twice, eventually just leaving the bottle within arm’s reach on the floor. Geraldus had relaxed enough to mirror her pose and lean back on his elbow; she brought her feet up on the bed to curl into a comfortable shape beside him.

Perhaps sleepiness and the wine were going to her own head…but Geraldus looked prettier by the minute. She watched the rose-petal curve under his lower lip as he spoke, not catching what he was saying. His eyes were more of a pale green than the hazel gold she’d taken them for at first. Or maybe that was just a trick of the candlelight?

As she pondered, she realized that he had grown silent and was watching her face in turn. She'd angled herself closer to him involuntarily while he spoke. They were close enough she could hear the shallow note of his breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” She requested, breaking the quiet. Geraldus nodded.

“Why exactly did you come here tonight? You’re not the usual type,” she added, and touched her fingers to his free hand in an attempt to soften the observation.

“Oh.” Geraldus fiddled with the neck of the wine glass in his hand. “It wasn’t really my idea. Not that—this is nice,” he said in a rush, and she felt his fingers twining up through hers on the bedspread. “Not like I expected.”

She cocked her head. “Did you expect me to eat you up?” Not a bad idea, she thought, glancing over the lines of his body under his jerkin.

“No!” He blurted out in surprise. “Maybe? I don’t know…it just happened so fast. Entharl pushed me out the doors before I knew where I was. Said I was too gloomy for usual company,” he added, looking down at his boots. 

So that confirmed her earlier suspicions. Harpers may be discreet, but it was hard to miss things when you worked down the street from what was almost certainly one of their safehouses. Which meant poor Geraldus must have been sent here tonight for comforting as much as pleasuring.

“Have you had a bad day?” She asked gently.

His large eyes met hers with a long look. For a moment, he almost seemed close to tears. “Bad week,” he answered.

She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Vehemently, he shook his head at her.

“What would you like to do then, Geraldus? You can tell me.”

“I don't know…I’m not sure.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?”

In answer, she took the wine glass from his hand and set it at the foot of the bed beside her own. Then she reclined parallel to him, tilting her face up in an open offer.

Without another word, he leaned down to press his lips to hers. He trembled slightly against her, whether from nerves or from a more sober emotion she couldn’t tell. She brought a hand up to his hair regardless, smoothing and tucking the dark waves back behind one lightly pointed ear.

Their lips slid together softly like that for a long moment. Eventually she felt Geraldus relaxing against her mouth. But his frame still hovered over her, as if he wasn’t sure where to put his weight.

Without breaking the kiss, she guided his far arm to her side. Though she’d placed it there herself, the feel of his large palm pressing against her waist stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. She clasped both hands behind his neck, encouraging him to lean down further over her while they kissed.

When he left his lips parted for a few seconds, she took the chance to gently touch her tongue to his. Geraldus made a soft, eager sound against her, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. His mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of rich Amnian wine.

While kissing him was lovely, she was increasingly curious to know how else she might take this poor boy’s mind off his apparent troubles. When she pulled away, Geraldus’s face trailed after hers as though reluctant to end the kiss.

“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, darling?”

Geraldus blinked down at her, perhaps thrown by the pet name. “Where else is there?”

It brought a laugh from her, and she curled her fingers through the dark locks behind his neck. “You really don’t know how this works, do you.”

His eyes widened with a nervousness that only confirmed her suspicions. 

“I've been with a woman before,” he answered defensively. 

“Oh?” She continued petting his hair, keeping her tone light and unteasing. “Have you been kissed other places, then? By men or women?”

From there, it was easy to suss out the exact limits of his experience. It came as no shock that no one had ever put their lips anywhere but his mouth. Not his neck, his chest, his cock—that last fact she withheld her kisses from him until he admitted, flushing profusely right up to his dark hair all the while. 

She found herself speaking more plainly than usual. “Geraldus, first I’d like to help you out of these clothes. Then I’d like to suck you off before I ride you. How does that sound?”

That had most certainly broken him. He stammered and blushed somehow darker; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his face above hers.

Finally, he managed a breathless response of “yes, please.”

She drew his lips in against hers again as she went to work. She felt him reach a hand to the buckles under his side, but she was already springing them open on both right and left.

“How do you know—” He began, impressed, before quieting as the realization hit him. She slid the leather pieces up over his head and leaned in to give him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. When his linen tunic followed, she kept him held back for a moment with a hand splayed over his sternum.

Gods damn, but they grew them right back in Greenfields. 

Geraldus was broad-shouldered and lean, with firm bands of muscle beneath the pale skin of his arms and chest and stomach. From the sinews in his forearms and the strong cut of his shoulders, she guessed he handled a longbow quite often.

As her eyes raked over him with open appreciation, she caught sight of a shining scar across his left side. Young he may be, but his body already bore evidence of his chosen profession. She reached to brush down the line of it with her fingers; Geraldus shivered but tilted slightly into her hand.

“Didn’t get that shepherding,” she observed.

“No,” Geraldus agreed. He licked his lips again—the gesture was much more intriguing combined with shirtlessness. She hooked her thumbs over the waist of his pants in suggestion.

“Wait,” he requested, his gentle voice trembling again. She watched his eyes moving over the curves under her thin robe. “Can I?”

She leaned back and stretched her arms up over the pillows, arching her back in invitation. 

Slowly and deliberately, as if unwrapping an expensive gift, his fingers reached for the tie at her waist. She watched with satisfaction as he drew the garment open to each side to expose the bare length of her body. His lips parted in admiration as he took her in.

“Can I touch you?” Geraldus asked in a whisper.

“Anywhere you like,” she assured him.

To her delight, Geraldus fell over her and began eagerly exploring her chest with his lips. When his hot mouth closed over the hard peak of one breast, she hummed in approval and ran her nails up through his long hair. It seemed to encourage him; his calloused palm moved to cup the other.

“Tonight’s for you, darling,” she reminded him lazily, not really in a hurry to interrupt him.

He responded between hungry swirls of his tongue. “I’d kiss you here if you’d let me,” he said, and his hand actually slid from her breast to land boldly above the apex of her thighs.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed against his brow. “Gods, you’re unbelievable—how dare those Harpers keep you hidden away so long? Sure you don’t have a little sweetheart in Rivington?”

“Of course not—” There was a wet sound as he released her breast to stare up at her, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t be here if—if I was—”

She clasped his jaw in a hand to kiss him again, drowning out whatever earnest response he was trying to make to her teasing. “If you’re very, very good tonight, I’ll sit on your pretty face. How about that?”

“Gods,” he groaned, and that pretty face landed between her breasts. “Would you?”

She looked down at him quizzically. “You honestly want to, don’t you?”

His cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes,” he admitted.

“As long as you’re a good boy, then,” she told him. With a firm shove, she sent him sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed. “Now take off your pants, Geraldus.”

He scrambled to obey, kicking off his boots before his fingers fumbled at the laces of his trousers. She lay back and watched him with genuine anticipation. From the size of the tent straining at his front, she already suspected that the gods had given to him with both hands.

And what a delightful bit of justice in a harsh world—for young Harper Geraldus to be blessed with such a big cock.

His impressive length stood stiff at attention, skin a lovely smooth pink—and the size of him. Not the biggest she'd had, but much closer than his blushing shyness had led her to believe.

She crooked one finger at him where he stood in a come-hither motion. He crawled up the bed eagerly, but she shifted away to the side at the last minute. “On your back,” she directed him. 

Geraldus obeyed again, his tall frame collapsing into the pillows as he watched her shuck the robe all the way back off her shoulders. She curled up into his side, tracing a finger down the firm, fair planes of his chest and stomach. He shivered under her touch.

Then her fingers closed gently around his base—barely fitting a third of his length in her grip. She pumped him a few slow times from base to tip. It would require most of her creativity to take him, either with her mouth or her cunt.

But if anyone deserved both, it was the young man currently squirming and whining in her bed. She could tell Geraldus was struggling to quell the instinct to thrust up faster into her grip. No doubt trying to be good enough to earn what she’d promised, judging by the way his wide eyes were fixed in anticipation on her face. She clenched her thighs together at the thought of having his eager mouth between them.

“I can see why no one’s put lips to your cock before,” she mused, enjoying the way his dark brows screwed up just from the unhurried strokes of her hand.

“W-why?” His tenor had shot up to a strained pitch. She loosened her grasp completely—it would be too easy to finish him like that.

“You’ve got enough to choke on,” she told him, and climbed between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’m quite good at this.”

Before he could clear his expression from its jumbled mixture of shock and hope, she leaned to take his tip softly over her tongue.

His body made a sharp jackknife at the waist, and Geraldus let out a word much filthier than she expected. But she was ready for his physical reaction—the weight of her forearms on his hips kept them firmly planted into the mattress.

She slid her mouth over him, relaxing her jaw to take him all the way to the back of her throat before releasing everything but the very tip of his cock. She continued the motion several times until saliva trickled down the rest of his length. Then she returned her hand to his base, twisting her grip to meet her lips with each motion.  

She took him just like that, giving attention to his full length, relishing the way his smooth tip bumped the back of her throat with each thrust. He whimpered and begged incoherently above her at the sensations of her mouth and hand taking him in tandem. Could he already be as close as he sounded?

Just as the thought occurred, she felt his legs tense on either side of her own. Almost disappointed, she instantly slid her mouth off him with a wet kiss of release. 

Geraldus made a sound like a sob at the absence. When she glanced up, there were actual tears pricking at the corners of his dark eyelashes.

“Dearest,” she murmured up to him. It was far too tempting to apologize to that face; she placed nipping kisses along his thighs instead. “You deserve to feel my cunt first, don't you think?”

“Yes,” he groaned, obviously trying to master the strain in his voice. It suddenly seemed like a very good time to reward his patience.

“Be a good boy and slide down,” she urged him, already moving up around his straining erection on her knees to straddle his waist.

That brought a spark of hope to his eyes. Geraldus frantically gripped her torso for leverage, tugging her bodily up the bedcovers as he somehow nudged each of his broad shoulders through the gap in her legs. As he settled her above him, he stared up at the slick view between her thighs like a penitent.

“Smack me twice if you can’t breathe,” she told him, giving his dark locks a teasing pull to try and get his attention. The way he nodded left her unconvinced he’d heard.

Deciding he looked ready enough, she lowered herself firmly over his waiting mouth.

For all his obvious inexperience, the instant heat and enthusiasm of his tongue was a pleasant start. Her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction as he painted firm strokes up her folds, just barely reaching her peak.

“Good,” she praised with a sigh. “Higher—”

He listened attentively despite wearing her thighs clasped around the delicate points of his ears. His hands rose to her hips as he angled his mouth higher, finally hitting the spot where she needed him most. Her toes curled where they were pressed over his biceps.

He was completely unpracticed, but he had good enough instincts to keep the pace steady as she rocked herself against his face. She imagined his hips bucking uselessly into the air behind her, desperate to wet his neglected cock in the folds his tongue was parting.

“Pretty Geraldus,” she sighed, her hand a fist in his dark hair, trying to keep her wits about her as she felt a twitching climax build at her core. “Shall I come on your tongue?”

His eyes flew wide between her legs. In answer, strong forearms gripped tighter over each of her thighs, holding her down onto the now-frantic lapping of his tongue over her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back against him, giving way to the heat of his mouth desperately sucking and licking her closer to the edge.

With one last tug on his hair, she shuddered against him and rode out her orgasm over his tongue. She felt a gush of arousal from her center flow out over his lips. Geraldus moaned something against her flesh, but the words dissolved into a hum that ran straight to her core and reverberated as another shiver of pleasure up her spine.    

With effort, she pushed herself back to sit on his chest, freeing his arms. Geraldus gasped for air slightly, but his expression was drunk with pleasure and a bit of pride. His mouth and chin were painted wet with her arousal.

“Such a good boy,” she purred in praise. “Getting me ready to take that big cock of yours—” Before he could respond, she reached to swipe her thumb along the wet line of his jaw, then nudged at the juncture of his lips.

He understood immediately, obediently sucking her finger into his mouth and cleaning her release off with his tongue. She felt his hips rocking involuntarily behind her.

With a smooth shift of her weight, she landed with her bare chest pressed to his and pushed her wet slit back against the top of his cock.

“Oh,” Geraldus whined above her, and his beautiful eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. She continued slicking her folds up and down his length to wet him, all the while watching the way his face screwed up as if pained. His fingers flew to grip around hers where they lay over his ribs. 

It was difficult enough to line up her opening with his cock from this angle—let alone while having both hands held hostage under his own. Using his firm stomach as leverage, she pushed up to straddle him against her and then sank down. It seated the tip of him perfectly inside her. 

Just that first stretch was delicious. Geraldus seemed to feel the same; his hands released hers, instead landing on her hips with an enthusiastic squeeze. But he panted obediently under her, eyelids still shut tight, waiting for her to take him further.

Little by little, she eased herself down onto each inch of him, her jaw falling slack as he stretched her walls to their limit. Finally her hips landed to slot against his own. 

She stayed there for a moment, relishing the utter fullness of having his cock entirely buried within her. The ache at her opening was slowly tipping from a twinge of pain to a throb of pleasure.

But she wouldn’t be able to ride him from this angle. Instead, she leaned forward to grasp his strong shoulders and braced her arms straight against them. “Geraldus, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open then, and landed on her face where it hovered above his. She took in his parted lips, the aquiline line of his nose, the youthful smoothness of his brow marred by a pleading wrinkle as he waited for her to move. And his expressive eyes, which she now decided with certainty were a pretty shade of hazel—currently traveling over her face as if trying to read her thoughts. 

“You are the loveliest man,” she told him with utter sincerity. And I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my cunt.

With his eyes still on her, she slid her hips up and back down over his length. A guttural, breathy sound rose straight from his chest. She continued working him in and out of her tight wetness, finding a slow but steady pace that was just barely past the edge of teasing for both of them.

“Oh, Gods—” His hands spasmed against her hips, as if he wanted to bounce her faster on him but wasn’t sure whether it was permitted.

She took the cue herself. She ground her hips into his at a more brisk clip—and bit her lip hard at the sensation of his tip knocking deep inside her with each thrust. At this angle and pace, he filled her to the point of incoherence.

After being taken up to the edge of release by her mouth, she could tell Geraldus was already close again. When her fingers brushed up over his hard nipples, he let out a shuddering whine of pleasure. His hard length twitched against her walls.

At once, she slowed to grind her hips into him, relishing the pressure of his hard cock filling her so fully. He panted at yet another denial, and she felt his calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Geraldus gazed up at her with a plea for more.

“Have you been good enough to come in me?” She studied his face unhurried, admiring the way his fair brow screwed up in anguish and pleasure at the question. “What do you think, darling?”

“Yes,” he begged, too sweet to know he was strong enough to fuck her at whatever pace he wanted, even from this angle. “Please, yes, I have—”

She splayed her fingers across his chest, rocking herself deeper atop him. “Ask me for it.”

“Please,” he whined prettily, his eyes shining with tears again. “Please, please, I’ve been good, I swear—Gods, let me come inside you, please—”

He was so earnest, so beyond desperate, it would be unthinkably cruel to deny him. She leaned both hands back on his thighs and rode him hard, using the angle to drive his cock into her center again and again. Stars swelled across her vision; each thrust sent his considerable length pounding against the limits of her insides. She closed her eyes against another rush of pleasure to her core, listening to the sweet way Geraldus whimpered her name.

Large palms pressed hard against her lower back—the angle of him shifted inside her as he leaned up to muffle his sounds into the skin of her breast. Then his arms and legs shuddered as he released inside her, spilling and twitching against her walls. She rode him out through it, as best she could with the way he clutched her to him, wanting him to feel every last scrap of pleasure.

Her own climax hit her like the snap of a bowstring. She found her arms clenching around his shoulders for balance, as if she might tumble away on the wave that rushed through her body. 

Geraldus supported her firmly, sweet thing that he was, holding her tight despite the way his own limbs trembled.

After a while of him holding her straddled on his lap, the pressure between her legs turned to an ache. She stifled a wince as she shifted to slide off him. Even his softening length was a stretch for her tender and likely now bruised insides. She chided herself for riding him so enthusiastically before—she knew better than that. 

As she began to pull away further, Geraldus clutched his arms tight around her back.

“We just need a towel,” she explained, turning to kiss the tip of his ear. “Did you think I was leaving?”

“No,” he lied, growing sheepish again, but his arms loosened to let her up.

She returned with a soft cloth for each of them. He reached for one, but she knelt beside the bed to neatly clean him. Even now, he was still too green to grasp exactly how this all worked.

And the mess between her own legs could wait; by now his release had already dripped out of her to generously coat her thighs.

Once they were both tidy, she rose to her feet and smoothed back a stray lock of his hair. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

Geraldus shook his head, looking up at her with sleepy affection.

“Would you like to go to bed, then?”

His eyes filled with innocent delight. “I can stay?”

She considered telling him that after the sum his keepers had no doubt paid, he could do a great many more things with her. But it might be nice to surprise him with that in the morning. 

Instead, she raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face up for a soft kiss. “Of course, darling.”

She moved on rather unsteady legs to snuff all the candles, then helped guide him under the covers through the dark. 

When it came to sleeping, she didn’t usually care to share her bed with others. Tonight she found herself in an unusually generous mood. Geraldus was long-limbed and full of wiry muscle, yet every bit as gentle as a lamb. 

As she settled herself under the blankets, he notched his face up against her shoulder and rested an arm securely across her middle. She leaned her cheek against his dark hair like a pillow. The feel of being weighed down by his body against her side was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

“I love you,” Geraldus abruptly sighed against her neck.

She let out a sleepy breath of laughter that ruffled the locks of his hair. 

“No you don’t,” she told him gently, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You just really, really needed that.”

[wheredafandomat]

Based on this ask that I accidentally lost 😭

@lulubelle814 I hope you enjoy it!!

Meant to be

Loki x female reader

18+ | TW: Infertility and problems associated with that including miscarriage, smut, use of drugs, alcohol

❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Loki, Loki” you shake him awake trying to stop the trembling as your vision blurred “wake up, I need-I need to go to a hospital” you stuttered, Loki’s eyes flying open as he heard you.

“Y/n?” He questioned, cupping your face as he searched your expression in the dark room “what’s the matter?” He began, eyes widening as he noticed the crimson soaking into the sheets.

“I feel faint and I’m not due on” you tried to rationalise, not wanting to alarm Loki and trying to calm yourself down too.

“I’ll drive” he quickly stood up, flinging the duvet off of himself.

Loki helped you into the car before you both rushed to the hospital. You had been feeling abdominal pain for the past couple of days and you felt incredibly ill but you put it down to stress. Only now as Loki held your hand, frantically driving that you realised this was actually a lot more serious. When you made it to the hosptial, you were seen quickly.

“I wish I had known” you sniffled “if only I had known, I could have pretended, just for a while that we—we were going to be parents” you continued to cry as Loki rubbed soothing circles on your back, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I was a mother Loki and now—now I—” you sobbed, wanting the day to end as Loki bit back his own mournful tears. And just like that, another getaway, another attempt at normalcy.

It had been just over a month since you were at the hospital and already, you and Loki had spent all your weekends abroad, trying to have sex in as many different European countries as you could. Each country offered its own culture, its own fond memories and its own way of spicing up your sex life whether that was with aphrodisiacs or guided meditations. This weekend, you found yourselves in Amsterdam, a hotel overlooking a nearby canal as you each held a mushroom in your hand. It was on your way to get food that you stopped at a shop and picked the mushrooms up after an elderly lady working in the shop said that the mushrooms cured all that ails you. Turning towards each other, you smiled before eating them.

“When do they kick in?” Loki asked, wriggling his fingers as he held his hand in front of his face.

“Considering the fact that you’ve been staring at your hand for the past ten minutes, I think they already have” you answered, looking at him.

“Oh” he voiced, looking up at you “do they work?”

“Is your hair getting longer?” You questioned, squinting as you looked at Loki.

“Is yours getting shorter?” He replied, pointing at your hair before you stood up, making your way to the mirror.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, Loki following behind you as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Norns!” Loki gasped, his hair long as he took in his appearance.

“Is this—do I have stubble?” You panicked, touching your face only it didn’t seem like your face. “Oh my god!” You yelped again as you felt an unfamiliar weight between your legs. Running your hand down your body, you almost passed out as you realised “I—I’m a man! Look Loki, look, I’ve got a—” you began to laugh, pulling your trousers down.

“Y/n, I fear I may have lost my—” Loki began before you interrupted, thrusting your hips.

“It’s so heavy” you chuckled.

“What on Midgard did we take?” Loki asked, his voice high.

“Who cares, the effects will probably wear off as the mushrooms do” you shrugged.

“Sooo, are you saying we should enjoy them whilst they last?” Loki grinned.

“Yes, besides, you do look irresistible as a woman. Very sexy” you purred, causing Loki to smile. “Your hair, your skin, I’m going to enjoy this” you smirked, your hand moving between Loki’s legs.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Loki giggled, seemingly uncomfortable by how much you were enjoying this more feminine version of himself.

“No” you answered with the same giggle.

Both sated, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your bodies as well as the aroma of sex lingering around the room, you rested your head against Loki’s chest as you took a deep breath.

“Thank you for this Loki” you murmured, kissing his chest.

“For what?” He queried.

“Taking us away, making me feel better, I’ve enjoyed it” you smiled. Sitting up a little, Loki kissed the top of your head before noting your hair growing again.

“Your hair” he pointed as you sat up, touching it.

“Oh yeah” you grinned before pulling the sheet that was covering Loki’s lower half away. “Oh how I’ve missed you!” You exclaimed, looking down at all eight inches of him.

“Could’ve fooled me” Loki joked.

“You think you’re funny?” You teased, straddling him.

“No thought, simply fact” Loki retorted.

“Mm?” You hummed questioningly as you guided his thick cock inside of you.

“Mhmm” Loki nodded in response as you lowered yourself onto him, eyes closing as he filled you to the hilt.

“Fuckk Loki” you moaned, rocking your hips forwards and backwards as his hands found purchase on your breasts.

“Just like that” Loki groaned as you clenched your walls around him “you feel so good.”

“Ughh Lokii” you whimpered, grounding your hips down against him as his cock throbbed inside of you.

“Keep doing that baby, fuckk” Loki pleaded as you circled your hips. “Feels too good” he almost mewled, rolling you over and switching your positions so that you were against the bed before he fucked into you with ardour, hitting that perfect spot as you thrashed against the bed, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Loki” you almost screamed, the headboard banging against the wall as he pounded you.

“D’you want my cum? Tell me you want it” Loki growled, still thrusting hard into you.

“I need it Loki, fuckk” you moaned loudly.

“Want me to cum inside this pretty pussy?”

“Pleaseee” you near begged.

“Tell me to cum” Loki implored as your legs began to shake.

“C—fuckk—cum with me Lokiii” you exclaimed before Loki came, shooting his load inside of you as your climax shook you.

Collapsing down next to you, Loki kissed your shoulder.

“What time does the bar close?” You broke the silence.

“Not until 2AM, why?” Loki answered as you smiled at him.

“I THOUGHT THAT I HEARD YOU LAUGHING, I THOUGHT THAT I HEARD YOU SINGGG” you sang, on stage with an actual microphone after spending the past hour at the bar with Loki.

“I THINK I THOUGHT I SAW YOU TRY” Loki sang with you, his own microphone in hand.

“BUT THAT WAS JUST A DREAM” you both sang together as the audience you had accumulated cheered you both on.

“We’re really good Loki” you spoke to him.

“So so good, the best” he agreed, turning to kiss you as the cheers grew louder.

“I love you” you spoke against his lips, hands roaming one another’s bodies as the kiss deepened.

“Alright alright, that’s enough” you were both escorted off of the stage.

“Pool?” You asked once your microphones were taken off of you and losing my religion stopped playing.

“Pool” Loki nodded.

Running towards it, you were thankful that it was empty once you arrived. You began taking your clothes off before jumping into the water, Loki not far behind you in his boxers as you kissed, the water pooling around your waist.

“I love you so much, do you know that?” Loki asked, looking into your eyes as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“You, Loki Laufeyson, are the love of my life” you smiled against his lips as you kissed him “now, do you want to take some more mushrooms and try on my dresses?”

“Yes,” Loki nodded.

“Great” you kissed him again.

The warm glow of the sunlight streaming into the room is what stirred you from your slumber. Stretching, you opened your eyes to find yourself in Loki’s arms. The feeling of you moving woke Loki.

“What happened yesterday?” You asked groggily.

“Why am I wearing a dress?” Loki spoke, looking down at his attire.

“And you’ve got lipstick on” you pointed out, looking at him.

“Well at least it’s yours” he smiled.

“How do you know it’s—” you began before Loki wiped some off of your lips. “Loki, are you wearing mascara?”

“Maybe” he shrugged.

“What a crazy weekend” you sighed.

“Indeed” he agreed and that was the end of that weekend. You both checked out of the hotel, flew home and continued your lives. The weeks turning into months.

Despite never admitting it to anyone, your favorite pastime was going to the park and reading a book with the sound of children in the background. It comforted you. It let you pretend that you were a mother, just for a moment, taking your child to the park. You’d get lost in the sound.

“Which one is yours?”

Looking up from your book, you turned to the elderly lady that sat down next to you. You felt a little embarrassed.

“Oh I don’t have a child” you tried to say nonchalantly.

“Yet” she smiled at you.

“No I-I can’t” you paused, falling silent as the lady looked you up and down.

“I wouldn’t be so sure dear�� she smiled almost knowingly at you, a smile that sent shivers down your spine. Gathering your things, you left the park and headed home.

When you arrived home, you were greeted by Loki who was cooking. He kissed you on the cheek as you entered the kitchen and made your way to the fridge before getting the ingredients for a sandwich out.

“What are you doing? You’ll spoil your appetite” Loki tried to deter you.

“I’m starving” you excused.

“Wait for dinner then”

“Sorry mum” you laughed as Loki put the bread away. “Is that my apron?”

“My one is currently in the washing machine” he answered, wrapping his arms around the apron defensively.

“Okay” you continued to laugh.

After dinner, you still couldn’t get the encounter you had with the lady earlier on out of your head. You thought about it as you ate, as you showered, as you brushed your teeth and as you got into bed. You even thought about it as Loki’s lips traveled across your chest and down your body. You couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“I spoke to a lady today, she said some strange things” you finally let out.

“Like?” Loki prompted you to continue as his kisses met the hem of your panties before he began tugging them down.

“That she wouldn’t be so sure that I can’t have children” you admitted.

“Y/n” Loki began sadly.

“No I know I can't, it's just she said it with so much conviction” you explained as Loki’s expression turned into one of pity “anyways it’s not important, will you continue” you tried to dismiss. It didn’t take long for you to cum before falling asleep, Loki’s head still between your thighs.

“Y/n? Y/n?” He called to no avail.

The following morning, it was nausea that woke you up as you jumped out of bed and sprinted towards the bathroom and rid yourself of yesterday's dinner.

“Y/n?” Loki knocked the door as you flushed the toilet.

“NO! Don’t come inside. I’m hideous and vomity and—” you listed as Loki opened the door.

“Y/n” Loki smiled, cupping your cheeks “you’re beau” he started before retching and throwing up too.

“Have we got food poisoning?”

“Impossible” he insisted.

“Maybe it’s just a bug then”

“We should rest” Loki suggested.

“I actually feel quite alright now” you countered, standing up.

“Strangely so do I, but I’d never say no to a lazy day with you” he grinned.

“I would kiss you but we should probably brush our teeth first” you giggled.

The following month, you and Loki were invited to a gala. You had picked out a dress to wear a few weeks ago only now, it wouldn’t zip up. Noticing your struggle, Loki came up behind you and began pulling the zip up before he too was met with resistance.

“I think I’m gaining weight Loki” you sighed as you slumped down.

“I’ve been thinking the same” he answered, causing you to gasp as you straighten yourself out again “about me!” He quickly added “I’ve been gaining weight too.”

“It’s all the carbs Loki, we can’t keep having pasta dishes”

“Apart from tonight, I’ve made your favorite, carbonara for when we get back” Loki smiled.

“Can I have some now, I’m feeling a little peckish?” You asked before Loki led you both to the kitchen. Digging your fork into your plate, you ate a little before rushing to the bathroom to puke which is something you had been doing a lot recently.

“What if something is seriously wrong?” You asked, swishing listerine around your mouth.

“We’ll book you an appointment with a doctor in the morning, okay darling” Loki suggested, you nodding in response.

A few days later, you and Loki found yourselves back in the doctor's office as she looked through her notes before looking up at you both as you sipped your water, your nerves consuming you.

“Well good news, you’re fine and so is the baby.”

Spitting out your water, you told her to repeat herself which she did.

“You’re pregnant” she informed you.

“I—no-I can’t be” you stuttered, Loki holding your hand.

“Yes, almost four months now but we can scan you—”

“MONTHS!” You exclaimed.

“Yes”

“I mean, are you sure?” Loki finally spoke.

“Positive. Haven’t you noticed any changes to your cycle or any symptoms?” The doctor asked.

“I thought I was just going through the change” you whisper shouted.

“Y/n, this is amazing!” Loki cheered, kissing you. “We’re going to be parents” he spoke against your lips.

“I-I’m going to be a mother” you began to cry.

“I’ll give you both some time” the doctor spoke before leaving.

“Loki, how did this—when did this?”

“If you’re four months now, this must’ve happened almost five months ago” he figured.

“What did we do five months ago?” You questioned.

“We were on holiday, that’s when I woke up in the dress” he remembered.

“Yesss, we must’ve been pretty wasted because I can barely remember it.”

“That’s when we conceived,” Loki smiled fondly.

“That explains all the vomiting and the hunger, not your vomiting though Loki” you narrowed your gaze.

“Who cares, this is a joyous occasion” Loki kissed you again before the doctor walked in and scanned you.

“Hello baby” you smiled at the screen, tears in your eyes. “I want to call it Hope, Hope Laufeyson”

From then on, Loki had been very careful with you and extremely accommodating to the point where whenever you’d touch your stomach, he’d do the same, whenever your ankles would swell, so would his and whenever you’d vomit, he’d vomit too. He was taking sympathy pains to a whole new level.

“Loki”

“Yes love”

“I think we’re spending too much time together” you answered quietly.

“As if that’s a thing” he laughed off.

“No seriously, we’re doing the same things”

“Many couples find themselves—”

“I’m pregnant Loki”

“Right”

“So we shouldn’t be acting the same way,” you explained.

“No we shouldn't,” he agreed.

“Loki!” You gasped, worrying him “come here” you called “I just felt a kick.”

Placing a hand on your stomach, Loki waited for another one before doubling over himself.

“Well this certainly shouldn’t be happening” he spoke.

“What?”

“It puts a whole new spin on sympathy pains” he continued.

“What?”

“I think—I think I just felt a kick too.”

“Impossible Loki, you have to actually be pregnant to—AHHHH!” You screamed.

“Whatt?” Loki yelped.

“I think I just saw the kick” you pointed to him.

“You don’t think I’m” Loki paused, stepping in front of a mirror and looking at his stomach.

“You can’t be, it’s not possible, is it?”

“What did we do on that weekend?” He worried.

“Well the best thing you can do is go to the doctors and get a scan just to check” you suggested.

“But I—I’m a-a man”

“Well, find a way of changing that”

“Like we did that weekend!” Loki gasped, remembering.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember? We took something and it altered our genders. That’s when I must’ve conceived” he figured.

“I got you pregnant?”

“We need to wait for a scan but it appears so” he agreed.

Using a lot of his Seiðr, Loki managed to switch sexes again, transforming into who you liked to call Lady Loki.

“You should really do this more often, I like it”

“Look at the mess it’s gotten us into already” Loki answered before you both headed to the clinic.

“Good news, you’re pregnant” the doctor smiled, looking at you both.

“Can we have a moment please” you asked.

“Sure”

“Loki, how is this even going to work?” You began to panic.

“I’ll have to stay like this until after the pregnancy” she decided.

“We’ve gone from no children to two” you breathed.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” Loki beamed.

“Yeah?” You questioned.

“Yes! A miracle” she clapped.

“You’re right. You’re right!” You smiled, kissing her “we're going to be parents!”

“The best!” Loki agreed.

Four months later, Loki gave birth to a boy and you a girl. After watching you breastfeed for the first time, Loki changed back into a male and insisted on just being a dad. You really were the best parents.

“You know, we could go on another holiday soon considering the children are growing up” Loki suggested a few years later.

“No!”

I’m so happy for them 🥺

Tags:

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @vickie5546 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @somewhereinthegalaxi @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @mushypork @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed

[scorchieart]

That Time Jin Had a Toothache 🍭🦷

Jin: Make hathte! Look upon your ailing brother and heed what becometh the man who over-indulgeth in pleathure!

Yves: You ate four candied apples and chipped a tooth. 

Jin: Excuthe me. A chipped tooth, three cavitieth, and thwollen gumth. Don’t thkimp out on my eulogy. 

Yves: I’ll be sure to mention your noble sacrifice— 

*Jin reaches for a bear-shaped cookie. Yves swats his hand away* 

Yves: Are you serious right now? 

Jin: Cut me thome thlack. Luke made thothe when he heard I fell in the line of battle.

Yves: Stop acting like a martyr, you glutton.

Jin: Everything I do ith in martyrdom, little brother. The eldetht readily thaccrificeth himthelf for the betterment of the flock.

Yves: Be quiet, we’re not birds. And you’re melting the ice with all that hot air you’re spewing. 

*Yves adds a fresh pack of ice over the melting one on Jin’s cheek* 

Yves: Euugh! And you got spittle on the cushions, too! Keep it in, will you? I cannot understand half the words you’re saying anyhow.

Jin: Aww, but you had the cutetht lithp ath a child, Yves. Made the whole palath thquee every time you opened your mouth. I remember it took yearth till you finally got Thariel’th name right. Thariel… Th-th-thariel… Yiketh, that’th a toughie.

Leon: Ah, dude. Now you’re getting spit all over my fancy suit.

Jin: Hey, you do look fanthy today… Hold it. What ith that in your handth?

Leon: Exactly what you think it is. A gun!

Jin: Leon, don’t lie to me. I played Luke’th route. I know what a gun ith.

Leon: No, you big goof. This is a heat gun. Totally harmless! On the lower settings, anyways.

Jin: Uhuh. And where did you get it?

Leon: From the All for Love! celebration event a few years back. Remember that photo shoot for the chibi dolls?

Yves: Don’t remind me. Nokto wouldn’t stop making jokes about how big my hand mirror was.

Licht: At least they didn’t stick you in a giant makeup bag. They made me pose for hours with those brushes and wands poking into my gut. I still have the bruises.

Jin: Uhuh. And how come I’m jutht finding out about thith now?

Yves: Maybe if your smile wasn’t so at-risk for cavities you would’ve been invited.

Jin: Pleath. The ladieth love a man with a thweet tooth—OUCH! Leon! What the heck, man!

Leon: Sorry, bro. I’m under strict orders from Yves to puff you with hot air anytime you make an allusion to sweets.

Jin: Who died and made Yves king? I’m not thaying that in mockery, by the way. I’m jutht upthet thith ith yet another event you didn’t invite me to, it theemth.

Yves: It’s for your own good! A man at your age needs proper discipline to keep out of trouble. And since words haven’t worked, we’ve elected to resort to other means.

Jin: *gasp* You didn’t.

Yves: I haven’t yet. But if you don’t show any progress soon I’m calling in the royal dentist. I mean it, Jin.

Jin: Thcary. Back me up here, Licht.

Licht: …

Jin: What’th up, buddy? Cake got your tongue—Yeowch! What wath that for?

Licht: You said the c-word. 

Jin: Not you too! Why d’ya thmile when Yves thaid the d-word? And do ya have to poke me with that giant lanthe? 

Licht: Increasing the surface area of pain deamplifies the sensation at its source.

Yves: Who taught you that?

Licht: I read it in a book. *poke*

Jin: ACK! That’th it. I don’t want you talking to Chevalier unthupervithed anymore. 

Licht: As soon as you learn to stop poaching others’ pastries. Horse and I were looking forward to those candy apples all week.

Jin: Fine, fine. I’m thorry. There, can you let me go now?

Yves: Not until you’ve proven you’re completely cured of your nasty saccharine habit. We’re not leaving this room until you can go a full day without eating these cookies.

Jin: You’d let them go bad like that? That’th too cruel!

Leon: Yeah, I’m with him on this one, Yves. Couldn’t we just use a picture of cookies instead? Would hate to see Luke’s work go to waste.

Yves: Oh, lay off it. They’re not going to spoil. And anyways, we’re feeding them to the horse at the end.

*Horse whinnies happily*

Leon: That’s one weird horse.

Licht: He’s Clavis’s.

Jin + Leon: Ahh.

Yves: Speaking of, will you lot please keep it down? I had to abandon my post for this and I don’t want a certain someone to find out.

Jin: No one appreciateth your thaccrifith more than I.

Yves: Then you’ll take it up with you-know-who should my room be defiled?

Jin: If you’re that worried, let’th end thith confinement early and you can go keep a lookout for Clavith. Trutht your big bro. I’m completely cured! 

Yves: I trust my trust in you has plummeted since you gave yourself that second cavity this month.

Jin: Thothe éclairth were worth it—Ouuuuch!

Leon: Keep your eye on the prize, Jin. And your drool off my pants.

Yves: Leon, try to avoid the ice pack when you blast him, please.

*Yves adds yet another ice pack*

Jin: You know, I’ve been waiting for thomeone to explain, but what’th with the cat hat, Yves?

Yves: Well, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we all had to sneak away from our typical duties to set this up. Licht disguised himself as a guardsman. The most adorable one in the entire palace no less, but it served our purposes. Leon is a dapper gent, which for some reason this place seems to always have an overabundance of. 

Jin: And you’re the pretty kitty to round out the gang?

Yves: *face turns red* I am the phantom cat who travels by shadow and blends in with the night, obviously.

Licht: It’s noon. You just shut the curtains.

Leon: Plus we didn’t need to sneak around. We’re kind of in charge of the place.

Licht: And it wasn’t so hard. I rode this horse all the way up here and no one noticed.

Leon: Hmm, maybe we need to review the guard rotations.

Jin: Licht, I don’t want you talking to Clavith unthupervithed anymore.

*horse grunts in agreement*

Yves: Back to the point! Maintaining the secrecy of this mission is of the utmost importance. What would it mean for us if word got out that the First Prince still gets cavities at his age? 

Leon: Sounds like a good excuse to set up that kingdom-wide dental hygiene education campaign we’ve been talking about. Jin can be like our mascot.

Jin: I can keep my lollipopth then? Thweet! Ouch!

Licht: Stop encouraging him, or we’ll never get out of here.

Yves: Um, hello? Did anyone even listen to what I’ve been saying?

Leon: You mean ninja cat? Looking sharp!

Yves: Is that all you…? Never mind. Just pipe down before someone hears.

Licht: If you mean someone besides us four, they already know.

Yves: WHAT?! Who knows?

Jin: Who knowth? Hehe.

Yves: Quiet, you. *covers Jin’s face with another ice pack* Answer me, Licht.

Licht: Well, Nokto for one. Technically he caught me on the horse, but I didn’t think it counted cause it was when we were still outside.

Yves: Curse him and his impeccable detective skills. I bet he deduced Jin was in trouble just by looking at your endearing getup.

Licht: No. He said, “What’s with the horse?” so I told him. He gave me that bunny to pass along to Jin as well as his well wishes.

Jin: *laughs beneath the ice* 

Yves: Licht, I don’t want you talking to Nokto unsupervised anymore. 

Leon: Lighten up, Yves. They were just trying to help. Like how Luke made those cookies. And that pillow there is the beta version of Clavis’s latest invention, or so he told me. Even Chevalier—

Yves: WAIT! You saw Clavis? When?

Leon: On my way over here. He flagged me down in the hall to talk about how happy he was to see so many dapper gentlemen around as of late.

Yves: But you didn’t tell him about you-know-what, did you?

Jin: *giggles beneath the ice* 

Leon: Nah, got him hooked on an even bigger scandal, if you catch my drift.

Licht: You didn’t tell him I nabbed his horse, did you? I’m telling you we were really looking forward to those apples.

Leon: No. I told him Yves left his room unattended.

Yves: You what?!

Leon: So much for keeping our voices on the down-low. Listen, I promise I’ll take care of whatever he leaves in there myself. Prince’s honor.

Yves: I may just cry.

Jin: Hehe, me too! Ouch, thith ith tho cold.

Leon: If you must, do it right into that pillow. Clavis said amusing things will happen when it gets wet.

Yves: And you let Jin rest on it?!

Licht: You’re the one who keeps piling melting ice bags on him.

Yves: Oh no, Jin!

*Yves removes all ice bags. Jin looks up with a twitchy smile.*

Jin: I can’t feel my fathe. Hehehe.

Leon: I gotcha bro.

*Leon sets the heat gun to a comfortable temperature. The boys sigh with relief once Jin’s face unfreezes.*

Licht: That was brutal.

Leon: Oh, yeah. I ran into Chevalier, too.

Yves: Oh, I knew this was a bad idea from the start! Why did you put me in charge, Leon?

Leon: Hey, you’re the best man for the job and you’re doing amazing. Plus, it’s fine. Chevalier was cool about it.

Licht: He never really does care when we get hurt.

Leon: He didn’t mention Jin, but he did save my behind. See technically I was supposed to return the heat gun right after the photo shoot. Something about preventing anachronisms and fourth-wall breaks, or whatever. But, I mean, come on! Who’d pass this thing up? Winters have been so easy ever since. Goodbye freezing toes! And you should see how it cooks meat!

Yves: Get to the point.

Leon: I’m getting there. So Clavis dumped the pillow on me because Sariel was chasing him. Caught me off guard so I didn’t get a chance to hide my gun. Before Sariel got too close, Chevalier showed up out of nowhere and blocked his view. That cloak of his is really impressive, I’d bet he could hide the horse behind it. Luckily, Sariel was too preoccupied with hunting down Clavis to stick around and ask questions.

Jin: Aha! Told ya Chevalier’th a good man at heart! Thweet ath pie, that guy—OUCHIE! Come on, Licht, it’th a figure of thpeech!

Leon: Chevalier said to make sure no outsiders knew we had access to such a hi-tech weapon. Personally, I think he just wants a turn at it. They stuck him with that giant lipstick tube at the photo shoot, remember?

Jin: Et tu, Chevie? I take it back, he'th rotten and I don't want any of you talking to him anymore.

Yves: Whoa, so not even Sariel’s allowed to know? I feel unworthy to have access to such illicit information.

Leon: Hey, you’re a worthy prince and a valued member of this team. Don’t you forget it.

*Licht and horse nod in agreement*

Yves: *blushes* You mean it? Gosh, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you all today. Guess the pressure got to me. But no more! We’re a team, and we’re in this together. Through the good and the—ARE YOU KIDDING ME, JIN?!

*Yves swats Jin’s hand away from the cookies again.*

Jin: What? Through the good and the bad, yeah? My weakneth maketh the retht of you thtronger. You’re welcome.

*Yves grunts and stands. Jin sits up and holds the bunny like a shield.*

Jin: Whoa whoa whoa. Maybe that made you a little too thuper thtrong, haha. Now it’th your turn to share a weakneth tho I can catch up. Okay? 

*Yves grabs Licht’s lance.*

Jin: Come on. Ninja kitty? Pleathe?

*Yves takes aim.*

Jin: Pretty pleathe with sugar on top—Ouch! Actually, I detherved that one. Thankth, Leon.

Leon: No problem, bro. Hey, you might wanna dodge.

*Yves strikes with the lance. It pierces the bunny’s head where Jin’s stomach lay moments before. Water starts spouting out of the doll.*

Yves: Wha—why was there water in that bunny? And why’s it so cold?

Licht: Oh, I forgot to mention. It’s an ice-pack bunny. Nokto got it on his last trip to Jade. He said it’s really popular with the kids there. Guess its guts melted.

Leon: Aww, that’s sweet—OW! Actually, I deserved that one. Thanks, Jin.

Jin: Anytime. I vowed to only uthe thethe fithtth to therve my kingdom, after all.

Yves: Okay, I have no idea what he just said, but everyone off the bed because that pillow is smoking.

*Clavis's pillow shakes and fumes. Everyone rushes to the walls.*

Licht: Maybe we shouldn’t have brought in the gifts.

Leon: And maybe we shouldn’t have tossed the only key to the room out the window.

Jin: It meanth the world to me that you all care.

Yves: If we don’t make it out of this. I want you all to know that it was an absolute honor and disaster working alongside you.

Licht: Ditto.

*Horse whinnies solemnly*

Jin: It wath one heck of a ride, boyth.

*Jin pulls lollipops out from his pockets and pops them into each of his brother’s and the horse’s gaping mouths with a salute.*

Leon: *spits out his lollipop* It’s not over yet.

Yves: Leon! What are you doing? Get back here!

Leon: Prince’s honor, Yves. I said I’d take care of it.

Yves + Licht: LEON!

*Leon straightens his suit and gives a thumbs up over his shoulder. Jin holds Yves and Licht back as Leon jumps onto the bed and covers the smoking pillow with his body. For a few moments, nothing happens. Then Leon begins laughing uncontrollably.*

Yves: Oh! It’s turned him insane! Give me the lance back, Licht, we have to put him out of his misery.

Leon: Relax, hehe! It’s some sort of laughing gas! Look, look—hahaha—the tag here says: THE CHUCKLE CUSHION! Bad dreams keeping you from your good night’s sleep? Simply turn the other cheek and let some of your blood, sweat, and/or tears fall onto the cushion’s surface to release a relaxing dose of bliss to lull you back to a happier dreamland. Warning: maximum of 9 droplets per single use; not recommended for users who suffer chronic excessive crying, sweating, or blood loss. Side effects may include uncontrollable laughter, freezing face, and increased desire to consume sugar. From Series VII of the Lelouch Trap Series™. Hahahahaha! 

Yves: Ohh, we practically drowned that pillow. And now he's caught the uncontrollable laughter.

Leon: Actually, that last 'Haha' was written on the tag, too. The most legible part, no less. Hehehe.

Yves: The loon. 'Blood loss' he writes, can you believe him?

Jin: *eyes the lance in Yves’s hands* At leatht he put a warning.

Yves: As if you ever read the fine print.

Jin: I’d be inclined to thtart today. Printhe’th honor.

Yves: *sighs* Very well. I suppose that’s enough excitement for one confinement. Come on, Leon, we’re taking you to the physician. But I’m keeping my eye on you, Jin. You’re on probation until—Hey! Where are the cookies?

Jin: Wathn’t me. Honetht!

*Jin holds up his hands in surrender. Lollipops and cookies and cakes slip out from underneath his shirt onto the floor in a sugary heap. On the other side of the room, Licht feeds Luke’s cookies to the horse and smiles as he opens the curtains and looks out the window.*

Leon: Scouting out the physician for me, Licht? Hahaha.

Licht: Sort of. I asked Nokto to call for the dentist, and he’s just arrived.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 6 - Canada Water Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 5 Summary: Neil shows you just how well he can take care of you. As the night at your place takes a turn, you both need to adjust to the slight change in the dynamic. Warnings: Explicit content, and I mean it; swearing; slight angst. Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm a day earlier than I thought but since barely anyone reads this anyway... *shrugs* might as well. This is 10+k of smut and then another 3k of mental spiralling (thanks to Duran Duran), to make things more entertaining :)) It's been a while since I wrote scenes like this and it proved to be a challenge but I do hope I delivered. One thing is certain - these two definitely were into whatever I envisioned in my daydreams ✨ Without further ado, I'm leaving you with another 14k of words. The motivation for this story fluctuates like crazy but for now, more is coming. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Although it was far from the very first time you had a gorgeous man kneel before you with a promising smile on his face and a determination to cure your ails through the sheer force of a good orgasm, it might have been the most memorable one.

If only just because of Neil’s eyes, staring into the depths of your soul as he carefully took off your underwear, simultaneously laying kisses on the expanse of your calves, knees, and thighs. In some shades of the light, you would swear his eyes were twinkling.

At first, you wanted to look away, hoping it would help your case. Make it seem less meaningful in this unspecified way that you could not and would not dissect for months. Soon, you found that you simply could not look away. Instead, you looked on, letting his tender caress arrest your senses and instantly put you back within that fuzzy space of mind. Once he took off your panties, Neil glanced up to meet your gaze, that dangerous smile still hiding in the corners of his mouth. His hands continued the journey, pulling up the dress for easier access, all the while driving you another step closer to madness with perfectly laid kisses, burning the tender skin of your inner thighs. Before you could even think of anything to say, he broke the heavy silence:

“You’re beautiful,” the certainty in his voice, as if stating a fact not unlike the existence of the forces of gravity, made you feel lightheaded.

Sure, it was something you had heard before. Maybe even often. But that didn’t mean you believed it. The notion scratched at the edges of your insecurities, never quite managing to scrape them away. Usually, it fell way off.

“See, I don’t know if I should take that seriously” stumbling through the sentence with a breathless voice, you subtly shifted your hips on the sofa and pointedly glanced down at Neil with what you hoped was ferocity, “Considering what you’re about to do to me,”

From his vantage point, with his hands pinning your thighs to the couch, legs wide open with everything on display, the point was more than evident. You could tell Neil caught it with how that light pink spread over his cheeks again, painting a fascinating contrast.

“You should,” drawing mindless circles on your kneecap as if to buy his time, Neil added, “I’ve thought it since I first saw you. It just didn’t seem the right thing to say back then” he shrugged, daring to put forward another mind-blowing concept.

Another fact undeniable only to him. As if desperate to make talking even harder for you, Neil took the pause as his chance to drop his gaze from that respectable position, wandering over your face to stare at the apex of your thighs with nothing but hunger in his eyes. You swallowed hard, feeling the arousal spread through your veins like wildfire.

“And now?” the question was all you could manage, driven by the remains of sanity that considered this answer essential.

As if it would change anything at all.

“Now I’m hopefully going to make you feel really good, so… There aren’t many lines left to cross” Neil glanced up at you again, that same confident smile acting as both a warning and an enticement, luring you in.

As if aware of your increasingly muddled state, he let go of your knee to squeeze your hand and grinned. There was nothing more you felt capable of saying. Or doing, except to drop your head back on the sofa headrest and let Neil do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Which was to trace an invisible line up the expanse of your right leg to that place between your thighs, that was already drenched because of him. Even that ghostly touch burned your skin as Neil carefully parted your folds with the tip of his index finger and dragged it through the slick. Muffling a groan by forcefully biting your lower lip, you closed your eyes. You were already on fire.

“Is this all for me?” the wonder in his voice, combined with just enough smugness to make you consider punching Neil in the face, was another reason to drown in the embarrassment.

Although, drowning in need was a close second with how Neil slowly mapped out his terrain, spreading the wetness over your slit and around the entrance. Preparing you for what he had in mind.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had found its way to the nape of his neck, lightly playing with the hair ends and pressing against the warm skin. The contact acted like an anchor, assuring you of the realness of the situation.

“Yeah, but don’t get too cocky about it,” the end of what you hoped to be a warning never quite landed as it was immediately followed by a gasp.

A consequence of the fact that Neil decided to use that exact moment to delve in. His warm breath fanned across your bare skin as he settled between your thighs with a simple comment:

“I’ll do my best” the tail end of the quip was followed by the first experimental lick through your folds, the tongue lightly dragging through the sensitive skin.

You choked on a curse, fingers of the occupied hand already tangling in his blonde locks. Your other hand gripped the sofa edge hard enough that you worried it would leave indents in the material.

Neil took that sound as a cue, repeating the move till you could barely stay still. Keeping your hips pinned to the couch with one arm slung across your thighs, he swirled his tongue over your heat, collecting the arousal as if he was dying of thirst. Just when you thought he would offer respite, he dragged the tip of his tongue up towards your clit and focused the attention on the spot that had you crying out loud.

It was easy to let go then. To keep your eyes closed when Neil’s thoughtful manoeuvres and skilled tongue attacked your senses with an intensity that soon made it impossible to think or speak. Resorted to incoherent mumblings and moans, you tugged at Neil’s hair with force, making him groan. The sound went straight to your core, shooting like a live wire through your body and making you tense up. He was good at this. Not that you ever doubted he would be. He listened and used the cues available to go where you needed him, interchanging between lapping at your heat and sucking your clit. Like a scholar dedicated to his study. Like a devoted believer praying at the altar of his God.

Or goddess, apparently.

You could feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten, that wave of pleasure getting close to unbearable with every second. An attempt at speech only got you as far as a breathless admission, interrupting the silence filled with nothing but your shameless screams:

“I’m so close” it was merely a fact, something he could discern from the force of your grip over his hair or the way you quivered, barely able to keep yourself together, “Neil, please just-”

You did not even know what you were asking for. Something. Anything.

He knew anyway. You felt a comforting touch, a careful hand tracing invisible circles on the skin of your outer thigh as Neil took a break to glance up. Your eyes snapped open at the interruption, meeting his gaze as if following a sense you had no label for.

Much later, you would wonder whether that, the connection so alike the first time your eyes met over the carriage floor, could be something different than a trick of light. Something substantial. Something terrifying.

But, back then, you could only stare back. Vulnerable and at his mercy, yet not scared of the prospect. As if able to read your mind or the incoherent ramblings resembling scatterings of thoughts, Neil shot you a grin. His lips and chin were glistening, coated with your slick. The sight was enough to make you clench around nothing and shudder. Your body wound tight still.

Whatever Neil saw in that moment of silence must have been what he was searching for. Your eyelids fell close when you felt him dive in again, the talented lips enveloping your heat without a second wasted.

Before you could as much as let yourself immerse in the steady rise of pleasure, in the exact feel of his mouth at the most sacred of places you could offer, he took it that one step further. Delivering the deathly stroke with the tip of his tongue, prodding at your entrance, and penetrating it without mercy. It was too late to try muffling the cry torn out of your throat without warning. Christ. You could only attempt not to rip the hair from his head as you tugged at the blonde locks and tried to get him closer. Tried to do what you always did and take what you wanted.

But Neil would not let you, his grip unyielding over your hips, keeping you pinned to the sofa. Keeping you spread out and helpless as he dragged you over the precipice with the tenderness of his touch and the determination of a man desperate to do well. Desperate to serve.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse carried on a moan in that last flash of coherence before the edges of your vision darkened, and your spine rose in an arch, unable to hold still anymore, “I’m-” the thought, whatever it was meant to be, was never finished.

Instead, it got replaced with a litany of his name, whispered with the tint of ecstasy, colouring the vowels and consonants. As if you had nothing else to say. No one else to praise. Just Neil. The wave of pleasure crashed into you without subtlety, its force rendering you numb as you quivered beneath his tongue and under his firm hands. Neil held you as you shook, licking you clean as if he did not want to lose the taste of you from his tongue for hours to come.

When the orgasm started fading, and you felt your body relax again, falling limp against the cushions, you opened your eyes. The hazy vision blurred the edges of your living room, making it seem soft and pliant. Unreal. With a quiet sigh, you glanced down just in time to see Neil raise his head and meet your gaze.

He painted a picture, as always. The blonde strands fell into his eyes, and the sharp cheekbones bathed in pink blush as his lips curled into a smirk. That sudden spike of desire to grab his tie and pull him into a kiss, to learn what your taste feels like on his tongue, was hard to fight against. It made you curl your hand into a fist, focusing on the shade of blue in his eyes. Until you could take another breath. Until your heart rate slowed down. Until everything felt real.

Until you knew what was happening next.

As if aware of the internal crisis, Neil stayed quiet. He observed you with almost unnerving stillness before seemingly finding what he was looking for and letting your legs close with a final kiss on the kneecap. He propped his chin on your thigh, almost resembling a perverse image of a lapdog that you had no idea you were into before now. Curious.

“Everything alright?” the huskiness of his voice swept over your senses like a chilling breeze, waking you up from a trance.

What a silly question. As a preamble to an answer, you shot Neil a wide grin, aware of the madness still clearly visible in your eyes. It hardly mattered.

“Even better” dragging your fingers through his golden mane, you relished in the slight tremble of his hands as Neil settled them atop your thighs. Now it was time to give praise where it was due, “I always knew you’d be good at this, but… fuck’s sake,” that was as far as intelligence went, replaced with a groan that doubled as a dreamy sigh.

It still barely covered what you wanted it to. But Neil knew. It was visible in the pleased smile and the knowing glance thrown your way from his spot at your feet. Almost lazily, his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean of your arousal. Without breaking the eye contact. Of course.

You could hardly ignore the fact that you were wet again. Still, that is.

“I aim to serve, m’lady” squeezing your thigh, Neil got up from his knees to sit by you on the sofa.

He stayed close, and that proximity, complete with the undiminished hunger in his eyes, told you all you needed to know. A push in the right direction.

“Yeah, you do” offering Neil a sly smirk, you shifted so that you were facing him and reached out to grab his tie and pull him close. Just like God intended. Probably, “Come here, I need to-” that sentence had no end prepared, so you sealed it with a kiss.

Your lips covered Neil’s with a self-explanatory intent as your tongue teased and prodded until he opened his mouth and let you in. That first taste of yourself coating his tongue was a revelation. It made you groan, motivating you to rise on your knees and climb into his lap without breaking the kiss. That second of hesitation following the bold move was eradicated when Neil pulled you closer with his hands on your waist. He kissed you as if his life depended upon it, swirling his tongue around yours and mapping out the inside of your mouth. A rush of blood to your head was the reason why you decided to switch it up, lightly scraping your teeth over his bottom lip and pulling until you got a response. The answering growl, reverberating through his chest, ignited the sparks burning out in your blood. Now you knew what you needed to happen. The realisation made you pull back with a final peck upon his parted lips and open your eyes.

Neil’s wrecked gaze felt like a boost to the system, increasing your confidence. It was a reason why you comfortably settled in his lap and regarded him with quiet contemplation. Returning the earlier look.

You tried not to dwell on how different it felt, unhurried and deliberate like none of your previous hook-ups. How uncomplicated it all seemed, with Neil’s steady gaze and firm hands holding you still. How unavoidable you had deemed it to be a long time before. You tried and failed, burying the thoughts behind a wall of sensations and feelings. You hoped they would never resurface again. Somehow.

“Good?” Neil’s question made you start, instantly pulling you back from the abyss in your head.

The surprise must have shown on your face, for Neil followed the question by brushing his nose against yours, tenderness permeating every glance and gesture.

It was almost too much.

“Great” aware of the shakiness of your smile, you splayed your hand over the expanse of his chest, feeling the heartbeat.

It was both a distraction and searching for confirmation. A confirmation that you were not about to make an idiot out of yourself.

The rapid beat beneath your hand erased the doubts, helping you make that decisive move. Meeting Neil’s questioning gaze, you smiled. The edge of your grin turned sharp at the mere thought. Before he could catch the meaning, you got up from the sofa and reached out a hand towards Neil. Extending an invitation.

You could see the quick calculations behind his stare, the blue eyes switching between your extended hand and the enigmatic expression. Although the silence felt eternal, it only lasted a beat. Without another word, Neil took your hand, enlaced your fingers in a loose hold, and stood up from the couch. The certainty in his gaze made it easy to start leading him towards the room down the corridor. The room he has already seen, albeit not in this context.

At the doorway, you let go of him to turn on the lamp in the corner, bathing the room in a warm glow. Neil crossed the threshold, following you like a ghost. You did not need to tell him to shut the door till only a small gap remained. Or to meet you halfway across the room and pull you back into his embrace like you belonged there.

And tonight, it felt like you did.

One giddy kiss quickly turned into the next and then another after that. Until you were both gasping for breath, needy hands tugging and sliding across the pieces of clothing that were in the way. It was then, midway through an inhale you desperately needed, that you realised there was one crucial thing left to settle. One question that you owed Neil:

“Before I make a fool of myself… Do you want this?” settling your hands on his shoulders, you met Neil’s gaze with what you hoped was a coherent enough look.

You could tell the question surprised him from the way his eyes widened, hands wrinkling your dress over the hips with a tight grip. But the pause only lasted a second.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” the confidence was striking, almost fatal in how well it fit his beautiful face. The angles softened by the warm light, and the smugness still felt lethal, threatening to cut you open if you kept on being reckless. You pushed the warning to the back of your head, focusing on the look in Neil’s eyes, “I want you. So much it drives me crazy” the admission completed the desire in his gaze.

Its simplicity drove a shiver up your spine and bloomed heat on your cheeks. While it was nothing you have not anticipated, hearing it said so plainly drove the point home. It offered no space to bargain for insecurities and doubts. As much as you still did not know the expiration date on this precious, lovely thing between you, now you knew where it was going. You knew the drill. The logic of it. Need, want, desire. Yearning to have another person, claim them as your own, just for one night. Just until you felt whole again. One night should be enough.

Right?

Instead of addressing that thought, you smoothed out the creases in Neil’s tie and met his gaze with indifference. (At least outwardly).

“Fab. I’m glad we got that sorted” giving the Windsor knot a final pat, you shot Neil a smile.

Slowly, with his grounding touch running over the sides and down to your hips, you could feel the temperature rise again. The increase was steady, not yet overwhelming like before on the sofa, but it was very much there. It made your gaze wander, trailing down the column of his neck, begging to be kissed and bitten, to the expanse of his chest, still hidden by the frustrating layers of cotton and linen. You desperately wanted to get your hands on him. Properly.

“Do you?” the question caught you by surprise, making you look up to see Neil’s searching gaze.

Your brain muddled with want, needed another second to understand what he meant. Only then disbelief took the stage, with the bewilderment in your eyes. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Obviously. I’ve only been eye-fucking you for months” that was an understatement.

But it hit the mark, with a hitch in his chest and a subtle move of hands on your hips pulling you a fraction closer. Enough so there was barely space left between your bodies, and you could just about feel the effects of your words and actions on Neil. At least the physical side of them. A glance down, below his belt, confirmed the suspicions and made you grin like a wolf that has just spotted its prey for the night.

“Have you now?” the hints of amusement in his voice, still somehow mixed with uncertainty, were enough to put the need aside for one second and meet Neil’s gaze with confidence.

The apprehension, when it came to how you saw him, had no place here. Not when each time you laid your eyes on him, you only found more reasons to be captivated. Not when Neil tended to be the only one you could see when you were together. When he haunted your dreams with beauty and pleasure. No, that wouldn’t do.

Covering his hands with yours, you stood on the tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. Leaning in, you whispered a simple admission:

“Yes, Neil” you hoped he could tell there was more behind those two words. That he could see the depths of admiration you had never possessed for another person, save for him. That he knew how much you meant every tender compliment and careful touch. It was the most you could offer. The furthest line you would cross. It was high time to return to the crux of the conversation. You did so with a bat of the eyelashes and a smirk on your face, “And now I want you to fuck me. Is that clear?”

Admittedly, the whiplash you served Neil was quite something. He took it with a few seconds of hesitation, a lack of comprehension flashing through his eyes in something resembling the 500 error screen. You fought the urge to burst out in ridiculous giggles. Then, as if his brain finally caught up with your words, Neil blinked. Once, then twice. Blue eyes flashing with inklings of understanding. It was fascinating to watch. To notice the different shades of his iris and then the exact second when yearning replaced the previous confusion and took up reigns.

“Yes, m’am” grinning wide, Neil mimicked a lazy salute and took a decisive step forward, pushing you towards the bed with newly minted drive.

You sure did not mind the initiative, letting him steer you in the right direction until you felt the edge of the mattress hit the backs of your legs. A sudden strike of inspiration made you use the years of ballet and turn on your toes, pivoting you both to reverse the positions. His quiet gasp was an indication that you succeeded. Without another word, you pushed him down to sit on the bed, meeting the bewildered gaze with a grin. It was high time he got used to it.

When you had him where you wanted – seated below you with a gaze full of awe and parted lips, you whispered the only praise that came to mind:

“Good boy,” the effect was instant.

A swallowed groan, complete with an eye roll that was still somehow fond. Before you could react, tease him further, Neil reached out to grab onto your hips and pulled you down, throwing you off balance. There was no point in resisting gravity as you tumbled down onto the mattress with a whoosh and found yourself in his arms. Again. His hands wandered over your body in broad strokes, igniting the fire as you closed the distance and captured his mouth in a kiss.

One kiss stretched into another and one more still, spanning minutes and seconds until you were both gasping for oxygen. Until all you could taste was Neil, and all you could feel was his touch. Between one sharp inhale and the next, you placed a kiss on the edge of his mouth and started trailing pecks down the column of his neck, making Neil shiver and moan. Each kiss was sealed with the tiniest bite, barely reddening the tender skin and a reconciliatory lick so you could satiate the desire with his taste. Just a little bit.

His exploring hands crept beneath the hem of your dress again, pulling up the fabric and creating goosebumps on your thighs. There was no guessing what it meant. Ending your intensive study with a lingering bite over his pulse point, marking him for everyone to see, you leaned back far enough to meet Neil’s gaze. You offered him a subtle nod and sat up, twisting so he could see the zipper running down your spine. The message was clear. He caught it with a knowing smirk, lightly brushing away the hair falling over the nape of your neck. The tremble in the wake of his touch had to be disguised with a sigh.

Even now, Neil was gentle. One of his hands settled on the back of your neck, stroking the delicate skin with unnecessary care, while the other tugged at the zipper, slowly undressing you. That first hit of colder air in the apartment was a shock to the system, making you inhale sharply. The sound alerted Neil. His hand skirted down your spine to warm up your skin revealed beneath the dress. Now, you could not do anything about the shivers rocking through your body in an embarrassing display. Before you could even attempt to fill the silence with another dose of bullshit, Neil pulled the zipper all the way down to the base of your spine and slipped his hand inside the dress. The warmth of his palm against your bare stomach felt like a burning flare, putting your soul alight. Sucking in the air sharply, you pressed your back to his chest, seeking out more.

The intimacy of the moment could not escape your attention. The slow pace and conscious decisions to get to know each other first were something new. Something unheard of as far as your hook-ups went. There was no rush in tearing off the clothes and getting off as far as possible to avoid the thoughts catching up. Instead, there was Neil’s hand against your midriff and his mouth against the back of your neck, gently biting the sensitive skin and making it impossible for you to detach from the present moment. Not that you wanted to.

When he deemed it right, Neil leaned back and slipped the dress off your shoulders. A sudden uncertainty took root in your heart, like a bad seed eager to corrupt the rest of the crops. What was about to happen seemed substantial somehow. Despite the improbable nature of the idea that Neil could take one look at you naked and decide that you were not worth his time, the concept was still there. It replaced the previous bravado, making you exhale shakily before standing up and turning towards him, holding up the article of clothing to keep it from falling.

You knew there was no point in fooling yourself that Neil did not catch on to your hesitation. Not with the way he always saw right through whatever posturing you tried to attempt. You met his gaze, aware of the extent of damage to the reputation it would do. All you found looking back at you was his silent reassurance, trying to keep you anchored. Inhale. Exhale.

Before your brain could become a little bitch again, you relaxed the hold over the fabric, letting it fall to the floor. You had nothing to hide behind, having left the bra back in the dressing room and your underwear on the floor of the living room. The chill in the air made you tremble, barely resisting the urge to cover up.

Neil’s gaze remained steady as he took you in. His eyes roamed over your body, noting the curves and edges, imperfections, and flaws. That fear was still there, making you tighten your hands into fists. Neil closed the gap, taking both your palms into his and relaxing the muscles. Taking a deeper breath, you risked meeting his eyes. The blue depths lured you in, showing nothing but affection and infatuation. For reasons unknown, the look felt dangerous in way you could not describe. So, you stared back, ignoring the desire to fill the stifling silence with words that could not be taken back.

As always, Neil proved to be the braver one.

“Are you alright?” his soothing tone complemented the gentle touch of his hands running up your bare arms to rest over your shoulders.

Even now, Neil proved to be shockingly respectful. His eyes never strayed from yours and although he had all rights to touch you as he pleased - he did not. Something in his gaze told you this was a given for Neil. A rule he would never even consider crossing. The realisation helped you find your voice again.

“Always,” the wavering tone did nothing to create an illusion of nonchalance.

But then, it was too little too late, anyway.

Upon Neil’s searching gaze, you nodded. It must have been what he was looking for because the next thing you knew, he was placing a lingering kiss on your lips and letting his hands wander. At first, tentatively down the centre of your chest and over the heart, beating so fast you would swear even Neil could hear it pounding in the silence. Then, he got braver, palms cupping your breasts and tracing the pink areolas, making you gasp and tense. If his hand delved between your thighs, you knew he would find you dripping wet.

But he didn’t. Instead, Neil mapped out the constellations of freckles and beauty marks over your chest and stomach while massaging your breasts and stoking the fire burning underneath your skin.  When he first tweaked your nipple, the resulting moan made you clamp your mouth shut with your hand and stare at him in silent horror. There was no room for aloofness and detachment here. No space to pretend you were not bothered. And that was terrifying.

Yet, the most terrifying moment came a little later when Neil had you spread out beneath him on the bed. He was still wearing clothes, and it was a fact that would have caused much more annoyance had he not just finished leaving marks over your chest, kissing, and biting all the sensitive spots. Your panting mouth was still parted on a gasp when Neil released your nipple with a wet pop and moved back up to meet your gaze. Like this, with his cheeks permanently coloured pink and lips red from the kisses you did not seem able to stop trading, he was exceptionally breath-taking. Your chest heaved as you attempted to formulate any words, but before you could succeed, Neil broke the silence:

“You’re beautiful” it was an echo from maybe an hour before, uttered with even more reverence.

The effect was strengthened by the look in his eyes, roaming over your face with something akin to worship.

Worship you were not worthy of. Never. And especially not by Neil, who, without a shadow of a doubt, deserved better. The thought was not anything new, yet it acted like a bucket of ice-cold water, wiping off the dreamy haze you had settled into. Oh, so stupidly.

Suddenly, the rightness of it all seemed wrong. Skewed in a direction you did not dare ponder. Because yes, Neil was the right one, the one you desperately needed to have. Even if just once. But not like this. Not with all those feelings and monumental thoughts that strayed too far from the comfort zone. No, you had to act. Had to remind both Neil and yourself what was going on here. Who you were supposed to be.

Swallowing past the inexplicable lump in your throat, you sat up and pushed Neil up with your hands around his neck. It was much easier to breathe like this, no longer entirely at his mercy. With his blue eyes peering at you with curiosity, you settled your hands on the buttons of his vest and smirked:

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” now that sounded more like you.

It was a perfect opener, instantly eliciting a reaction in the form of widened eyes and parted lips. Neil stared at you for something close to thirty seconds, which proved that it was the last thing he expected you to say. But then, just as you dared undo the first button of his vest, he grinned. That wolfish smile which haunted your sleepless nights flashed at you with an edge of something dangerous hidden beneath. Something you wanted to discover.

“Then do something about it, Cupid” Neil shot you a wink and leaned back on his elbows to strengthen the point.

The point that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. There was no need to say it twice. You undid the rest of the buttons on his vest, pushing the garment down his shoulders and letting Neil shrug it off till the garment landed on the floor. It had served its purpose. Definitely.

Loosening up the tie was the easy part, and as you took it off over his head, you paused with the burgundy accessory in hand. The second of hesitation did not go unnoticed.

“What’s up?” Neil’s cautious tone made you grin as you looked up to see him peer at you with curiosity and alarm in equal proportions.

Wrapping the tie around your fist to keep the accessory as a needed prop dressing in the scene, you shrugged:

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about the different ways I could use this on you” the twinkle in your gaze was unmistakable for what it suggested.

There sure were ideas. Tones of them, and one better than the other. Images like wrists bound together with the tie or the burgundy fabric used as a blindfold were only a start of what you could concoct at the spur of the moment. The ideas alone made you shiver with anticipation.

Even more so when you saw Neil’s blank gaze, staring at the very topic of the conversation with something that could only be described as revelation. It dawned slowly as his pupils dilated, and the darkness consumed the blue irises. Licking his lips thoroughly as if already feeling the effects of what was about to happen, Neil raised his head and met your gaze.

“Now?” he sounded breathless, tongue stumbling even over a one-word question.

You buried the wave of affection under a dry chuckle, focusing on unbuttoning his shirt with single-minded focus. The tortoiseshell buttons necessitated a certain degree of patience, which you were not sure you possessed. And least of all right now. But, considering that the alternative was doing something stupid like ripping it off him, you did your best. The expletives still came, even if only in the quiet of your mind.

“Next time” once you were halfway done, you looked up and winked.

Was it too much? Probably. It assumed a course of events that you had no right to dump on Neil. Let alone like this. As if it was a given. But hopes were there, traitorously scheming in the unconscious layers of your psyche. Faint wishes that maybe you could have more than a one-night special.

Before you could dwell on the probability of thoughts like these, you broke eye contact again and glanced at your work in progress. With just a couple of buttons left, you could see the perfect canvas - pale and almost unblemished. You rushed through the remaining steps and pushed the shirt down his arms until he took over the task with a smirk and shrugged it off. You did not wait to look where the shirt had fallen as your eyes took in the picture.

He was beautiful in that perfectly imperfect way that tended to catch you unaware. His broad chest narrowed at the waist, presenting just the right amount of musculature. Strong arms drew you like a magnet, and you did not hesitate before letting your hand dart out to skim over his biceps and down the planes of his chest to touch the firm muscles. Neil was watching you intently. His gaze followed your every move as you slowly took him in. Noticing the scattering of beauty marks along the inside of his right arm and the dark, coarse hair covering his torso. Pressing your hand against the centre of his chest, you felt the beat of his heart and the heat of his skin. A strange sense of completion settled in your chest, making the heat bloom on your cheeks. That never happened before, either.

Before you could spiral over that singular, alarming thought, Neil covered your hand with his and asked:

“Better than the picture?” although the smug smile graced his features, you could sense hesitancy underlining the question.

A fear that you were about to laugh at him or ridicule his looks. As if he wasn’t the most incredible person you’ve seen. As if you were not rendered speechless.

There was no other way to approach it than by acting. Fast.

You glared at him with what you hoped promised no bullshit to be accepted and pushed at his chest till Neil was sprawled on your bed with his head propped on the headboard. He painted a beautiful picture. The only flaw was the infuriating presence of pants, but that had to wait. Just a little longer.

When you had him where needed, you straddled his lap and met his slightly bewildered gaze with a confident smile.

“Definitely,” you nodded, strengthening the statement with a careful touch as your fingers stroked his torso, wandering down till you could lay your palm flat against his abdomen. The trail of darker hair disappearing under the belt acted like a magnet, and you did not even try resisting the pull, “You’re fucking stunning,” sealing the compliment with a kiss was just a formality.

Yet the way Neil leaned into it, kissing you back with the ferocity of that first time on the platform, made your head spin. Somewhere, at the edge of consciousness not presently occupied with the taste of his tongue and the exact way his mouth pressed against yours, you could not ignore the obvious. The fact that it was never like this. No one-night-stand ever felt this deliberate and measured in a way that still incited a fire in your stomach and hunger in your blood. There was something different in how you kissed and let things slowly build up to sex rather than just rushing through every step along the way.

It all led to another thought, a faint realisation that you might have already subconsciously decided that one time with him would not be enough. Even before getting to know what it was like. That thought was not as terrifying as you expect it to be. Still, you ignored it, placing it among the towering piles of things not spoken or thought of until the end of time itself.

The piles were beginning to topple. One by one.

Neil broke the kiss with a telling gasp, shifting beneath you and bumping his hips into yours, drawing your attention back where it belonged. Namely to the darkness of his eyes and the visible bulge below the belt. Your hands almost automatically wandered to the belt buckle, but before you could put them to work, his breathless attempt at speech made you stop:

“I’m not-” you did not need to hear the sentence to understand it.

It was there in the uncertainty of his gaze and the bashful blush on his cheeks. How he still chose to stare at the bedcover instead of you, even when you were in his lap, free to be ogled for all he liked.

It was increasingly clear that Neil was not like that. That he was not like anyone you had ever known.

Ignoring that primal desire to undo his belt right this very instant, you abandoned the task and cupped his face between both hands, forcing Neil to meet your gaze.

“You are. Trust me,” there was no need to make those words sound convincing, for you believed it more than you knew how to express.

You stared as Neil seemingly tried to take it in. His eyes roamed over your features with scrutiny for a beat. He must not have found anything amiss because the next thing you knew, Neil was breaking into a smile and pulling you back into his arms.

Things went a little easier after that when you could fall upon familiar sensations and actions to push you in the right direction. Sure, there still were a couple of hung-ups, like that embarrassingly long pause you stumbled into once you had successfully taken off Neil’s trousers and underwear and could compare imagination to reality. Your imagination fell short. Somehow. Because, as you probably should have expected, Neil had no reason to compensate for anything. In the slightest.

At first, your undivided attention made Neil fall quiet, with the bashfulness threatening to replace the tentative confidence you were beginning to enjoy about him. But that changed when you shook off the hitch and let your hands explore. Your fingers traced the veins on his length as your palm started stroking him with confident twists in the wrist. Then Neil was not able to stay quiet any longer. He groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest as he laid next to you on the bed. Something in his gaze made it impossible to look away as you stroked and touched him, listening to the cues so earnestly provided. Soon enough, you knew what he liked, what moves elicited the moans that shot right to your core, making you squeeze the thighs hard in pointless hopes that it would do something to ease the throbbing want. It didn’t do shit.

As if reading your mind (or simply seeing the need written all over your face), Neil batted your courageous hands away with a pained glare that told you all you needed to understand and allowed his palms to wander. The hand that was previously placed on your hip slid down your naked skin. The places he touched felt like they were on fire, and the sensation grew when you felt his elegant hand delve between your legs again with confidence. Unbeknownst to Neil, that – his beautiful and mouth-wateringly long fingers moving between your thighs and between your folds – was a frequently-featured hit in your nightly fantasies. The reality lived up and surpassed the imagination in this case, too.

A wolfish grin you noticed too late did not warn you of what was coming. Neil wasted no time. His right hand instantly darted to your clit to circle the bud with precision and speed that matched the level of your fever. With him, you found no need to fill the silence with pointless words, instead letting yourself gasp and moan as he met your gaze with a smirk on his face and dipped a finger inside. There was no need to question the wetness he must have found, yet you noted a surprise pass through his face as if that was somehow unexpected. But you had no time to dwell on the thought. That delicious stretch as Neil added the second finger to your entrance wiped all coherence from your head. A loud moan tore at your throat as you shivered, finally feeling something take care of the emptiness at your core. But it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be till you had him.

His fingers quickly build up a rhythm, with the thumb pressing at your clit just right. Your hands, which had previously idly rested on his chest, ventured up to grasp at his shoulders, looking for support as the pressure rose with overwhelming pace. You were aware of the red lines you were scratching on his back and the pathetic moans and half-swallowed curses that permeated the silence. But you were unable to do anything about them. Not with how Neil knew exactly what to do to make you come. Again.

That lethal strike came when you felt a third digit delve inside. It joined the other two, keeping up the pace and making you scream with pleasure. The perfect fulness could only be replaced with one thing. One sensation that would go beyond it. It was a thought that pushed you over the edge, making you rake your fingers through his skin and squeeze your eyes shut against the force of the orgasm. Only once you felt like you could breathe again, lying lifelessly on the bedding, you opened your eyes again. The smug smile on Neil’s face confirmed one thing – he knew what he was doing. You were but a mere puppet in his hands.

A very willing puppet, one might add.

When you recovered the senses and coherence enough to speak, you met Neil’s gaze and stated:

“I’d like you to fuck me” there was no need to hide behind metaphors and euphemisms when saying it out loud was merely a formality.

Everything before led to it, after all. Every touch, glance, and flirtatious exchange that with Neil was almost too easy. It was what you always wanted, right from that first conversation and the dawning understanding that Neil was too incredible to forget. It was not an accident that ever since meeting him, you had close to no desire to have sex with anyone else, no pull to score another hookup in the bathroom of a club or the apartment of yet another random guy.

No, what you wanted (who you wanted) was Neil.

What you saw in his eyes, looking back at you through the narrow space between your heads, told you that he got the message. The yearning you often thought you saw in his gaze was present now. Along with want that dripped from his hands as they touched your body, tenderly yet with purpose. Neil stared at you as if he never wanted to look away and could not be convinced to. Like you were the only thing he desired. Or at least, you hoped it was like that for him. Too.

“Are you sure?” the pre-emptive question would have been silly was it not so damn endearing coming from him.

It coexisted with his hands skating over every inch of your skin within his reach and his hardening length pressing against your thigh. You had no choice but to offer him a smirk and cup his face to soften the tone. Just a notch.

“Very,” sealing the response with a kiss, you moved closer across the minimal space so that no gap between you remained.

It was easy to hitch your thigh over his hip and take him in your hand to guide him inside. It was easier still to break the kiss with a gasp once you felt him enter you. The sound mixed with his choked breath, sharp and sudden as if even though it was expected, Neil was not quite ready. His hand tangled in the hair at the back of your head, gently holding you close. The other was splayed over your waist, helping to find that perfect angle. He slowly inched inside, taking his time to bottom out, for which you were more than grateful. The pace helped you get accustomed to the feeling of fullness, almost painful yet not at all. The slight discomfort was the wake-up call you needed, a sensation so familiar that you could rely upon it to find your footing. To ignore the feelings and inconvenient thoughts for the sake of this, right here.

It helped you adjust the position, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage and meet his gaze. A moan upon the feeling of him inside you, filling you perfectly, was muffled with a kiss he incited. It deepened as you opened your mouth for Neil and shifted so that your pelvises were touching. The move made him break the kiss with a telling groan, expressing exactly how it felt. He occupied all your senses, making it impossible to think or do anything but stare back at his beautiful face, now transformed by pleasure.

That first moment, the first sensation of connection when you slept with someone new, often hit like a drug. A dopamine hit, going straight to your brain. A rare sense of completion, especially sweet after months or weeks of pining for someone. It was like that now, too. The sensation of his naked skin touching yours, the heat of his body burning at your cells, and the strange knowledge that at least for the moment, you were one. Bodies and souls joined for one common purpose. Chasing that spectacular high that you knew was in reach now. Only then did you not feel like you were missing something crucial that you would never attain.

“All good?” your silence must have been alarming, for Neil’s question had a tint of concern underlining it.

Only that made you realise he was still as if frozen by uncertainty and afraid to mess it all up somehow. As if that was possible.

That had to be amended instantly.

“Yes,” offering him a slightly manic grin perfected by insanity in your gaze and tender touch ghosting over his beating heart, you added, “You can move now,”

Neil did not need to be told twice. He took your hand in his and started the slow tempo, thrusting with something you could easily mistake for gentleness. Softness you were not used to crashed against the walls built around your guarded heart. For now, they were too weak to cause damage. Thank God.

Tightening the hold over his palm, you raised your joined hands over your heads, looking for something to hold on to. Your other hand found purchase on his shoulder, digging in your fingernails as the pressure rose. The unhurried rhythm made the pleasure fill your veins in slow, consistent waves. You could feel it build up again as your inner muscles contracted, eliciting moans and curses from Neil. Once you knew how to meet him in the middle, you bucked your hips in response, earning a groan that shot straight to your molten core. The sound and the gratification it carried brought a grin to your face. It spurred you on with the promise that you could return the immense satisfaction Neil brought you. That you could make yourself memorable.

That notion inspired you to use the core strength and athletic training and topple Neil without letting you separate. His sharp gasp told you it was the last thing he expected. Good. From your new position astride him, you watched his heaving chest as Neil processed your impish trick. Warm light painted his skin and made his hair look like a golden halo belonging to a fallen angel. An angel worth the fall from the heavens.

Before he could recover fully, you rolled your hips and rose on your knees to fall again in the slightest of moves. It only strengthened the titillation on his face, but it did the trick. His blue eyes blinked awake as his hands found their purchase again, skating over your thighs to rest on your hips. With your subtle nod, he guided you to match the desired tempo.

Like this, with full opportunity to control the pace, you could allow yourself to stare. To take note of the subtle changes on his face. Like the crease between his eyebrows begging to be smoothed out. Or the panting mouth, pink parted lips still red from the kisses. Or the pearls of sweat on his temples and chest, proving that you were doing something right. Proving that perhaps Neil would remember you.

The coil in your lower stomach was tight now, feeling close to bursting and bringing you another orgasm. You could tell Neil was close, too. It was visible in the bliss written all over his face, and the abdomen muscles pulled tight. Your fingers grazed over his chest, drawing mindless patterns and bringing out goosebumps as a reward. As if able to read your mind or feeling the way you constricted around his length, Neil met your haze and raised his hand to place it between your thighs. Thumb on the clit, circling the bud with a rhythm that by now he knew would work. Just like that. Without you ever having to ask.

The realisation alone was why you could not stay quiet any longer.

“Neil-” a pathetic sob interrupted the sentence with no aim in sight, so the rest came out in a rush, barely aware of what you were saying, “You’re perfect,”

It didn’t make the words any less true. Any less real.

But still, it was not something he anticipated. Neil glanced at you, and before he could school his features into a less vulnerable expression, you noticed hints of uncertainty. Something else was there, too, occupying the dark depths of his pupils and shining through the greyish blue of his irises. It was gone before you could identify it, but you considered tattooing the exact shade of his eyes on your skin the morning after. You felt like it might match the shade of your heart tomorrow.

“You stole my line” there was no genuine grievance in the look he gave you, instantly bucking his hips into yours to make you swear and shiver. You were so close now. The edges of your vision were growing fuzzy again as you felt your inner muscles contract and squeeze around him, eliciting another groan and a sigh that matched the words echoing in your head, “Jesus Christ…” it took him another second of composure to find the words that only confirmed your suspicions “Cupid, I’m not gonna-” using his seconds of distraction, you leaned forward to deepen the contact and covered his mouth with yours, interrupting the sentence.

With the kiss, as hungry and devouring as always, you hoped to convey everything you could not tell him. That he mattered. That you were beginning to worry he had ruined you for anybody else. Ever. That although you would try, nothing would ever be the same again.  Neil took the kiss with an eagerness that was still somehow startling. He nipped and licked at your lips, ensuring they stayed red and swollen. Only when another moan escaped the confines of his mouth and made it impossible to continue the kiss, you broke the contact and met his delirious gaze with a smile. You could feel his rhythm stutter and wane as he visibly approached orgasm. There was just one thing left to about it.

“Come for me” although piecing together a sentence was a struggle, the reward in the form of Neil’s muffled curse and full-body shudder was worth it. You watched as his abdomen muscles tensed, and he began thrusting with no rhythm or pace, helping you chase the feeling that was just around the corner. Leaning forward again, you placed your hand over his head and whispered into his ear, “Now,”

The word acted like a trigger. Neil stiffened in your embrace, his hands seeking out your waist and holding tight. Without thinking, you rested your forehead against his and felt him fill you to the brim. Warmth spread through your core, making you clench around him one last time before your body gave in. White sparks filled your vision as you closed your eyes and entangled your fingers in his hair. You could finally let go. A pleasured scream rang through the silence of the room as you collapsed, limbs falling lifelessly against his sturdy form. For a split second of stupid indulgence, you let yourself believe that Neil would always be there to catch you.

But that wasn’t a happy ending people like you wanted. Or deserved.

You were half aware of what came after. Of how your body trembled in Neil’s embrace and how he whispered your favourite nickname repeatedly, filling the word with enough affection to bruise your heart purple. You knew you should cut this short to prevent the inevitable awkwardness that almost always followed as fast as possible. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, you snuggled into the crook of his neck and inhaled, feeling the ache in your body. It would hurt like a bitch tomorrow, you were sure. But for now, you focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the comfort of his hands resting on your naked waist and back. By some miracle, it seemed like Neil was one of the few men who did not mind your desire to snuggle and breathe instead of quickly dismissing whatever transpired between you as an unimportant rendezvous on the timelines of your lives.

Yet, soon enough, you had to break the silence. The best way you knew how.

“You’re such a good boy” as soon as the words left your mouth, carried on a teasing tone, and accompanied by the smirk hidden in his neck, Neil’s comforting touch stilted.

Judging by the hitch in his chest and an ill-disguised cough, he choked on the breath intake. Even in the confused depths of your mind, you had to admit it was rather adorable. And it most definitely did the trick by diffusing the tension caused by the deafening silence and your synched-up heartbeats, which had no right to exist. Not here. Not ever.

“You’re incorrigible” laughter rang through the letters in his response as Neil chuckled dryly and resumed the caress, letting his fingers skim up and down the ridges of your spine.

You never wanted to move again.

That’s why it was high time to do so.

“You love it, though,” the rebuttal was easy to conjure as you lifted on your forearms and slid off his body with an apologetic smile. The gasp at the loss of contact and emptiness that followed was inevitable but also necessary. Laying down on your side so that you could see his face, you spoke, “Damn, that was…” before any accurate adjective could be found, Neil turned onto his side, mirroring your position and met your gaze, striking you mute in the process.

There was something indescribable there. A vastness of emotions you could not decipher without delving into that scary territory of your understanding that was never meant to be breached. Especially not like this. Not right now.

So, instead, you let your eyes take in his beauty, and the fading blush, complete with lips kissed raw and tangled hair. A look so thoroughly labelled as ‘freshly well-fucked’ that no other words were necessary or even advised. Even better so that you were the sole cause and reason. A point of pride, in fact.

“Good?” the joy in his gaze was enough reason to banish the strange thoughts and focus on the fact that his question demanded an answer.

As much as you were almost positive Neil knew just how damn good the sex had been, it still seemed like he wanted to hear it from you. You were happy to comply.

“Very good” a smug grin was complimented by the satisfaction Neil was bound to see in your radiant gaze.

Strengthening the point, you shifted closer to him to place your hand over his heart and winked. It did the job. Neil flashed you a bashful smile and leaned over to press a peck onto the crown of your head. That was an unprecedented act. Something that had never happened before. Terrifying in its novelty.

The realisation was enough to make you sit up and gather the covers to gain at least an illusion of modesty. A glance at the alarm clock told you how late it was, with the digits flashing a remorseful 02:27 AM. It was high time to make a move.

Without waiting for Neil to catch up with the drastic changes in your demeanour, you reached towards the chair next to the bed, where your dressing gown had landed that morning due to marvellous luck and got up to put it on in one, practised move. Only then could you look back at Neil to say:

“I’ll be right back,” sending him a smile that was hopefully neutral enough so that he would not understand the depths of your inner turmoil, you turned on your heel and waltzed out of the bedroom straight down the corridor to the bathroom.

Once the door had been closed, you let out a relieved sigh and met your crazed gaze in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your lips were kissed red, telling a simple tale. As were the faint pink marks left on your neck, which would require concealer tomorrow. It was all worth it. You knew as much without having to search your heart. At least now you understood what it was that you craved so badly. How it felt and how it tasted. Now you knew what about Neil made you feel so insane.

And now, knowing all of it, you also understood that just once would not be enough. It couldn’t be.

Armed with that knowledge and the particular pain of realisation that often accompanied those hard-hitting truths concerning interpersonal relationships, you also knew what you needed to happen. You had to do everything in your might to keep Neil close. To ensure you would not lose a dear friend so quickly after gaining him.

As you stared at the bathroom floor tiles, you reminded yourself of the crucial detail that it was all in Neil’s hands. He would be the one dealing the cards. The one deciding what awaited you next. The best you could do was be yourself and not scare him off prematurely. Easy, right?

A quiet scoff answered the rhetorical question as you dried your hands with a towel and turned towards the door again. Now onto the harder part…

If there was one rule you had, one that you never, ever crossed no matter the circumstances, it was that you never stayed for the night or invited whoever you had sex with to stay over at your place. Simple. Except for that first time you had to bring it up with someone new. Like now.

Before you could even consider deciding how to go about it or how to signal what you needed to happen without making the situation painfully awkward, you walked out into the corridor to see Neil standing in the doorway of your bedroom. He was finishing buttoning up the shirt and met your gaze with an understanding smile:

“I’ll get going” no matter how hard you looked, you could not see hurt or grudge in his eyes or in the shrug he sent as he put on the tie and tightened the knot.

That was certainly a relief. A cop-out, but you were not the one to argue with fate when it offered easy wins. But-

“Are you sure?” you had to ask.

Not that you were willing to break the rule, but you had to know that he was okay with it. Because, for some unknown reasons, what Neil felt and thought seemed important in ways you did not begin to understand. It was just a fact.

“Yeah. It’s late anyway” the assured look in his eyes told you there was no point in prodding further. Instead, you watched as he put on the vest and fastened the buttons. Before you could get lost in thoughts, Neil spoke again, “Thanks, though, it was… a very memorable night” the hint of a smile in his voice was clarified by the bright grin he offered.

It was a wild, sharp thing that always felt so right on his face that you wondered how come he was not smiling all the time. Although that could cheapen the effect, you noticed upon a second thought.

The grin almost made you ignore the affection in his gaze. Almost.

“That it was” the blush on your cheeks was no longer as rare an occurrence as you wanted it to be, so you tried to hide it by glancing at the floor instead of holding his all-seeing gaze. The sentiment stayed true, “Message me when you get home?” it was another question that had to be asked although you could not understand why, “So that I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere?” because that concern was also something new.

You never cared quite so much. Never before. It was worrying in ways that made you want to hide your head in the sand and never poke out again for fear of the consequences crashing on top of it. But life rarely offered such mercies.

“Of course, Cupid” feeling Neil approach, you looked up in time to see him close the awkward gap between you.

He passed you in the corridor, the cuff of his shirt brushing against your arm as he raised his hand, visibly hesitating. Tilting your head in a silent question, you waited for him to decide. The resolution came in the form of his hand cupping your cheek for the briefest of seconds. The touch was gone before you could react, but the ghost of it stayed behind as you whispered:

“Thank you” it was another sentiment that needed no prompt or inspiration; it was just a fact.

Something that sprung from your heart like an overeager daffodil seedling breaking through the frozen February soil. Too early and bound to freeze before it could ever bloom into life.

“For?” Neil stopped in the doorway to the living room and stared back at you.

The expression on his face was impossible to puzzle out. It almost made everything easier. Easier to risk the freezing for the chance of elaborating on what you wanted him to know.

“Everything, really,” shrugging, you offered Neil a smile.

Not the sharp, dangerous grin he knew too well. No, it was a gentle thing; so ill-fitting of what you thought you understood about yourself.

But perhaps you understood nothing.

Not too long later, you heard him open the door to your apartment and let himself out quietly. You padded to the living room and picked up the used dirty wine glasses and the empty bottle. For a second, you contemplated smashing the bottle against your head to stop thinking. Then you realised the blood loss was probably not worth the passing relief. Probably.

***

Staring at the depths of the coffee in his mug, Neil sighed heavily for the umpteenth time within the past three hours that passed since waking up. Waking up in the new world, he unhelpfully added upon opening his eyes. As if his brain conspired to fuck him over, Neil could not stop thinking about it. About her. And everything that happened. All to the point that he barely slept within the odd four hours he snatched between stumbling into his apartment past 3 AM and waking up with a curse on his lips sometime after 7 AM. There was no sleep to be found after, so he gave up.

Visit to the gym did not cause any miracles either, but at least now he was free to sit on the sofa and stare into space. As if that would help. It is not even that anything was wrong. Or that he regretted the previous evening because he certainly did not. He did not. Everything that happened was something he wanted. Starting from the not-so-smooth seduction and ending with making her come. Three times. Not to be smug or anything. He wanted her. Full stop.

And now, having gotten the taste, Neil also knew that the desire would not stop there. She would not be just a box on a checklist, ticked and forgotten. Cupid was not someone he could forget. Even with the current prognosis, which was not optimistic. Because she laid out the modus operandi from day one. There would be no fantastic love story culminating with a kiss in the rain in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Not even because of the high risk of being run over by a car.

Yet, still, being an idiot, Neil could not help but think. About her. About their evening. About how it felt. About what he wanted to happen next. All the while knowing that not much could happen beyond it. And nothing without Cupid’s will and desire for it. That knowledge did not help the thoughts or dilemmas playing out in his head.

With another heavy sigh, Neil got up from the sofa and walked over to the radio to put on music. If he was to suffer, he might as well do so with the accompaniment of bops. In the truest meaning of the word. Yet, the algorithm must have held a grudge against him, too, for he barely managed to down the remains of his coffee before trouble started. It all came crashing down with the voice of Simon Le Bon and a song Neil knew too well. Usually, he enjoyed it. Usually, there was nothing particularly stinging about this song. Usually, the opening synths and the bass rhythm did not elicit a groan and make him hide his face in his hands. Usually.

‘And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance

But fear is in your soul

Some people call it a one-night stand

But we can call it paradise

Don't say a prayer for me now

Save it 'til the morning after’

When the bridge came, along with the final chorus of the damned song, Neil was seething. Be it with rage or utter frustration. The accuracy of what was so beautifully sung by Duran Duran did not escape his attention. Or the fact that this was the first one-night stand he could not just let go. The first time, Neil was wallowing in self-pity and confusion at the state of his feelings and thoughts because of a hook-up.

Or what was supposed to be just a hook-up.

The problem was Neil was beginning to worry it was not just that. That it couldn’t be. And it was a terrible realisation to have. It made him want to be hit by a car on Piccadilly Circus. Or on the Oxford Street. He was not picky.

Quietly cursing every star on the firmament and the sparks in Cupid’s eyes, he reached for the phone and automatically opened the text conversation with the woman in question. Their last texts offered no respite from the suffering with how she bid him a good night after Neil informed her that he had found his way back home unscathed. It took him another two minutes to get his shit together and dial the number with a press of the correct icon on the screen.

Feeling the heartbeat in his throat as he awaited her to pick up the call, Neil stood up from the sofa and began pacing the living room. The seconds stretched into infinity, almost making him talk himself into ending the attempt and blaming the call on a mistake. Before he could act on the cowardice coursing in his veins, the click on the line followed by her voice acted like a heavy curtain, shutting off every doubt and uncertainty until all that remained was Cupid:

“Hi,” the breathlessness in her voice made it seem like she was not anticipating the call.

As if it caught her by surprise. Neil winced against the observation, forcing himself to reply.

“Hello. How are you?” even to his ears, the innocent question sounded strained.

It betrayed the motifs before he was ready to disclose them. His pacing has brought him to the window, so he stayed there, leaning against the sill.

An intake of breath from Cupid broke the silence before she replied:

“Good, great even. Achy as fuck, but then I got up to stuff last night, as you’d know” the slight nervousness in her quiet giggle sounded off, out of place among the implications.

The infuriating blush Neil did not seem able to get rid of even when closer to the age of thirty, made an appearance again. It bloomed across his cheekbones like weeds, making him hang his head with shame despite being the only one present in the room. Ever so helpful, his bitch of a brain chose this moment to show him a reel of last night’s events. Cupid underneath the stage lights, dancing with grace in every step. Her laughter upon the streets of Soho. The feel of her naked skin underneath his hands. The taste of her upon his tongue- Yeah, message received.

“Yeah, I was there” the ridiculous feeling of pride entered the crowded stage of his heart.

Before Neil could attempt to shrug it off, Cupid spoke again:

“You were. I remember you” her tone lowered almost imperceptibly, yet enough so Neil would notice. The low timbre spread across his chest with warmth as she added, “Vividly” the emphasis made everything worse as it awakened the exact shade of yearning he wanted to banish for eternity “Neil, I know you didn’t just call me to ask how my morning is going” the matter-of-fact turn in her voice was the wake-up call he needed.

It reminded Neil about the true purpose of the call and what he needed to say. Now, ideally. He took another deep breath, aware of the prolonged silence on the line and the rapid beat of his heart. It took him another second to convince convincing himself to speak the words into existence. All with the grace of an elephant stumbling over the vowels and tripping on the consonants:

“No... But it’s- I’ve never done this before. I had one-night stands, but not with someone like you” the ending came out in a rush as Neil tried to get it out as fast as possible without further embarrassment.

Although he knew that it was too late for those kinds of worries anyway. He was already a personification of shame in all meanings of the word.

The laugh he expected from Cupid upon such a pathetic display did not come. Instead, he got a quiet huff, which was hard to interpret with his lacklustre detective skills and a question carried on a soft tone:

“Not with a friend?” to Neil’s surprise, she did not sound judgemental or sarcastic, as if making a joke on his expanse.

Admittedly, it was what he anticipated, knowing how the sentence sounded and what it conveyed. Knowing what a loser he was, confessing the facts instead of pretending to be someone he was not. Instead of doing what he usually did.

For whatever reason, Neil increasingly often found that he did not want to pretend with Cupid. He particularly enjoyed those moments when it felt like she saw him and enjoyed the picture revealed. It was at once terrifying and exhilarating. It was what made him turn on the heel to press his back against the wall by the window and slide down to sit on the floor, risking yet another admission:

“Yeah, exactly. And like- It was amazing. It really was, but now I’m… I’m so… confused” the word hardly covered the state of his mind since waking up, but it had to do for now.

Somehow, Neil knew she would understand. She would find meaning within the stammers and pauses, interrupting the incoherent reasoning. She was smart like that.

Because the clue of the matter was that there were no regrets. No particle of his soul that wished last night did not happen. It’s just that he didn’t know what was coming next. If anything at all.

“I get it. It’s uncharted territory for you” once Cupid spoke again, Neil tried to determine her feelings on the topic from her voice. There was nothing to interpret apart from thoughtfulness and the desire to understand. To understand him, of all people. A feat few attempted and even fewer succeeded at, “From my point of view, nothing has to change between us. But I don’t think last night has to be a one-off. It could happen again” the meaning of her words took a while to sink, and even longer to be processed by his brain, slowed by incompetence and whatever charm she had him under. When it did, Neil sat up straighter, a rare sense of excitement tugging at his gut and making him open his eyes wider “If you wanted it to” the addition was almost a footnote.

Because, of course, he wanted to. He would be a fool not to. Right?

The enthusiastic reply was almost at the tip of his tongue, but the remains of dignity stepped in at the right time. Instead, Neil let the silence speak, taking a moment to ask the second most terrifying question. If not the first.

“And what about you?” the fate of his self-respect was placed upon the pedestal made of four words.

Ready to be crumbled with just one sleigh of her hand. While Neil knew Cupid enjoyed what he did to her (and with her), there was no guarantee. No way of knowing without asking her first. Now, all he could do was wait.

Wait and listen to her breathing through the phone, trying and miserably failing at not hanging upon each exhalation as if it were a sentence determining the rest of his life. Luckily, Cupid was not the one to make him wait in misery for too long.

“I’d definitely want a repeat” the certainty in her voice felt like a rush of blood to his head.

It was tinted with that shade of playfulness he considered her trademark. It was barely there, but still, it made everything easier. Brighter.

Now Neil did not even try to fight off the grin from his face as he asked:

“Yeah?” it was just another lousy trick to make her confirm what should have been obvious but was not.

At least not to his stupid brain, burdened with the eternal fear of not being enough. Ever. For anyone. Not even as a friend that you occasionally shag.

“Yes,” Cupid did not hesitate, humouring him joyfully.

Or at least that is how Neil interpreted the light chuckle that followed the reply. It eased the burden a little, but soon he found another pressing question that needed answering. Should they continue… whatever it was that was happening. Phrases like the infamous ‘friends with benefits’ started floating around his head, but for the time being, Neil brushed them away.

“So, if we did… do it again, what are the ground rules?” the clumsy wording was something he could do without, but alas, there was no choice.

He could only hope that Cupid would ignore the failure. It was the very next thing he needed to settle. The rules of play, per se. It was a completely new territory for him, something he had never done or entertained because there was no reason to. No person was worth the confusion. But now- Yeah, now there was. And Neil had no fucking clue how it all made him feel. Or whether he was not making the mistake of his life by even considering the concept. Still, he ignored the idea as Cupid broke the silence with a factual voice:

“No staying over afterwards for the night, and you must tell me if you find someone to be with for real. I don’t want to be the mythical other woman” the business-like tone suggested what Neil already knew – this was not the first time for her.

Far from it. He added a strange pinprick of jealousy to the ongoing list of feelings and thoughts to be ignored and rested his forehead against his folded knees.

The simplicity of the do’s and don’ts was undeniable. Still, it was impossible to tell how bad of a decision it would be on the endless spectrum of ‘ways to fuck up’ that Neil knew too well. From experience.

“Okay,” he nodded, although she would not see it and risked another question. To calm the running thoughts before they escaped his control entirely, “Is it fine if I think about it for a while?”

The pros were easy to think of. If he agreed, this one night would not have to be the only time Neil would have her. He could keep acting on what came to him so effortlessly when near Cupid. He could touch and kiss her as he pleased, whenever he wanted, without first worrying whether it would destroy their friendship.

But the cons were not hard to come by either. Adding sex into the equation often destroyed the friendship on its own. Neil was not sure whether he could trust himself to be as detached emotionally as the situation required him to be. He would never actually have her. Not that he wanted to. Because he didn’t. He didn’t.

“Sure thing, sunshine. We don’t have to change anything right now” her steady reassurance stopped the increasingly frantic thought processes and filled his chest with warmth.

Neil never knew he was a fan of nicknames. Of being called sunshine. But apparently, he was.

The sudden wave of peace settling over his head was the only sign that the conversation was successful. He has reached at least some sort of clarity. Even if he still had no clue what the hell he was supposed to do.

“I’ll see you Wednesday. Like always?” the pathetic edge to that question did not escape him.

But it was impossible to end the call without asking. Without checking whether Neil had something to look forward to. Without ensuring that they were okay.

At this point, Neil did not even try to pretend that Wednesdays did not become his favourite day of the week. For absolutely no reason.

“Yeah, you will” the internal debate about whether he actually could hear her wink got quickly interrupted by Cupid’s question, “And Neil?” a noncommittal hum had to do instead of a reply, what with his brain becoming a lost cause. Still, it was impossible not to wait on her addition with bated breath and heartbeat thundering in his ears. You know, like a normal person would “You know I can’t offer you a relationship, but what we have still means a lot to me. It’s not every day that I have sex this good with my best friend” this time, Neil could definitely hear the sly smile in her voice.

That strange smugness and pride returned to fill his chest with warmth and painted a grin on his face. It was the highest of praises. Both because Cupid admitted that whatever they had was worth her time and attention and because she confirmed that the previous night was… satisfying. It was a challenge not to let that get into his head, successfully distracting Neil from any other thought he could have had.

He was a simple man, alright? One spoonful of praise placed at his feet, and he was done for. In all meaning of the word.

“No?” the joy was audible in his voice as he risked a tease, “I’m such a lucky bastard, then” it was barely an overstatement.

Even if it all was to backfire spectacularly and bite him in the ass soon, Neil felt lucky. Lucky that Cupid wanted to waste her time on him. Even for a wink of her time.

And yes, he knew he sounded like a pathetic simp. He was aware of it, thank you very much.

“You are” her laughter still rang in his ear as she whispered a necessary goodbye, “I’ll talk to you soon,” for once, Neil felt no need to question her promise.

No reason to doubt.

“Bye, Cupid,” his farewell was met with another chuckle before the woman in question ended the phone call.

Slowly, Neil put down the phone and raised his head to stare at the ceiling. The white paint was occasionally spruced up with cobwebs, reminding him just how long had passed since he had last deep cleaned the apartment. A sigh had to do before Neil got up from the floor and turned up the music.

Duran Duran had nothing on him now. Surely.

[tartigglez]

Hello tumblr user that I don’t know

May i please suggest Zhongli and the orange heart emoji? xoxoxoxoxox

~tulip anon (i cant get to my emojisss)

"ten-twenty"

tartigglez 100 follower event!

・❥・hello dear tumblr user who i also don't know! i hope this is satisfactory

・❥・zhongli x gn!reader

・❥・0.5k

・❥・zhongli is sick (poor babie), food (soup for sick!li), zhongli doesn't understand mortal sickness, modern au, (idk why i'm warning for this but some people are grossed out by it) li blows his nose at one point

zhongli x 🧡

as an archon, sickness did not apply to zhongli. it was a problem that he never faced. so when his mortal form came down with a case of the cold, it was quite literally the most dramatic he had been with you in a very long time. 

it was actually quite funny, hearing his voice go all nasally and having such a graceful and uptight man laying on your sofa as you made soup for him. of course, he didn’t find it very funny when you giggled at him. 

“dear~ please stop laughing, i feel so… what’s the thing you say? ippy?”

you couldn’t control your laughter, “icky, zhong. icky.” of course you wouldn’t laugh at him if something was seriously wrong, but right now he was just a little under the weather, and would be walking around liyue like nothing had happened in a couple of days time. 

“i finally understand what you mean when you say that. it’s not nice” 

“i know its not nice dear, here.” you brought a bowl of the soup over to him, as well as a box of tissues. giving him a moment to sit up, you got the thermometer off the coffee table and checked his temperature again, and to your surprise it actually wasn’t too badly out of range. then you handed him the box of tissues so he could blow his nose. 

“so, what is it i do again? just, exhale into it?” gosh he was clueless, how adorable. then again, how could you blame him? it's not like archons are built the same as humans, nor do they have the same bodily functions or needs, it's just a change for him, that’s all. 

“yes, but hard, so you can get all the icky out”

“i can’t help but feel like you’re using that word wrong” 

you looked at him with mock insult, mouth wide as you placed your hand on your chest. “well excuse me, master of linguistics!”

“haha~ i jest my dear”

after eating the bowl of soup, and making yet another pathetic attempt at blowing his nose, zhongli asked you to come back into the living room, inviting you to sit beside him, which you humbly declined, much to his dismay. opting to sit on the armchair opposite him instead

“dear, why won’t you sit near me?”

“‘li, you do realise… how sickness spreads… right?”

“uhm… yes”

“tell me how”

“well, when mortals…”

“when mortals…?” you gazed at him, raising an eyebrow.

“fine, it is in fact… a gap in my knowledge. but, i did read somewhere, that a true loves kiss cures all ails”

“archons, ‘li. you do know those books are fiction right?” you giggled at him again, laughing at his cluelessness. for someone who has spent his whole existence protecting mortals, he doesn’t seem to know much about their actual workings.

“uhm… well… you should try it anyway! kiss me better!”

let's just say, the day ended with a very long winded biology lesson about the transmission of viruses....

© tartigglez, 2023. do not copy, translate or repost

[sitp-recs]

I come to order the fics with a good amount of tasty content, you understand me. Something I've noticed (or I'm unable to find on my own) are sexual pollen-themed fanfics (in this case it could also be potions?) The fact is that I look for some fanfic where they are accidentally sprayed with something similar and end up together in some way:3

Hi anon! I’m a bit picky with sex pollen dubcon and don’t read it often so this list is on the short side, but here are some recs for you. I’m sure my followers will be able to share more!

Finding a Cure by @slytherco (E, 4k)

When an antidote mixup leaves Harry under the influence of a lust potion, stranded with Draco in his office after hours, there aren’t many things they can do. Leave it to Draco to do just the right ones.

Incident Reports (That's Not How May Queen Works Remix) by megyal (M, 5k)

Only you, mate, Ron says, and doused with May Queen, honestly, and can't wait for this report.

Sex Ed for Aurors by curiouslyfic (M, 9k)

Some things, you need to learn on the job.

plasticine porters with looking-glass ties by @bonesliketambourines (E, 15k)

Lately, Harry thinks things don’t seem the same between him and Draco. His head is in the clouds when he thinks about what their relationship is now, and where it might be headed—he’s happy with their friendship, but he wants something else. A potions accident over a lunchtime visit to Draco’s lab (what does he get up to in there, anyway?) changes things, though, and accelerates their relationship faster than either of them had ever expected. How are they going to get through this new development together?

Lusimeles by spqr (E, 23k)

“You’re not special, Potter,” Kingsley informs him, not looking up from his work. “But I’ve already done Occlumency training!” Harry splutters, indignant. “And it’s Malfoy.”

Once More With Feeling by InnerLilith (E, 28k)

Draco is dosed with a consummation-compelling potion, with Harry Potter as his intended. It’s a cruel irony, because he’s wanted Potter for years. But not like this. In which the boys try to deal with the fallout from an excruciating fuck-or-die, and end up with much more than either of them expected.

Symptom of Your Touch by NoxNoir (E, 115k)

St. Mungo's Healer Draco Malfoy is used to being pushed to his limits when providing aide to the ailing, but when an unexpected encounter with an out of character Harry Potter throws his life out of balance one night, he is forced to ask himself how far he's willing to push his own levels of discomfort to be of aid to a man in need of help that only he can provide. And once that need for aid is over, how will he find balance in his life again?

[marinas-drafts]

much like Elvis insisted Linda Thompson on cooking his meals because she made it with “tlc”, I would imagine he would want Gigi to do the same and she would most definitely be more than happy to oblige and satisfy his craving of 2-3 burgers, smothered in his favorite toppings, at 4 am

I just cannot wait to read how this girl takes care of Elvis in the next chapter, even the less “pretty” parts of caretaking (fleets enemas ifykyk) are still so comforting to read 😭 big daddy has the biggest place in my heart and I just want that man to be spoiled and nurtured

(also I’m begging for him to get some “physical relief”, he needs to pop a viagra or two and get to work for Gigi’s sake and his)

Oh she’s on it -and it’s a good thing he likes burnt food because that’s all she knows how to make, Mary hovers in the kitchen just to make sure there is no fire emergency. But yes, you best believe this girl uses all that energy to bound down the stairs in the dead of night to fix that man whatever would cure what ails him at the moment.

Also…thank you for expressing interest in all the aspects of caretaking or honestly -loving a person where they’re at. Human bodies fail us and there’s nothing more humiliating of estranging for someone who’s been capable and impressive to suddenly be unable to count on their own carcass, or gut or brain or anything else that we aren’t promised tomorrow with. And so with Elvis, to me, if we’re doing a fic when we now know he was literally dying, we should keep it’s trappings. Do I want Gigi to ask why the hell he’s doing fleet instead of coffee when his liver is so bad? Yes, yes I do

…pop a viagra or two you say, hmm…

[sablesides-writing-corner]

My Muse's Mirror (Pt.2)

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

The dread set in once Virgil realized it was nearly five in the morning and Roman still hadn't come in to tell him to go to bed.

It wasn't the kind of dread that made him think his beloved was dying of course, but it was dread nonetheless.

“Roman? Is everything ok? Are you just asleep?” Virgil whispered as he approached the main bedroom.

The racking chorus of coughs that followed was all the answer he needed.

“Right! Well- you are not going into work tomorrow- and I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight-” Virgil said, Roman only responded with a feeble thumbs up and another outburst of coughing.

It was going to be a long night.

Virgil plopped himself back down on the couch, mourning the loss of warmth at not sleeping in the same bed as his knight in shining bother, but safety was safety- he wasn't about to get himself sick and risk not being able to take care of Roman.

Roman still wasn't awake by the time Virgil tore himself up off the couch, electing to start the day with a completely normal and healthy 3 cups straight of coffee with extra extra sugar.

Then it was time to get started on The Soup.

The Soup, as Virgil remembered it, was a longtime ancestral recipe of his families, which was supposed to cure any sickness, and hey, it did its job on him when he was a kid, why not try it out now.

So Virgil got out the biggest cooking pot he could find, and got to work.

It was a long, grueling, sweaty few hours later when the thing was finally done, and the kitchen smelled so alarmingly of backyard herbs that Virgil wouldn't be surprised if the smell was still there by Christmas.

And, just in time, he heard the dismayed groaning of Roman finally waking up from what Virgil could probably only describe as a brief coma.

“Alright big guy- I've got something that might help” Virgil said as he finished ladelling some of The Soup into a bowl.

“I feel like I got hit by like. Six buses.” was all Roman could manage to get out.

“Summer sickness'll do that to you- now eat up before I start spooning it in for you,” Virgil said with a laugh. Once he was sure Roman would finish the food on his own he went back to the kitchen to get the rest of The Soup into a suitable container.

He also took it upon himself to call into Roman's work to confirm his sick day- or days, if necessary- and muttered a silent prayer that it was his nice coworker that answered the phone this time.

Then it was time for the dreaded family phone call.

“Where is my ailing baby brother! I've got presents!” Remus called as he burst through the door.

“Remus that was locked,” said Virgil in exasperation.

“Oh- well! It's probably not broken!” Responded the man, ruffling Virgil's hair- as if it wasn't messy enough already from the humidity in the kitchen.

“He's still moping around in bed, hasn't gotten up pretty much all day,” Virgil answered Remus’ earlier question.

“Shouldn't be contagious- seems like it's just a cold so we're hoping it'll go away soon,” Virgil said, pulling out his drawing tablet while Remus had his little visiting hour with his brother.

It was a few hours before Remus left, and Virgil felt like his social battery was almost completely worn out.

“You know, you could still go to the carnival without me- if it's still in town,” Roman said in a raspy tone from the bedroom.

“I mean what else am I gonna do? Buy more jewelry?” Virgil said.

“I mean it! I think it'd be fun to hang out on your own for a bit- or invite Janus or something-” Roman continued, he seemed. . . Urgent. . . About it, almost weirdly so.

“I- alright- alright fine- I'll just- call Janus I guess-” Virgil said, pulling out his cellphone.

“So. . . Where did you say this carnival was? I thought it was open till the end of next month?” Janus said, looking around confused at the very much empty lot.

“Well. I can say it was here yesterday because I have picture- maybe something happened and they had to-” Virgil paused for a second as something glinted in the corner of his eye. He took a few steps towards whatever it was, and found a pendant lying on the ground, a spider holding a large purple gem hanging off of the chain.

“This that necklace you were going on about?” Janus asked, Virgil nodded, eyes still transfixed on the jewelry.

“Well, they left it here, their loss I guess- shall we?” Janus asked.

Virgil still didn't respond. Something about the necklace was. . . Familiar. . . He just wasn't entirely sure what.

“Virgil. . . Virgil. . . Virgil!” Virgil was finally jolted back into realty by the sound of his cousin's yelling in the background.

“Oh! Uh- sorry- got uh- distracted-” Virgil responded, Janus looked bemused.

“Let's- let's just get home ok? I think you've got a stuffy nosed prince to be looking after, hm?”

“I uh- yeah. . . Yeah. . .”

He'd worry about the necklace later, after he washed it off thoroughly.

Roman still wasn't any better when he got home, which was expected- Virgil hadn't thought he'd cured him, but he'd at least expected him to get a little better.

But he'd been wrong- in fact Roman almost seemed to have gotten worse. . .

“Goodnight hun,” Virgil said as he left the bathroom to go lay down on the couch.

He stared at the necklace in his hands for a long time, turning it over in his palms, running his thumb along the purple gem in the center.

He knew this necklace from somewhere. . . He just couldn't remember. And that was very, very inconvenient.

He set the pendant down on the table next to the couch and decided to leave the pondering for tomorrow, worrying about it now wouldn't do him any good, probably. . .

[mickimomo]

To Beg for A Wife

More Oni x Namora shenanigans

@umber-cinders watered my brain again:

Here's what I'm seeing:

Oni walked down the stone corridor of the temple and retreated to her room.

The day had been long and draining. The need for sleep pulling her dragging feet forward.

It only took sixty seconds for her to settle in her bed before closing her eyes and drifting off into the realm of dreams.

Oni's dreams weren't normal.

They could be plagued with visions or haul her into a land that existed between the ancestral plane and the plane of the living.

A domain where Bast could talk freely with her vessel about anything she wished.

Tonight's conversation was about Oni's fifth incident with the warrior of Talokan.

One steamy indirect kiss had nearly ended with the talokanil general naked and screwed into the sparring mats.

The only reason it hadn't happened was a kimoyo call from Cebisa, requesting her assistance.

The giant panther narrowed her eyes at the kneeling priestess. "Oni, Daughter of Zuri. I have warned you four times, and you have refused to heed my warnings." She snarled. "Why do you refuse to listen?"

"Forgive me, Bast... but I've told you many times before that I truly wish to court this warrior."

"Oni-"

"-have you never loved someone?"

"This is not love."

"It is!"

"It is lust."

"It is more than lust!"

"More than lust!?"

"Yes."

"It cannot be love. You are not allowed to love. So tell me... what is it!?"

"My soul yearns for hers."

"Then you are breaking vows!"

"But-"

"-I am being benevolent." The panther scowled. "I have let you slide across the border with your feelings one too many times. You yearned to stain your hands with blood, and I granted it. Why are you wishing for more!? Who are you to be selfish?"

Oni's eyes stung with tears. "I am alone. Is it wrong to wish for a companion. Am I undeserving of love?"

"With love comes corruption."

"Corruption?"

"If I grant you permission to marry this warrior and consummate as traditions instruct- what will you do when they break your heart?" The panther stared holes into the priestess. "What will you do if her soul yearns for anothers?"

"She won't-"

"How do you know?"

"The ways of her people-"

"I am asking about her. Not her people."

"I just know she won't. The way Namora and I coexist... it's as if our souls were carved of the same stone."

"How do you know she will not break your heart, Oni?"

"I don't know!" Tears began to fall as she lowered her head in frustration. "But how do you know she won't? What if she never does!? Am I supposed to deny her because of one possibility?"

"Oni, humans are fickle."

"She's not like normal humans. She's not even from the surface world."

"Her heart beats the same."

"You don't know her like I do."

"I know enough about this warrior to write a biography about her."

"Then you should understand why I have feelings for her!"

"We have this argument almost every night, and my answer remains no."

"You want me to grow up miserable and alone while the world moves on. You want me to die in a cage full of unfulfilled dreams. Bitter and brewing with envy, I tried to hide." Her tears raced down her face. "These vows are corrupting me! Not the world."

"These vows were not made to cage you, but to save you."

"Save me from what!?!"

"The world!" The bared her teeth at the priestess. "You are my vessel. An avatar of sorts. My power flows through you, granting strengths that exceed even some of the greatest on this planet." The panther circled Oni with her tail swaying with anger. "Your blood can heal and cure the world of anything that ails it. You have foresight that can lead nations to great heights and the strength that could set the world ablaze." The diety sat down. "You are as close to a diety as man can get. That makes you a weapon to the wicked and a tool to the pure."

"What would I be to a lover?"

"Mankind cannot love you."

"My father loved me. T'Challa. Queen Ramonda." She listed. "What about Shuri and Okoye?"

"Familial and platonic."

"What about-"

"DO NOT SPEAK THEIR NAME."

Oni shrank under the goddess' voice.

Bast exhaled and closed her eyes. "Your father's death led to you slaughtering your own people. Is that not reason enough to guard your own heart?"

"How can I guard it when I hold Namora's in my hand?"

The goddess growled before opening her eyes.

Oni's stubbornness and persistence were always mining away at her patience.

"If I give you one thing, you will ask for another."

"You are benevolent. I would not ask for something that would offend you." She bowed her head out of respect. "I am only begging to have a wife."

The goddess stared at her.

"Then let's rework the vows that forbid you from marrying and being intimate with another."

Oni perked up, but kept her head low. "Ok."

"You will only be allowed to be with one soul in this lifetime. Your physical union will tie them to your very being. They will appear in this domain and share your burdens. They will die when you die. They will ache when you ache. They will lack peace when you lack peace." The goddess straightened her posture as she continued to look down at Oni. "If they do anything that I deem alarming, they will die a terrible death, and you will live out the rest of your days alone."

Oni stared up at the goddess. "Ok."

"Do you accept this deal?"

"Yes."

Bast let out a chuff. "Only you would be bold enough to beg me for a wife."

Oni lowered herself into a bow and pressed her forehead to the ground. "Thank you, Bast."

The diety stared at her long and hard before turning around. "You're welcome, my child."

Oni tried her hardest to now show how happy she was, but the goddess knew her well.

Bast let out a soft maternal chuckle before the dream came to an end.

[jwriterstuff]

Moi Rae Gon

“You must be truly desperate to seek aid here…” said the cloaked woman in the abandoned house at the top of the hill. A hole in the side where the wall had crumbled away, taking a portion of the roof with it, revealed the grey sky above that hung over the nearby town like a dreary blanket. She faced away from it, with her back to the door and her gaze upon the various tools that once belonged to the shepherd that lived there back when the town was but a small farming village. Before the world changed. “Or incredibly foolish,” she concluded.

The man, dressed in formal attire but with his own cloak protecting him, was taken aback by this sudden announcement for he had just entered the building and not yet introduced himself. Perhaps she had heard his footfalls and laboured breaths as he climbed the hill, but if the stories of the townsfolk were to be believed then she knew a great deal more than that. Before he could approach her, she spoke once again with a voice both as sharp as broken glass and soft as the finest velvet.

“Speak of your ails, he who is a stranger to these lands.”

Stuttering, he finally, through great effort, eked out the formations of a sentence, “The people of the town say that you can help those in need… That you can bend fate.”

“Aye, ‘tis true,” she confirmed, an audible smile curling on her lips in curiosity and intrigue.

“Well… you see. My son… he has fallen ill. The doctors and priests have tried everything but they cannot seem to cure what afflicts him. He has been bedridden for several weeks now and his health continues to decline. I don’t know… please help me.” His voice adopted a pleading, almost begging tone. It was clear that, in his exhaustion, his thoughts were not organised as they erupted from him in a deluge of worries. Anyone else would have looked at the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes and immediately sent him to bed, if they were understanding, or an asylum, if they were not. The woman, however, turned slightly, so he could see her side, rather than her back. Suddenly, another voice, one he was not familiar with yet still originating from her, spoke.

“Let me see him, sister-self,” it said.

“Is that wise, sister-self? He is dishevelled and weak, he is not deserving of our intervention,” replied the woman.

“Indeed, I wish to see his past with my own eyes.”

“Very well,” concluded the woman, who lifted a hand to her hood. Her skin, he noticed, was a perfect match for a clear midnight sky. Slowly, her almost-black-blue hand pulled down her hood, revealing a hairless head and the horrifying revelation of a face protruding from where her ear should have been. A smiling face with delicate features and intense, glowing blue eyes gazed at him from the side of the woman’s head, with her own, near identical face looking at him out of the corner of her own, burning red, eye.

“What?!” he exclaimed, “what is this?” He backed away slightly, his hand behind him feeling for the door while his eyes remained transfixed on this newfound horror.

“Pray tell, what did you think us to be?” said the blue-eyed woman.

“I don’t know! Some kind of wise woman or witch, perhaps, but definitely not this!”

“You need not be afraid of us, assuring you do nothing… unwise,” chimed the red-eyed one.

“Ah, yes, I see him now. He is a man who owns many large buildings, filled with machines for making cloth. He entreats people to come to these buildings and, in turn, makes them slaves to the ticking and whirling of his clock, exchanging them pittances of metals for their time, attention, and devotion. He was most pleased when the so-called salable magic came into being, created by the elf-blood overseas, as it granted him the power to make machines run by themselves and the power to have apathy for the people who once worked for him.”

A tremble had found its way into the man’s body as his feet betrayed his mind and refused to move. “How do you know all this?” he asked with all the caution of someone who had just trodden upon a landmine.

“We know all about you,” the blue-eyed woman’s smile had faded by this point as her mouth almost curled with a hint of disgust, “Richard Altmont.”

Icy terror gripped Altmont’s throat, fighting intensely with the panic that was bubbling up in the form of a frustrated shout, “What is this? Trying to scare me? Take advantage of me? WELL?!”. His eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for some kind of advantage. They hesitated, for just a moment, at the tools on the table where the woman was standing. Particularly, on the set of rusty shears.

“Would you attempt to kill us, Richard Altmont? Would you threaten our life so that we may give you what you want?”

“I don’t… I, uh-” He was cut off, by a third, and final, unfamiliar voice.

“Please, sisters-self. We will converse properly with this man. Whether of his own volition or through outside influence, he is reaching a crossroad and it is important we treat him properly.”

Finally, the woman turned to face him properly, revealing her full, tri-faced visage. On the left was the woman with blue eyes, whose delicate features told of her dislike of the man before them. In the middle was the woman with red eyes, whose more robust and weathered features stared him down with dispassionate study. Finally, the woman on the right had purple eyes and sported an aged face that seemed to look down upon him with condescension. All three sported the same, midnight blue skin and hairless head, creating an otherworldly image, like a painting created by an artist whose grasp on reality was beginning to leave them in their dying moments. Suddenly, the woman raised her arms and the space around them grew dark, as if the sun had suddenly set. The wind no longer howled through the shack and the grass no longer rustled in unison with it, not that Altmont gave his attention to anything that wasn’t what he was witnessing through his wide, frightened eyes. 

Slowly, the faces at the sides of the woman’s head began to pull themselves free of her form. Expecting a spray of blood and viscera, Altmont watched with morbid fascination and rose his hands, ready to shield his eyes, but was surprised to witness that the red liquid he expected was in fact inky shadows that seemed to curl around and reform, creating three almost identical women who slowly encircled him, each with a dress that corresponded with the colour of their eyes.

Altmont whirled around to face the door, much like a rabbit upon seeing a farmer, but froze as the woman in purple stood before him. Behind her, the world had changed to a midnight landscape with tiny, twinkling stars dotting the sky.

“Before you leave, let us ask you properly, Richard Altmont. What is it you want from us?” she asked him.

His heart racing and his head dizzy with fear and uncertainty, he took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to steady himself. “My child is deathly ill and I ask that you please save him”, he pleaded.

“And why should we do such a thing?” questioned the woman in red.

“He is bright!” Altmont exclaimed, “He has his whole future ahead of him and may take over my business or even open his own. He could bring machines into people’s homes; improve their lives!”

“An unlikely outcome,” retorted the soft voice of the woman in blue, “having been raised by a man such as yourself. He who rejected people from work even though they would die of hunger. He who denied his workers time off to grieve or celebrate with their loved ones. You have been an ill liked man who exploited others and praises himself for their success.”

“The boy could be different. As much as he could usher in an easier way of life for everyone he is destined to be but a mirror of you who will poison the world further. He will inherit your factories that people have come to rely on, out of desperation rather than love, and lavish in his ill-gotten gains in the same way as you,” mused the woman in purple.

“I’ll raise him to be better!” he begged, “I’ll change my ways! I’ll give it all up! Please just save him!”

“Regardless of what can or can not be done, we cannot save him. We can only trade.”

“W-what?!” Altmont exploded with rage, “all this performance and you can’t even do anything? What was the point of it? WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOU?!”

“WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOU, RICHARD ALTMONT?” the three women bellowed in unison, causing him to shrink back, seemingly becoming half the man he was when he entered. After a moment of silence, the woman in red continued, “you hear us, but you do not listen. We cannot save your child, but we can offer a trade.”

“Why trade? Why can’t you do me this kindness?”

“Kindness,” the word hung on her lips as if it left a foul taste in her mouth, “has little to do with it. Rather, it is the law.”

“What law? And whose?”

“The universal law of equivalent exchange. All creatures know it to be true, deep in your hearts, that in order to gain, you must first lose.”

“Why is that? It’s hardly fair!”

“On the contrary, it is absolute fairness. It’s the way it always is.”

“Always was,” continued the woman in blue.

“And always will be,” concluded the woman in purple.

“Alright, fine, a trade… What is it you want? Money? Jewels? Some of the ‘saleable magic’ you mentioned earlier? Tell me!”

“You misunderstand, Richard Altmont,” said the woman in red, “the value must be equal.”

“An eye for an eye,” muttered the woman in blue.

“A tooth for a tooth,” echoed the woman in purple.

“A life for a life,” finished the woman in red.

The room fell into silence. He had come here in search of a way to save his son, the heir to his fortune and legacy which he would then pass on to his own children in the future. Yet here he was, stood in front of three magical beings who were telling him to die. A hollow pit opened up in his stomach as he began to drown in the wash of worries that he had been suppressing from the moment he stepped foot in this horrid little shack. Slowly, his feet began to shift as he, once more, headed for the exit in abject defeat.

“Electing to leave, then?” queried the woman in purple, her glowing eyes illuminating his face.

“Of course I am!” he spat, “You three would have me stand here and beg you to show some kind of mercy but instead you tell me to die? How cruel are you?”

“No more cruel than you will inevitably become after watching your child writhe in agony up until his final moments. You will lead your life a miserable miser, malcontented and spiteful, up until your dying days. No one will miss you when you depart this mortal coil. In fact, some may even celebrate.”

Her words clearly shook him, “but what can I do?” he said, the sadness falling from his voice like a wilting vibrato.

“You know what to do, Richard Altmont,” said the woman in red, “the Shades are owed a soul and they shall have it regardless of whatever you choose. Know that most parents would instead choose to stand here and say our name rather than live with their agonising decision until time’s end.”

Moving back into the room with a renewed desperation, “You horrid sisters! You would tempt me back in only to tell me to do something impossible! I don’t know who you are!”

“Silly boy, you know who we are.”

“We are the body, mind, and spirit. The One Who Is Three,” the woman in blue began.

“We are life, death, and rebirth. The Three Who Are One,” the woman in purple continued.

“We are the past, present, and future. The Moi Rae Gon,” the woman in red concluded.

Gradually, each sister raised her hands as they said their piece. Beneath where the man was standing, a glowing trinity knot appeared with each of them standing in one of the arches and him standing at the centre. 

“MOI RAE GON,” they chanted in unison.

Panic began to rise within him once again. His heart was thumping in his chest as he felt the sudden thrum of magic beneath his feet and the rush of air that seemed to come from directly below him.

“MOI RAE GON,” they continued.

The feeling rose without limit. A scream was climbing its way up from deep within his stomach but he refused to let it out. Slowly, his lips began to twitch, mimicking the letters coming from the sisters’ mouths. He had no time to think, no time to plan. Would he suffer their wrath if he fled? Would he even be able to live with himself if he did? His head pounded with those words, over and over, it was all he could think about. It was all there was. 

“Moi Rae Gon…”

* * *

“It seems he was truly desperate to seek aid from us…” said the cloaked woman in the abandoned house at the top of the hill. The lifeless body of the man formerly known as Richard Altmont lay behind her, pallid as the clouds above and empty as if everything that made him alive had been simply and suddenly removed. Slowly, she ran her midnight blue fingers over the rusty shears, “or incredibly foolish”.

“Would he have been able to kill us, given the opportunity?” asked the woman in blue.

“Unlikely, while he was a selfish man in life he was never the sort to kill another. Say, sister-self, what will become of the boy?”

“He will grow up lacking the guidance and perspective his father could have granted him,” the woman in purple began. “Instead, he will be taught by others to conduct his father’s business in the way they believe he should do it. He will be hated in his position, but he will not know it. Soon enough, there will come a time when those below him, whom he will never as much as carry a conversation with, will band together with the aim of revolting against his status quo. He will be ousted from his stone building and beaten to death in the street. It will be a surprise to him, though not to anyone else who might’ve been paying the slightest bit of attention.”

“Why did we do it if he was just going to die in the end anyway?” mused the woman in blue.  “The outcome seems to have nary a difference.”

A lengthy silence hung in the room before the woman in red finally responded, “because he asked for something that didn’t benefit him… for once.”

And so, she turned and exited the run down shack at the top of the hill. The wind had stopped howling through its empty bones, leaving the corpse inside to its peaceful slumber. No one would know of the events that transpired regarding the ancient power of three magic eyes that beheld a rich man’s untimely demise. A young life was changed while another’s was redrawn. By the twisting of fate. By the Moi Rae Gon.

[sereia1313]

Bad For Business

A little modern AU chapter fic to cure what ails you. There's a coffee shop involved, but I'm more excited about Detective Sess. And Kags' new bestie Bankotsu!

Read it on Ao3, Dokuga, and FFnet!

Summary: After strange things start happening around her apartment, Kagome finds herself continuously running into the detective in charge of the case, his company easing the loneliness weighing on her shoulders. But their friendship evolves, she finds herself caught within the web of someone else who had his eyes on her--someone whose affection is much more sinister.

Sneak Peek

How Bankotsu had ended up serving coffee instead of time was beyond her, but she appreciated the compassion she seemed to stir in him. He'd lost his parents just as he'd finished high school, taking on the role of working man and caregiver to his younger brothers instead of accepting the kendo scholarship.

He ran a dojo on the side, or at least, he was trying to, but the café was a steady source of income, and since some of his siblings were still in school, paying the bills came first.

Kagome patted his hand, her smile forced and contrite. "The noise keeps my mind from wandering."

Bankotsu sighed. "Fine. But let me know if ya need an extra break. Jak doesn't like it when you get overworked." A genuine smile tugged at her lips. Jakotsu was the youngest, currently in his last year of primary school, but he'd taken an instant liking to Kagome, bringing her art from school or flowers from their garden.

She'd been worried his crush would end in tears, but Bankotsu had confided that the little boy was trying to set the two of them up instead. Kagome had stammered and tried to come up with an excuse, but he'd just waved her off. "Don't worry, Kags. You're not my type. Besides, I like ya too much to ruin what we've got here."

She'd been relieved, then curious, asking what he looked for in a partner, and he'd flashed her a mischievous grin before holding his hand above her head. "Someone taller."

She'd threatened to cut off his ponytail and use it to strangle him.

[pyromeo]

"Oh, you’re a warlock? Who’s your patron.” Kantus laughs a bit before responding.

“Baal.” The man looked at him with fear. Kantus was the first person he saw when he awoke, and he’s a vassal of death.

“Am I dead? Are you some sort of necromancer? Or maybe a lich, making me your servant?” Kantus looks down at the man. A gleam in his eye, and a confident smile on his face.

“On the contrary, I’m a doctor.” He turns and begins to walk away leaving the man to marinate on all the thought racing through his head. He looks around himself for the first time. Absolute destruction, his entire village destroyed. He could still see the burning vestiges of the sturdier made buildings. As the horror of what was in front of him settled in, he noticed others sitting up covered in ash with their clothes burned to a crisp. Their bodies however, were fine, better than fine. Perfect even. Even Geofry, who lost an arm last winter could be seen looking in awe at the limb that magically grew back.

“Just who are you?” The man started to call after Kantus, only to turn back and find him gone. Seemingly vanished, not a trace in sight.

* * *

Katus looks at himself in the mirror. He met his own eyes, or rather where they should be.

“So that’s what you took, huh? You know I can bring them back.” A voice emanates from all around.

“Why of course, I am well aware of our arrangement, but are you prepared to lose another year?” The voice chuckles before continuing. “I did leave you your sight, you of all people should know that you don’t need eyes to see.”

“That maybe the case but I can’t just go around town scaring everybody can I?” Kantus opens his bag and pulls out a needle. He closes his eyelids and concentrates on his seal. The magic begins to swirl around him as he opens it. His feels his soul leave his body and stand before him. He opens his eyelids and looks at it, “Well, let’s do this once more.” Kantus’ soul looked worse for wear. Missing an arm and both its legs. “I must fix you up one of these days, but that day is not today. Today you’re fixing me.” Kantus looks up at the ceiling, his soul doing the same. He holds the needle out above him, pushing the needle into his eye socket. He lets magic flow into his fingers as he sews. Tugging on the string, making sure he has a solid base. Kantus reaches out and pulls an eye out of his soul. It tears away with little resistance. As he sews the eye into his skull, he can feel it becoming more corporeal. He does the same with the other eye. His mastery of the craft evident with every stroke of the needle. He blinks a couple times to get used to seeing again. “Ahh, that’s much better.” He looks in the mirror to admire his handiwork. “Huh, green this time. Well, I guess that’s better than the purple I got last time.” A rooster outside his window began to crow. “Well, it’s time to head to the office. Don’t want to keep my patients waiting.”

His office is in the middle of town, across the street from the tavern. The placement saving more than a few drunkards stumbling off balconies or onto dropped knives. Kantus flips through the papers on his desk before calling out “Sharron, call in Mr. Smith please.”

“Right away sir.” Came the quick reply. Mr. Smith is the town blacksmith. He is a tall man with broad shoulders tanned from his days spent outside his forge.

“Pray sir, have a seat and tell me what’s been ailing you.” The hulking man sits down on the stool provided.

“Well, I don’t wanna soun’ like a big ol’ sissy…” He began Looking down as if meeting the doctor’s eyes was some form of taboo.

“There are no judgements here, Even the slightest of disturbances can be indicative of something larger.”

“Uhh… Ion know ‘bout in-dic-ati-ves but I’ve been all hot but cold at the same time. It’s a bit scary.”

“And I imagine this comes with headaches, and a bit of a stuffed nose?” The smith nodded in the affirmative. “I see well you’re in luck. This ailment has a very simple cure.” Mr. Smith looked up for the first time, hope filling his eyes. “I’m going to write you a very special prescription. Go across the street, buy yourself a nice big bowl of chicken soup, and then I want you to get lots of rest.” Kantus writes all of this down on a pad of paper he keeps on his desk. Handing it to the smith, he reiterates. “Now, rest means no work. For at least 3 days I want you to lay in bed, and have your apprentices hold down the fort. Am I clear?”

“Yes doc..very” Mr. Smith takes his leave as Sharron calls in the next patient.

“Alright, Sharron call in the last patient…” Kantus looks at his notes. “Bakram, he’s not usually found of medicine. Bakram Walks in the office, holding his bandaged arm with his free one. “Tell me Mr. Bakram what brings you in today?”

“Well…” Bakram begins “I tried to take care of it myself, but it just kept festering. I can’t take it anymore. I need help.” Kantus takes his bandaged arm and informs him that he is going to look at it. When the bandage it pulled off his arm Kantus’s eyes went wide.

“By the Gods why didn’t you come to me sooner. You of all people should know what a blight infection can do. Why, it wiped out your whole family.” Bakram begins to defend himself, but Kantus stops him. “I don’t want any excuses. Fortunately, you will survive. However…” He pauses to find his words. “We will have to amputate the arm.” Bakram says nothing. He just sits there nodding. After a few seconds he finally speaks.

“Do what you have to doc.” Kantus leads him to the operating table offering him a sleeping draught. Once he is asleep Kantus begins his procedure. He chants a spell from a language unintelligible to human ears. His eyes begin to glow white as he opens the seal on his magic. Pulling Bakram’s soul from his body and standing it in front of himself. Kantus grabs ahold of the soul’s arm and gingerly lifts it. “At least the soul is still intact any longer and in might have been tainted.” He lifts the cleaver he grabbed from his operating tray and brings it down on the soul’s shoulder severing the arm. The matching arm on Bakram dissipates into smoke as it no longer had a hold on this world. Kantus begins to mutter another spell. His own soul pulls out from himself. Grabbing his trusty needle, Kantus begins to sew Bakram’s old arm onto the bare shoulder of his own. He begins to feel the numbness in his left hand recede. “Ah that’s better, I can feel again.” As Kantus begins to close the seal around his magic, A courier dashes into the operating room.

“Sir,” The courier said panting, “It’s…it’s the…the town of Creek Stone…” He accepts the water Kantus offers him. After catching his breath, he continues. “It’s been attacked, the whole town is in rubbles.” A flash of horror can be seen in Kantus’s eyes. “They need every able-bodied doctor and alchemist available.”

“I’ll be on my way then” Kantus responded sternly. “Sharron, cancel the rest of my appointments, I’ll return when I can.”

Despite the last decade of his gruesome cycle, the smell of burning flesh still burned at his nose. He looked around at the village. Barely a building remained. Bodies of the dead, or at least mostly dead scattered everywhere. No matter how many times he’s seen it, it never gets easier “I better get started then.” With that he fully releases the seal on his magic. Pure power flowing through his veins. His eyes glowing, Kantus looks around and calls all the souls of the dead and injured to him. They line up and he starts one after another. Mending a singed arm here, resuscitating a dead body there. This is the power of an unleased God, even if just borrowed makes the world of difference. Once he had finished with the souls, he began checking their bodies themselves. Once their souls were patched up their body quickly followed, but Kantus is a perfectionist. He had to make sure they were fully healed. Kantus heard a noise from behind him. He turned sealing off his magic to see the physical world better. “What did you say son?” Kantus asked after discovering the source of the noise was a young man, not 20 years old.

“Oh, you’re a warlock?” The man says, caught of guard by sight of his savior “Who’s your patron.” Kantus felt his face, the marks there marking him as such just starting to fade. He chuckled at the all too familiar question.

“Baal” he answered, knowing full well that wasn’t the answer the boy was looking for. Looking panicked the boy askes

“Am I dead? Are you some sort of necromancer? Or maybe a lich, making me your servant?” Kantus looks at the boy.

“On the contrary, I’m a doctor.” He turns no doubt leaving the young man with more questions than answers. As he walks away, the all too familiar voice of his patron plays like a trumpet in his mind.

“One more down, how many more do you have in you I wonder?” As he spoke the last few words Kantus felt his heart stop. He dropped to the ground, with his final breath he said.

“Only a few more…I hope.”

“So, your patron is the God of Death?” Yeah. “So, are you a necromancer? A great Warrior?” …Nah, I’m a Doctor.

[thebarefootcajun]

ELEVEN

Tonight the guys were going to go out for their supper. They were headed out to a crawfish boil at a place called Les Pinceurs; it was a place that catered to crawfish lovers; boiled, fried, Étouffée, and any other way one could cook crawfish. Allen picked up Cal at the Pine Lodge Motel. He was sitting outside waiting for Allen. He looked forlorn. Allen really liked Cal and he went into man-friend pampering mode. Cal looked like he needed some loving. And Allen was just the man to take care of him.

Allen walked up to Cal and gave him a big hug.

“How’s my friend today,” he asked.

“Not so good,” Cal answered.

“Want to talk about it?” Allen asked.

“Maybe over supper,” Cal answered.

“Okay, let’s go get our hands dirty peeling some crawfish,” Allen said.

“That’s a known cure for what ails you. And the crawfish, potatoes, sausage and corn on the cob will also make you smile,” Allen suggested.

Allen could tell that Cal was really down in the dumps. He thought to himself, “this might be more serious than a plate of crawfish cure.”

They rode in silence to Les Pinceurs, but that wasn’t so unusual, they weren’t big talkers while riding through the countryside. These two men were comfortable with themselves and didn’t need idle chat. They felt each other’s vibes; you know those vibes when you love someone; just sitting near them is all you really need.

They got to the crawfish eatery and lo and behold, there was the green chevy pickup truck. Both of the guys tensed up. Maybe someone else had a similar pickup truck and it wasn’t Melli and her sidekick, George. The place looked full so Cal said, “Hey, Allen, let’s go some place else. This place looks packed; I’m hungry and not keen on waiting to eat.”

Allen agreed, “You’re right, Cal, let’s find a quiet space to eat in peace.”

Cal asked, “How about the diner where we first ate together. Let’s go to the Crapaud Diner and ask for Miss Myrtle’s service. I really liked that place and I really liked Miss Myrtle.”

Allen agreed, “Good plan, friend, the Crapaud Diner with Miss Myrtle it is.”

They arrived before the rush and Miss Myrtle saw them. She waved them over to a booth that was near a window where they could be alone. Miss Myrtle felt that was best for these two. She seemed to understand the people she waited on. She thought of herself as a sort of therapist. And she picked up on that these two were rather stressed tonight and she would make sure they calmed down a bit and enjoyed their supper.

“Hey, boys, how y’all doing tonight,” said Miss Myrtle.

They both agreed they’d seen better days and were a bit unsettled tonight for some reason.

Miss Myrtle said, “You’re in my care now, relax and enjoy you supper. The half fried chicken with mashed potatoes topped with butter and the green beans cooked with bacon are all excellent choices. It comes with homemade biscuits slathered beneath soft homemade salted butter, and an array of desserts to choose from. My personal favorite is the praline pecan sweet dough pie with a side of homemade vanilla ice cream all washed down with sweet tea for the main course and with strong black Cajun coffee for the pie and ice cream.”

“Sign me up,” said Allen and Cal at the same time.

“Anything you might want to share with me about your day,” asked Allen.

He looked worried, and after a lengthy pause, he said, “No. It’s work related.”

Allen knew that Cal was lying to him, but he understood that this must be serious. He felt confident that Cal would share with him when he trusted Allen more and when this problem was sorted out with a plan.

The meal was delicious. Food always tempers any negative situation or crisis. Crispy fried chicken, buttery potatoes and pie and ice cream do a lot for stress, at least for a little while.

They boys finished their meal. Thanked Miss Myrtle and tipped her well.

“Y’all come back, my boys,” she said as they got up to leave. Miss Myrtle just had a way with the boys, sort of like a momma bear.

They drove back to the Pine Lodge Motel. It was still early, but Cal told Allen that he had some work to do that night and so he would be staying at the motel.

Allen said, “Okay, Cal, I can take a hint. I will head on home, but I’ll miss you tonight. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do, my friend," answered Cal.

[themadlostgirl]

Get Better Soon

*Short prompt but a good one! A sick Reader and a doting Peter. A Happy Valentine’s Day to you all! Love ya!*

~~~

You felt like complete and utter shit.

There was no two ways about it. You felt absolutely terrible and it was not going away. You laid in your tent huddled in on yourself as waves of nausea wracked your body. You kept trying to swallow it back since you didn’t want the boys to see you like this but it was getting to be too much.

Another wave hit you and you knew you weren’t going to be able to hold it in. Quickly dashing out of your tent faster than you thought your ill body could move you made for the trees and hurled. Bile stung your throat and your eyes watered as you heaved everything but your guts into the grass.

“Ugh…” You slumped to your knees, “kill me,”

A shadow blocked your light and you turned to see which poor sod had witnessed you puke your soul. You were a little relieved to see it was just Peter but also mortified that he was seeing you in such a low state.

“What’s happened? Are you alright, love?” Peter asked, kneeling down next to you.

“Just a little stomach bug,” you tried to wave it off, “I’m--” you cut off as another wave hit you and you turned to puke again. Peter gathered your hair and held it back from your face as you hurled. This was so embarrassing!

“Looks more serious than a small stomach bug,” Peter sighed. He pressed a hand to your forehead, “You’re burning up. Come, you should be resting.”

“I don’t think I can move,” you muttered, spitting the disgusting taste of vomit from your mouth. “Just leave me here to die.”

“Not likely, love,” Peter handed you canteen. You swished some water around in your mouth before spitting again, glad to have the taste gone. Before you could hand the canteen back Peter scooped you up in his arms.

“Peter,” you slumped in his arms, “I’m fine. Really.”

“No, you are not. You need rest and medicine.” with an ease that always baffled you he lifted you up off the ground and walked away with you. There was a whirl of wind that encased you and next you knew you were at the top of Dead Man’s Peak.

“What are we doing here?” you asked before he set you down.

“Getting you medicine,” Peter waved his hand a thicket of dreamshade parted to reveal a beautiful spring of crystal clear water. He picked you back up and brought you into the cave. “This spring is the source of Neverland’s power. It’s what keeps everything young and has the ability to cure any ill.”

“I know. I also know that if I drink any of that I’ll be forever bound to Neverland.”

“Which is why I won’t make you drink any if you don’t want to,” he conjured some pillows and set you against them. “But because the healing properties are strongest here the cave will heal you naturally. It will take time though.”

“Can’t you just wave your hand and make me better?” you asked.

“It’s not that simple, love,” Peter dunked a handkerchief into the water and pressed it to your burning brow. “I would need to know exactly what ails you or else I could end up making it worse. This is easier and here no one will bother us.”

“You mean bother me,” you said.

“No. I mean us,” he said, waving his hand so the dreamshade grew back over the entrance, “You didn’t really think I’d leave here you alone while you’re ill, did you my love?”

You smiled, relieved that he wasn’t going to go and reached for his hand. “Thank you,”

“Of course, anything you want you just tell me.”

“Just lay by me,” you whispered, “I’m tired.”

“I know you are, love.” pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Sleep, I’ll keep watch of you.”

You fell into a deep sleep. Part of you wondered if Peter put a sleeping spell on you but it hardly mattered. When you woke you were feeling much better but your body still felt weak. Peter laid next to you, watching you carefully.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” he said, “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you tried to sit up and Peter helped you, “A little hungry but I don’t know if I can keep anything down.”

“Not to worry,” Peter pulled out some plain bread and handed it to you. Next he conjured a mug that was already full of hot tea. “Something mild to eat and something to help settle your restless stomach.”

“Thank you,” you took small bites of the bread and even tinier sips of the tea. While you sat Peter pulled out a book and began reading. You leaned against him as your energy was slowly restored. You knew that Peter had a soft spot for you but you had never realized how tender and doting he could truly be. It was sweet.

He touched your brow and smiled. “Your fever’s gone and you haven’t thrown up for hours. I think it is safe to say that you are fully healed, my love.”

“Yay,” you murmured on a yawn. Even with your long nap today you still felt exhausted. It was dark outside past the wall of dreamshade but the inside of the cave was nothing like it. Now that you didn’t feel like death incarnate you were better able to take in where Peter had taken you. The spring water seemed to glow with this magical turquoise light that illuminated the entire cave. Moss grew along the cave walls and small white and blue flowers sprouted in the corners. Far above you at the cave ceiling were dozens of softly glowing yellow lights. Fireflies? You had never seen fireflies in Neverland before.

Peter followed your gaze and smiled. “It’s wonderful isn’t it?” Peter said, “They’re not bugs if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What are they then?”

“It’s magic. Pure magic. Since this part of the island is so ripe with power the pollen off the flowers floats off the flowers and gathers at the top of the cave, creating this little glowing particles.”

“I like it here,” you laced your hand with Peter’s, “We need to come up here more often, not just when I’m sick.”

Peter pressed another kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be our little hideaway,”

[fyeahfantasticfour]

Marvel Comics Super Special #1 (1977) - Biography of Doctor Doom

Transcripted under cut

A brief biography of DR. DOOM. Based upon "The Fantastic Origin of Dr. Doom" by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

He is a master of robotics, of physics and chemistry, of aerodynamics and micro-miniature electronics. Yet he dwells within the ancient stone castle walls of a Central European castle. He is absolute monach of the tiny Balkan kingdom Latveria. Yet he shuns the self-indulgent pomp and pageanty of royalty, disdains the ritualised adoration of his subjects, preferring instead their unmitigated obedience, and an almost reclusive existence. He is a man of many passions--all concealed. He is one of the wealthiest men in the world, and yet he permits himself no luxary, no comfort, except his solitude. he is the living paradox named Victor Von Doom.

(break)

Sometime in the early 1920's, in the storybook kingdom of Latveria, a son was born to the Rromani family Von Doom. The father was a healder, a physician, inheritor of his own father's knowledge of herbs, barks, berries, roots, and the curative potions obtainable through their combination. The mother was notable primarily for the circumstances of her death; in a pit, with stones raining down on her head. Certain persons thought her to be a witch.

It was a difficult time to be a Rrom. Caught between two eras, they were hated and feared by the slowly fading adherents to the agrarian past, hated and scoffed at by the proponents of the industrial future, hated and persecuted--but respected--by the powers-that-were, that relucant regard for Rromani prowess in certain areas, among them medicine, was the elder Von Doom's undoing.

One day, when Victor was barely 10 summers old, his father was summoned to the royal palace and ordered to save the life of the ailing queen. "I shall try my utmost, of course, sire," protested Von Doom, "but I can offer no guarantee of success. Your own physicians have admitted their inability to effect a cure."

"Then let me inform you, Von Doom," replied the king, "that should you faill, I can offer no guarantee that you shall leave this palace with your head."

The queen died.

Von Doom fled for his life, eluding the royal guardsmen just long enough to make a quick stop at the Rromani encampment to pick up young Victor, reasoning soundly that the boy would surely be the king's target if Von Doom made good his escape alone.

For months, through the passing of fall and on into a bitter winter, Von Doom and son roamed the forests, always a step ahead of their persuers. The elements, however, proved impossible to avoid, and one day the Rromani wagons found VonDoom and his son huddled together in a blanket, covered with snow, at the side of a road. The father was moribund.

Within hours, despite the ministrations of the Rromani, Von Doom was dead. His last words, voiced to Boris, an old friend and member of the tribe. "My son... protect...!"

"No one need protect me, father!" Victor wailed. "I shall be strong! I shall make them pay for what they did to you and to mother!"

But Boris knew the real meaning of Von Doom's impassioned plea. Victor would need no protection, it was true. However, the world must somehow be safeguarded against the lifelong rage that would burn in the child's soul.

When Von doom had been buried, Boris presented young Victor with the few possessions his father had left behind. Among these was a curiously decorated trunk, marked with arcane astrological symbols, which Victor had never seen nefore. Inside it he found a strange collection of cards, charms, fetishes, talismans--all the implements of sorcery. And when he realised with grim satisfaction that the accusations made of his mother were joyfully, wondrously true. He was the son of a physician and a witch.

(break)

Victor Von Doom threw all his energies into the study of both his parents' crafts. By the end of his eighteenth summer, the boy had established a reputation as an inventor, a magician, a philosopher, and a rogue. For all his devices were created to victimise the wealthy and the powerful--like the salve that cured headaches, but induced baldness, like the "magic" violin which made any man a virtuoso until Victor, safely out of reach, fliced a switch and shut off it's power source.

Indeed, words of Victor's accomplishments spread so rapidly and so far that he was offered an opportunity to study at a major university in the United States. Anxious for the access this would provide to far more advanced laboratory fascilities, Victor accepted.

But tragedy lay at the end of the journey. During an unauthorised experiment on univeristy premises, Victor's elaborate device for communication with the spirit world exploded, permanently disfiguring his face. He was summarily expelled.

By this time, World War 2 had erupted in Europe, so rather than returning to his homeland, Victor set out for the Himalayas, determined to learn the mystical secrets of the Tibetan lamas. He did. Indeed, by the time he was ready to depart, his teachers were calling him "master."

It was in Tibet that Doom's strange costume was forged, the cold grey armour, the emotionless iron mask which would forever hide his ravaged countenance from view.

And it was there he swore a vow that one day, all the world would acknowledge him as it's sovereign. He has not abandoned that vow. Power remains his obsession to this day.

The world may not yet bow to his every command, but the very mention of his name sends shudders up the spines of men and of nations.

And hey--that's a start. End transcription.