#also did this with various other bones on that shelf

[rotten-home]

Yall fuckin wit the oddity shelf 💯💯💯

#random #oddities #oddity #animal bones #bones #animal skull #skulls #books #horror books #the frogs and ducks don’t math but idc #match #the two small skulls I found and bleached myself #soaking in peroxide and sun bleaching work best is what I’ve discovered so far #also did this with various other bones on that shelf

[melis-writes]

Pls pls a part 2 to that prompt where Michael insulted Victoria. We want to know what happens next!

Also known as the “useless” prompt since that’s exactly what Michael called her. 😅 This has actually been very highly requested!! Everyone’s interested in Victoria’s reaction after. I also understand some weren’t too happy with how she initially walked off from Michael upset, but keeping it true to her personality, what would Victoria really do afterwards after being shunned like that? Well, she would do this…💅🏻

If it’s anything you feel other than the hurt and bitterness swelling up inside of you, it’s second hand embarrassment for having Al Neri practically overhear and see your reaction outside of Michael’s office.

‘It’s him who should be embarrassed. Even his own bodyguard knows better.’ You roll your eyes to yourself as you make your way down the hall, keeping your footsteps steady rather than running off or making a scene.

In truth, whenever Neri did overhear Michael not wanting you to be involved in the family business, only half of the time he can agree with his own boss.

“Useless,” you mutter to yourself as you can only feel irritation intensifying inside of you.

You are a mafiosi yourself and you were before you met and married Michael. If it’s anyone who has more experience and history in that lifestyle and “business”, it’s you.

It doesn’t make sense to Neri now either for Michael to try and keep you out of business with your own family in it, but he keeps his head low and remains silent knowing none of this is his business to ponder to begin with.

‘Like he cares.’ If it’s one thing you’ve learned throughout the years in your marriage, it’s that your silence or the cold shoulder does little to impact Michael in any way whatsoever, even if you thought you were punishing him.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re in the right or wrong or what the nature of the disagreement was, it’s becoming more increasingly apparent to you that silence is feeding all of this.

The opposite would be to have an explosive reaction and start reminding yourself of your sister-in-law Deanna nor is it in your nature to allow yourself to be so bothered, but simply not reacting or remaining quiet about it is in its own way admitting defeat on your own battlefield.

Although you keep yourself calm and relaxed on the outside, you refuse to let Michael’s words sit inside of you, give you any meaning or come close to ruining your night.

‘I would be of some USE if I was getting directly involved on my family’s behalf though, wouldn’t I?’ Of course, you can’t help but feel offended since it completely discredits you and who you are.

You make your way over to the study, moving towards your work desk and private bookshelf filled with various notebooks, documents for work, portraits of your family and the children, and novels to read in your spare time but you reach directly for the neatly stacked, old newspapers kept on the highest shelf.

It’s the same stack of newspapers your father has locked in his estate amongst some of his most prized possessions—articles from years back on the headlines mentioning mafia activity involving the Ferrari’s without identities or names known or revealed, but clearly revealing one thing in your hands: how you made your bones.

The newspapers you hold in your hands read out eye catching headlines reporting on your little stunt back at Dartmouth College when you had first started out as lawyer and killed your first family rivals.

As a matter of fact, there’s more than just a few articles in your hands crediting you name dating from years back—years before Michael ever entered the family business.

Your intentions are no longer to be the “better person” and let it go when it’s done nothing but confirm to Michael that you’re passive and accepting—you’d rather remind him directly what he’s talking about.  After all, it’s not personal. It’s strictly business.

Tucking the newspapers underneath your arm, you head back to your bedroom with no weight over your shoulders—insistent on enjoying your night just fine regardless.

Entering your bedroom, you set the newspaper aside on your vanity table as you take a seat—letting out a soft sigh.

You unclasp your diamond earrings off of your ears, setting them down in the jewelry tray before you as you hum quietly to yourself.

All you can picture is yourself snuggled up in bed perhaps watching a film and relaxing before the night retires, refusing to think about anything else.

The last thing on your mind is storming back into Michael’s office to prove a point and waste your time—everything he needs to be reminded of is here in the paper showing whose “useless” and who isn’t.

You run your hairbrush through your hair before fixing it into a messy bun, only having your moment interrupted by hearing a soft knock over your bedroom door.

“Mrs. Corleone? Apologies for the intrusion, it’s me.” Esther, the family nanny, speaks out.

You turn your head to face the ajar door, seeing Esther smiling back at you politely. “Mr. Corleone would like to see you in his office.”

“Thank you for letting me know.” You respond back politely, knowing Michael’s request holds no weight over you.

Esther nods, shutting the door behind her as she moves to exit, but you remain still in your seat and continue your evening routine.

‘He can wait all he wants.’ You know if he wants to see you or your reaction for a second time, he can come to you instead this time.

Ten minutes pass by the time you step out of the bathroom with your teeth brushed and face washed off, feeling completely refreshed as you pour yourself a small glass of chardonnay.

Barely a minute passes by when you pick up on the sounds of familiar footsteps approaching the bedroom, but nothing else is provoking any sort of reaction from you for tonight.

Michael enters the bedroom with his eyes already expectantly lingering over you as he keeps both of his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

You refuse to even glance back over your shoulder and acknowledge his presence, putting the bottle of chardonnay down and grabbing your drink.

“I know you heard from Esther,” is the first thing Michael greets you with.

“I did,” you confirm, setting your drink down on the night table to crawl into bed.

“And yet I awaited you in my office for the past ten minutes.” Disappointment crosses Michael’s eyes.

“Why?” You rest your back against your pillow, picking up your drink. “I thought you didn’t want to get me involved in your work and that I was useless. Why would you want to see me again?”

Michael raises his brows at you.  “With you leaving the way you did—”

“Oh, forget it.” You scoff, brushing him off. “I’m fine, truly, if you can’t already tell. It just caught me by surprise you know, the things you say to go off on a power trip against me.”

“You’re over reacting.” Michael shuts the door behind him, loosening his tie.

“But if someone underestimated Don Corleone, there would be no over reaction?” You stare back at him. “You’re in the wrong, you can deny it all you want.”

“You know what I meant when I said that to you, Victoria.” Michael shrugs off his suit jacket. “I wasn’t using it against you as an insult but as your place in my affairs—”

“Stop.” You hold up your hand, pressing your lips together in a fine line. “These are not your affairs, not as long as they have the Ferrari name in them. You don’t want me involved in it? You don’t want to talk to me about it? Fine, but because it involves me one way or another, best believe I will find a way to get involved in it if I want to. It’s my right to, isn’t it?”

“What are you trying to prove?” Unamused, Michael frowns at you. “You think this is some kind of a game?”

“Go ahead, I pulled them back up in case you forgot just what I’m talking about. See if the word ‘useless’ is still what you’re thinking about once you read them.” You state back, gesturing to the stack of newspapers.

Michael’s eyes dart from you over to the newspaper as he moves over to your vanity table, picking them up.

Michael only takes a quick moment to skim over the headlines before lowering the newspapers and meeting your eyes again.

“Don’t underestimate me, Michael.” You tell him, “you know I’m far beyond that. I deserve your respect and you’ve given me very little of that tonight. You’re right though, this isn’t a game. Every headline you just read, more than one person lost their life and time and time again it wasn’t me.”

“You thought I forgot about all of this?” Michael sets the newspapers down. “I’m well aware of just exactly who you are—”

“Then act like it, for God’s sake.” You raise your voice, scowling at him. “I’m still just as involved in my family business as I was before I married you and well before you began working for your father, don’t forget that.”

#godfather au #prompts #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone fanfic #moth to flame fanfic #michael corleone x oc #godfather x reader #not canon #moth to flame fic

[omegaplus]

# 4,076

Sunday Records, 2022.

It’s early June and I’m in the middle of eleven days off from work. I cannot tell you how stunning these last few weeks have been for me. For the first time in a long time I’ve been feeling great about many things. I have been at the top of my game. Relaxed, tranquil, and level like never before. I went to Sacred Bones’ 15th Anniversary and experienced a feeling like no other. I’ve met a few friends from the alternative-music circle whom I haven’t seen in years. I’ve been tasked to do an amazing amount of summer radio shows at WUSB. The Roman goth girl who’ve I’ve been in contact with since February taught me to face my fears, to not be afraid of bad news, and see the greatest, truest value in people. It’s not even halfway to June and I feel something great is yet to happen.

I’ve been spending money on music without worry. It’s a winner-take-all tour of Long Island’s record stores and at this point I’ve hit up three so far with astonishing results. Sunday Records would be my fourth on the list to visit and it had to be. It’s my only Sunday off in the foreseeable future and, still true to its name, only opens on that one day. I didn’t have a choice, did I? It took me only 30 minutes to get there and closing time was 5PM. It’s 2PM as I walked through those doors so I had three hours to Autobahn it through the entire store. No shelf or rack was left unsifted by me.

The layout of Sunday Records hasn’t changed one bit. Nothing’s re-arranged. Upper wall racks of 7” singles and 45’s hovered above the 12” vinyl bins. There was a maze of LP’s front to back, side to side, and in the middle. What also hasn’t changed was the owner’s system of classifying records unique to the store. If not a genre, it’s chart position, week, and radio station. Brian (the owner) was obsessive to detail and nostalgic like that. Then again, so am I.

There’s a section on the front left side of the entrance. It’s where the electronic, dusty classics, and un-priced arrivals sections were. Less than .01% of its stock was electronic and I sure wasn’t going to waste time sifting through Fifties and Sixties jazz greats. I just knew. I turn to my right and there were plenty of funk, groove, and R&B LP’s and 12” singled there. I looked under the bins and there were boxes of records not priced out. That’s where I found various hip-hop and rap singles, uncharacteristic for a store that specialized in vintage jazz, Seventies radio rock, and everything Eighties. It was all fair game and I took what I could. Unstickered singles by Black Moon, Big Daddy Kane, Kurtis Blow, Jeru The Damaja, Fu-Schnickens, Double XX Posse, and an early pre-fame DMX e.p. (“Born Loser”). I knew Brian wasn’t the type who was into West Coast jams or boombox anthems and made me think why he took them in the first place. No matter. It was a lucky out for someone like me to easily stock up on hip-hop and rap vinyl.

Now the 45’s. Sunday Records was always good with pricing them on the cheap. What I purchased in 7” singles from West Babylon’s Looney Tunes, I tripled that here. These 7” singles of Eighties hits from my Atari / Nintendo childhood meant not having to purchase full albums for one or two songs. Why not acquire them? Plenty of synth-pop, new wave, and pop rock. One 7” I might have passed up the last time around was Re-Flex’ “The Politics Of Dancing”. The single that gave me these Sunday vibes was finally in my hands. This visit’s surprises? Gary Numan’s “I Die: You Die” b/w “Down In The Park” and Killing Joke’s “Adorations” for $4.00. Then I came across The Normal’s “T.V. OD” b/w “Warm Leatherette” The good news was that I discovered it. The bad news? It was a $14.00 hit…and without an original artwork sleeve. The price you pay to take home synthpop history.

When that was over, I took a deep breathe and dove into all the vinyl inventory. The great thing about Brian was that almost nothing was out of place. He’s incredibly meticulous in that everything was in alphabetical order and with almost nothing in the wrong bin. Also with Looney Tunes, a good amount of records were alphabetized or sorted by artist, allowing me to fly right over large chunks of sections and straight to the others. What wasn’t hip-hop / rap and categorized by chart position, week, and radio station ended up on the lesser expensive side. Like the 45’s, I sped through furiously through the LP bins and acquired a lot of hits from my childhood. A recent discovery now in my hands? Captain Sensible’s “Wot” for $5.00.

And what I made up in value, I would lose later with some essential finds. That’s even avoiding the new vinyl section. Towards the end of searching was where it started to hurt. The least of my worries? The Cars’ Panorama for $8.00. The Shirts’ debut and Anti-Nowhere League’s The Perfect Crime for $9.00 each. But that’s not all. I found essentials in The Young Gods and Pere Ubu where it stopped at the $10.00.

Now the heavy stuff. No one remembers or know who The Innocent was. The Roman goth girl I mentioned earlier? She’s insanely obsessed with Tent Reznor. While doing a Nine Inch Nails run, I learned he was part of said band right after leaving Option 30. The Innocent’s only album was found in one of the bins and I grabbed it for $14.00. Had I not known about them, I would’ve zipped past it without even knowing. One album I passed up during my last record-store tour was Cabaret Voltaire’s The Crackdown. I found it twice in unopened condition for $20.00 at several stores and gave it up at least twice, thinking I could l buy it for less. Well, four years later I was right on that one. I finally found it again and for $14.00 opened I wasn’t going to pass it up a second time. While there, Sunday Records still maintained a good selection of other industrial and related releases. They had more Cabaret Voltaire records including The Pressure Company (!) and even the new ones (Shadow Of Fear and Dekadrone) which I was impressed that Brian carried. Front 242 e.p.’s were also in the bins and several Ministry records starting with Work For Love (the overseas pressing of With Sympathy), some Twitch-era singles, and all the way up to Psalm 69.

Here comes another unexpected hit in the kneecaps: Kraftwerk’s The Man-Machine for $20.00. Any time I buy Kraftwerk on vinyl I pay that price; nothing less. That’s how much I paid for a used copy of Radio-Aktivitat at a record fair held in Amityville’s veteran hall. Again, take no chances. Finally, a record that I hoped to find in the wild because it was so good: The Raveonettes’ Pe’ahi; $20.00 asking price. Decisions had to be made but not necessarily now. I held on to it for the time being, having to decide to take it now or pass it up and find it again somewhere else for less. Looks like I will take my chances.

It’s not an understatement when I say this, but 99.99% of Sunday’s stock was all vinyl. The other .01% were used cassettes and CDs placed right near its listening station at the front-right of the entrance. I passed it all up as nothing there interested me. So far, Sunday- is the only store where it was all vinyl.

Ten minutes to closing. It’s about time to make some decisions. Brian greeted me and started counting everything up. Of the 75 I had in my arms, I gave five back to him including the Raveonettes album. He was amazed. He tried selling it back to me because he also knew it was a great album. Oh, I agreed. But as I told each and every one of you, I held off just in case. His laptop lost its’ juice so there was no easy way for him to add it all up and keep track of what he sold me. He ended up taking photos of everything I bought and took him about a good fifteen minutes to calculate it all. Then I gave in. I’d take the Raveonettes’ album after all. Take no chances, right?

“You should come here more often!” he told me in an exasperated manner. “Really?” I laughed. It’s not every year that I do this, Brian. I’d try real hard to keep up if I did. Now I knew why he said that.

“That’ll come to $348.00”. Yikes. That was at least triple of what I spent at my last visit here. I was sweating like Rodney Dangerfield on his worst night. (Plot twist: he never had one.) Despite Brian giving me all the hip-hop records for $20.00, the other records made up for it. No coupons, either. But, I had all the confidence in the suburbs to spend with no worry. The stack was so hefty that Brian got me a box from the back to hold all the 12” records in and bagged all of my 45’s so that they wouldn’t slip out of position. I was relieved in the end to nail that Sunday like I wanted to. But the day wasn’t over yet.

After I thanked Brian for everything, I loaded my purchase in the trunk. I had plans on seeing Candy, a Jewish ginger whom I haven’t seen since we left Brentwood. She has a family-owned restaurant out in Calverton and I promised I’d visit the next time I was nearby. I went west on Route 25 and started the peaceful, sunny journey to her eatery. It’s not every day I’m out in Riverhead or Calverton. I took all the time in the world driving through the scenic route of vast farmland and sparse local businesses along the long, quiet roads; ready to catch up with her and walk down a beautiful but bittersweet and tattered memory lane.

Prince: “1999” b/w “How Come U Don’t Call” 7”

Re-Flex: “The Politics Of Dancing” b/w “Flex It” 7”

Normal, The: “TV Overdose” b/w “Warm Leatherette” 7”

Gary Numan: “I Die: You Die” b/w “Down In The Park” 7”

Pet Shop Boys: “It’s A Sin” b/w “You Know Where You Went Wrong” 7”

Robert Palmer: “Simply Irresistible” b/w “Nova” 7”

Pet Shop Boys: “What Have I Done To Deserve This” b/w “A New Life” 7”

Bananarama: “Cruel Summer” 7”

Belinda Carlisle: “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” 7”

Dead Or Alive: “Brand New Lover” 7”

Joan Jett: “Little Liar” 7”

Killing Joke: “Adorations” b/w “Exile” 7”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Silent Running (On Dangerous Ground) b/w “Par Avion” 7”

Tone Loc: “Funky Cold Medina” 7”

Suzanne Vega: “Luka” 7”

Human League: “Don’t You Want Me” b/w “Seconds” 7”

Escape Club: “Wild Wild West b/w “We Can Run” 7”

Erasure: “Chains Of Love” b/w “Don’t Suppose” 7”

Don Henley: “All She Wants To Do Is Dance” b/w “Building The Perfect Beast” 7”

Starship: “We Built This City” b/w “Private Room” (ins.) 7”

Todd Rundgren: “Hello It’s Me” b/w “Cold Morning Light” 7”

Huey Lewis: “Stuck With You” b/w “Don’t Ever Tell Me That You Love Me” 7”

Stevie Winwood: “The Finer Things” 7”

Wings: “With A Little Luck” b/w “Backwards” 7”

Robert Palmer: “Addicted To Love” b/w “Let’s Fall In Love Tonight” 7”

Bananarama: “Venus” b/w “White Train” 7”

Joan Jett: “I Hate Myself For Loving You” 7”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Through The Living Years” b/w “Too Many Friends” 7”

Stevie Winwood: “Higher Love” 7”

Don Henley: “Dirty Laundry” b/w “Lilah” 7”

J.J. Fad: “Supersonic” 12”

Black Moon: “I Got Cha Opin” b/w “Reality” 12”

Big Daddy Kane: Raw ‘91 12”

Kurtis Blow: “If I Ruled The World” 12”

Jeru The Damaja: “Come Clean” b/w “D. Original Dirty Rotten Scoundrel” 12”

Fu-Schnickens: “Ring The Alarm” 12”

Young MC: “Bust A Move” 12”

Chaka Khan: “Crush Groove (Can’t Stop The Street)” 12”

Big Daddy Kane: “I Get The Job Done” 12”

Double XX Posse, The: “not Gonna Be Able To Do It” b/w “The Pure Thing” 12”

Domino: “Sweet Potato Pie” 12”

Masta Ace Incorporated: “Jeep Ass Niguh” b/w “Saturday Night Live” 12”

Fonda Rae: “Over Like A Fat Rat” 12”

River Ocean ft. India: The Tribal EP

Grandmaster & Melle Mel: “White Lines” b/w “Melle Mel’s Groove” 12”

DMX: “Born Loser” 12”

Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five: “On The Strength” 12”

Anti Nowhere League, The: The Perfect Crime 12”

Mr. Mister: “Is It Love b/w “Broken Wings” 12”

Thompson Twins: “Lies” 12”

Roxette: “The Look” 12”

T’Pau: “Heart And Soul” 12”

Dire Straits: Extended Dance EP 12”

Flora Purim: “Stories To Tell” 12”

Raveonettes, The: Pe’Ahi 12”

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark: “If You Leave” b/w “La Femme Accident” 12”

Nu Shooz: “Point Of No Return” 12”

Falco: “Vienna Calling” b/w “Rock Me Amadeus” 12”

Shirts, The: self-titled 12”

Belinda Carlisle: “I Get Weak” 12”

Captain Sensible: “Wot!” 12”

Young Gods, The: self-titled 12”

Men Without Hats: “The Safety Dance” 12”

Level 42: “Something About You” 12”

Killing Joke: “Sanity” b/w “Eighties” 12”

Pere Ubu: The Art Of Walking 12”

Kraftwerk: The Man-Machine 12”

Innocent, The: Livin’ In The Street 12”

XBXRX: Gop Ist Minee 12”

Cabaret Voltaire: The Crackdown 12”

Cars, The: Panorama 12”

#music #personal #playlists #reviews #mixtapes #Long Island #synthpop #new wave #rock #hip-hop #rap #industrial #punk #classic #boombox #old-school #wow #whoa #WTF #LOL #omega

[lkenvs3000w23]

Unit 9

With this year being my fourth and final year in the environmental science program I feel like I have learned so many amazing things about nature. That is why for this week's blog I have found it difficult to narrow it down to just one amazing thing about nature. I noticed from reading other blogs that a lot of people have picked a specific ecosystem or species of animal to discuss. So for this week's blog,  I have decided I wanted to talk about ostriches! 

My first job ever growing up was on an ostrich farm that was right down the road from my parent's house. I was only in grade 8 when I started working there, so I only worked on weekends. My brother worked there so his boss would ask him to bring me in whenever they were busy or just needed some extra hands. At the time ostriches were an animal that I basically knew nothing about, but after working there over that one summer I really learned a lot about them! I would like to use this blog to share some of the stuff I learned.

Ostriches are flightless birds and they are actually the largest bird in the world. When ostriches are babies they grow an average of 11 inches per month for a few months, and when they are fully grown males can grow up to 9 feet tall and females can grow up to 6 feet tall. I am sure most people assume with this great height comes great speed. Ostriches are the fastest two-legged animal in the world and can run up to 70 km/hr covering up to 5 meters in a single stride! Another reason ostriches are able to run so fast is that they have only 2 toes on each foot, with a large nail on the inner toe that resembles a hoof. Seeing these animals sprint in real life was absolutely amazing, but terrifying at the same time. One of the things I found really interesting about ostriches was their eggs. Ostrich eggs are the largest out of any living bird at about 15-20 cm long and the contents inside are equivalent to about 24 chicken eggs! I have actually tried one before and it was really good! Compared to a chicken egg I would say it was much richer, the flavor tasted similar, but just much stronger. 

I would like to talk more about the farm and what we did there. The main thing that people came for was obviously to see the ostriches, so it was me and my brother's job to take people on a farm tour to see adult and baby ostriches. We would use a tractor and a wagon to do this, my brother would drive the tractor through the farm stopping at certain points well I was on the trailer with the customer spreading knowledge about the ostriches. One of the questions we would most frequently get asked is "Can I ride the ostrich?" However, we would never let any customer do that because it can cause significant damage to the bird's back and bones. We also had a gift shop where customers could purchase various ostrich-related things, such as eggs, feathers, fat, skin, and meat in different forms such as hamburgers and steak. 

Overall, I really enjoyed working here because I got to learn so much about ostriches! They have even become one of my favorite animals because of this summer, and an ostrich egg still even sits on a shelf in my room at my parent's house!

[cicadidae-tm9899]

Just saw a post of a tweet like "asking the evil presence in my room if he's mad at me" and i remembered a fun little thing that happned to me yesterday :)

So i have a little shelf in the top corner of my room, directly across from my door, leftover from when i had a bunk bed. I also have various old china vases and pitchers that my grandmother was planning on giving away, so i took 3 or 4. Most sit on a sturdy bookshelf next to my door, safely tucked away in their own little alcove along with some other fragile treasures, but one specific pitcher is up on that shelf.

In this pitcher i place a plastic crow, his name is Jeremy. He's supposed to be stuck into the ground via a stick coming off the bottom of it, but he fits very nicely in the vase.

Anyways, when i put him up there originally and whenever people ask i tell them that he protects me from ghosts. Then for about 3 and a half years, he did just that. He sat on my shelf watching over me and my room, protecting us from malicious spirits.

Then the day before yesterday, my mom asked if she could borrow Jeremy as a prop for her sunday school lesson (idk. Not religious) and i said sure, but be sure to return him asap bc he protects me from ghosts.

Well sunday we get home and jeremy gets set on a table downstairs and i forget to take him upstairs. The weird thing is though, that the second i walk into my room after hours of being away, nothing touching the shelf above my door (not jeremy's. Another one), no earthquakes, house shakes, nothing, a crude sculpture of a bone made by a friend i haven't seen since elementary school falls off the back of the shelf and onto the floor.

It was weird.

#9899 posts #ghosties! #anyways #I'm gonna go check obituaries for my area and make sure my friend hasn't died lol

[damnedparker]

long-lasting

pairing: alex law x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: none; more than implied that reader regularly wears makeup. this is just fluff.

summary: alex loves makeup, maybe more than you. so the two of you have some fun.

it’s been a while. i woke up with an idea this morning and had to get it out.

“Look at these!” Flew excitedly out of your boyfriend’s mouth for about the thousandth time in the twenty minutes you’d been in this store. You sighed, more amused than anything, and turned to see what he had been so excited about.

You can’t tell if bringing Alex to a store full of makeup and other beauty products for the first time was a bad idea or not; judging by his excitement, you were leaning towards good. He hadn’t been out of the house to do something in weeks, and you hadn’t seen him this actively excited about anything in a while since the events in his flat months ago. It was good to see a glimpse of happy Alex again, albeit it was much like handling a child. But you loved him for it.

“Look at all the colors…” His breathy statement was full of wonder as if he was seeing vivid colors for the first time in the form of an eyeshadow palette. His hand left where it had been attached to yours like glue since you had arrived, so he could swatch the colors on his hand, which was already covered in swipes of various other makeup products. You wonder if you should have told him he could do that at all.

Upon letting Alex know you had to leave the comfort of your flat, where he had been staying more and more recently, he was visibly distraught. The two of you hadn’t separated from each other for more than work each day, which you didn’t mind, but you got the feeling Alex was finding a lot of comfort being next to you and was a little afraid of being alone. It’s not something you could blame him for after everything he went through, and you surely couldn’t deny him when he asked to come along. He was your boyfriend, and you loved being around him. At first, you weren’t too sure he would enjoy waiting around while you spent forever looking at makeup, but now it seems you made the right decision in letting him tag along.

“Can we get it?” He looked at you with puppy eyes, and you had to steel yourself, shaking your head no. A pout instantly made itself at home on his expression.

“No, Alex, I have a palette just like that one already.” You slipped your hand in his again and pulled him along to get what you actually came for, some refills on daily makeup you needed.

“Why haven’t I ever seen you wear colors like that then?”

“I dunno, just never have the chance to play with them. And an electric blue isn’t exactly business casual.” You shrugged, grabbing your favorite eyeliner off the shelf.

“Well, you should try it, I think it’d look nice on you,” Alex said, almost absent-mindedly, as he was drawn over to the area of lipstick you were about to pass. “You don’t hardly wear lipstick either! Look at all these options!”

“Just not my thing, and it always gets everywhere. By the end of the day it’s gone, so what’s the point?”

“The point is, it’s fun and it looks pretty.” He cocked an eyebrow at you, a grin slowly forming on his face. He then turned back to the display, his eyes brightening. “Look here! It says this kind is supposed to last twenty-four hours! A solution to your complaints!”

“I highly doubt that’s true, maybe it lasts a few hours at least.” You picked up a tube of bright fuchsia to look at the bottle, squinting at the ingredients. At least it was cruelty-free, you supposed.

“Can we get one?” The puppy eyes were on again. You weren’t sure you could last another round of these.

“Alex… I probably won’t ever wear it.”

“Well, not in that color,” he snatched the bright pink from your grasp, turning back and humming at the array of colors. He traced his hand over a few tubes before finally settling on a classic red color, giving a triumphant smile. “This one’s nice.”

“You’re just saying that because that color looks good on you.” Alex frowned grumpily, tucking his hair behind his ear, a telltale sign of the fact that you were right, and he knew it. But you did also like red lipstick on other people, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad on you. You checked the high price tag and mentally went through the costs in your head. While you were doing so, you suddenly felt a tug at your hand, and Alex was on his way to the checkout.

“If you won’t try it, I will!” He said determinedly. Luckily you had gotten everything you needed already, so you let him pull you along to the cashiers. You shook your head and uselessly tried to protest when Alex added your things to his own transaction, insisting to pay for it. Your boyfriend was many, many things, and being insistently generous with his money was one of them.

Once you got back in his car, Alex started ripping open the plastic on the lipstick tube. You watched him ever so carefully apply the red to his lips. He was so tedious you were in the parking lot for ten minutes just watching him put it on in the sun visor mirror. Always the perfectionist; with his outfits, his hair, and now his makeup.

“What do you think?” He turned to you when he was done, flashing a large smile.

“That color does suit you.”

“Thank you, darling,” he messed with his hair in the mirror one last time before shutting it and turning to you again, leaning across the console of the car to press a kiss to your cheek. He reached up to touch your cheek after, running across where his lips had just been. “Whoa, it didn’t get all over you!”

“I guess it is long-lasting, after all.” You shrugged, rubbing your own cheek to find that, yeah, it really didn’t transfer onto you. “Maybe—” You were cut off by a sudden kiss on the mouth from Alex, then another, and another. You let out a chuckle against his lips during the last long one, putting a hand on his chest.

“Still nothing,” he seemed both amazed and slightly disappointed. “Half the fun of lipstick is getting it all over someone else.” You couldn’t say you disagreed, playing with the ends of his hair for a moment while you had a passing thought about covering Alex’s face in lipstick. Cute.

“Well, I have plenty of shitty lipsticks that will do exactly that at home,” You shrugged, then another idea popped into your mind. “How about we pick up some dinner, and I’ll do the rest of your make-up after?”

“I love you.” Alex grinned, attacking you with another kiss before finally starting the car.

--

Dinner flew by in the next hour, along with a few drinks, and you were back in your bedroom. Alex sat squished next to you on your tiny vanity stool, which was certainly not meant for two, but it’s not like you weren’t comfortable with him nearly pressed against you, currently watching you do your own makeup while he rifled through your small collection, trying to decide on colors he wanted for himself. That didn’t stop him from backseat driving your own decisions, making strong and, honestly, useful suggestions for colors for you.

You were carefully applying your own lipstick, a softer mauve color than Alex’s still present vivid red, when he spoke up again, his chin having found a resting place on your shoulder.

“Can you do, like, a… smoking eye on me? Like super dark and classy.” You had to pause doing your lipstick, unable to prevent the smile from creeping across your lips.

“You mean a smokey eye?”

“Whatever it’s called. I want to look hot,” he mused. “Kinda like when we went to that one party with Juliet? You had all that dark eyeshadow on. You looked really pretty.” Alex hummed, affectionately wrapping his arms around your waist. A bit of heat crept up on your cheeks from his compliment and the sudden warmth of his hug. And the memories of that night. You had work the next day, not intending to be out very late, but Alex sure had kept you up for most of the night, much more compliments flooding out his mouth during your late night.

“You already look hot enough without makeup,” you turned and patted his cheek. He leaned into your touch as you put up the lipstick tube with your other hand, turning back to him with a cheeky grin. “I prefer my men all-natural.”

“Shut up,” he let out a laugh with you, and it flooded your bones with golden happiness. Hearing Alex laugh was encouraging and relieving. They’d been few and far between for the past few months, and it was something you missed. “My turn.”

Putting makeup on Alex was always time-consuming, as he fidgeted a lot, and often had to stop you to say whatever crossed his mind at the moment. You didn’t mind either, used to the way his mind worked. The only times he was ever silent around you was when he was asleep, or when he had been racking his brain about a question for a while, and finally blurted it out to you. You thought it was cute.

Admittedly, you spent a lot longer on Alex’s makeup than yours. One, because smokey eyes were hard as fuck, but also because you wanted him to be happy with it. Regardless, he would be over the moon about whatever you did, but you wanted it to be perfect.

As soon as you were done, you let Alex have the hand-held mirror to look at himself. You watched the happiness creep up his face until he was unable to hold it back. It was contagious, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning your head on his shoulder. His arm fell naturally over your shoulders, squeezing you to him with a kiss to your head. After a moment of quiet, he seemed to get an idea, removing himself regretfully from the embrace to grab your Polaroid camera from your bookshelf. You moved over to your bed as he flopped onto it, snuggling up next to him as he turned the camera around to take a picture of both of you together. One with the two of you smiling, one with him kissing your cheek, and one with his tongue sticking out and you laughing next to him. Afterward, he jumped up from the bed and kneeled over you, encouraging you to pose and let him take photos of you. You tilted your head in amusement.

“Alex, I don’t have much film left.”

“I’ll buy you more, a thank-you gift for my makeup.”

“Alex…” You shook your head, and he put down the camera, leaning over you to give you a kiss. It was round three of puppy eyes, and you were sure you were a goner.

“Please?” He pouted sweetly as he could, his hair hanging down and tickling your cheek. “Baby?”

“Okay, just a few.” You pushed yourself up on your elbows, a wry smile overtaking your lips. Alex always got his way. You were wrapped around his finger, and he was wrapped around yours, although he was more likely to beg you for silly things you normally wouldn’t let yourself do. It was good for you though, he pushed you out of your comfort zone. It was always something you loved about dating him.

A few turned into a few photos of you, and a handful of him as well. Soon, you were both seemingly attached to each other, rolling around on the bed like teenagers with the Polaroids left on the nightstand. Alex pulled away with a grin, adjusting himself to sit up against the headboard with you on his lap. You were a bit dazed, taking a few seconds to come back down from Earth before Alex started giggling.

“I guess this lipstick is only so long-lasting,” he swiped his thumb across your chin, a smear of red confirming what he was saying. You only grinned in return at the mauve streaks all across his mouth, cheeks, and neck. “What?”

“Nothing, you’ve just got a bit of something… everywhere.” You couldn’t hold back more laughter, leaning into him as he started to giggle, too. At a passing thought, you snatched the camera from where it had been half-heartedly discarded next to your pillow. Before he could contain himself and stop laughing, you snapped a photo and tugged the newly printed photo out. Alex’s laughter died down as you re-adjusted yourself to settle between his legs with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, watching the photo slowly develop into view.

“Oh my god, what have you done?” Your boyfriend groaned, with only mirth in his tone. The picture was a near-perfect snapshot of him grinning in laughter, perfectly showcasing the kiss marks scattered all over his face and neck. “My poor, beautiful makeup. It’s all ruined.”

“Actually, I think you look much better like this.”

#alex law x reader #alex law #alex law fluff #alex law let me hold ur hand please #my fics

[animeniac-writings]

The Bone Collector - Beelzebub x Reader

Because I was thinking about things and moving bones. My first OM fic and I’m not too confident in how I did, I hope it’s not too bad. 

Warnings: Bones, Bone regurgitation, Cannibalism? brief, Beel being a sweetiepie

Anime Otome: Obey Me Shall We Date

You had finally been able to bring down some of your belongings from the human realm, one of which was a box of carefully wrapped various animal skulls.

It was just a small collection, nothing amazing, but you cared for them nonetheless. A coyote skull you had found, one you had bought, a tiny mink skull, shark jaws of multiple sizes hung within each other.

The boys didn’t mind, they were demons after all, only giving a curious glance or comment that a human would want such things.

“I just think they’re neat.” was your simple answer if anyone asked.

You were putting away a few other of your things when Beel knocked on your door, shuffling his feet and looking rather awkward when you welcomed him in.

After a moment you find he keeps glancing towards your little shelf and looking away making you chuckle.

“You can hold them if you want Beel, I trust you. “ You’re well aware he gets worried about his strength with things, especially if they’re yours.

But he shakes his head no and furrows his eyebrows and you wonder what he could be thinking so hard on.

“I brought you something for it.” Again he looks a little nervous, fiddling with his sleeve and you put your hand on his arm in hopes of comforting him.

He tilts his head back slightly and swallows before opening his mouth, but it looked wrong. His mouth splits open wider than it should ever be able to, with far too many teeth, pointed and gleaming like a story book’s wolf and becoming a gaping maw that should not be.

It’s at times like this, whatever this is about to be, that you are truly reminded you live amongst demons, something inhuman that never was to begin with.

You can see his something moving up through the skin of his neck, and in his mouth you can see something white breach his throat.

His tongue, also Too Large in this mouth where size or impossibility does not matter, pushes forward cleaned bone while Beel reaches up to remove, followed by another, smaller piece and suddenly Beel’s mouth closes and is back to normal.

He stands in front of you in the middle of your room, completely normal, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and managing to look rather sheepish while holding a large, almost cow shaped skull in his hands.

You stand at a bit of a loss, having just witnessed something you are sure no mortal is meant to see and live through.

He holds the skull out to you though and it’s enough to shake you from your stupor, and you finally take a good look at it.

Clean white bone, four frontward facing eye sockets and what appears to be where two sets of nostrils would have been at the tip, angled to each side. It almost reminds you of a bovine skull in shape, but it’s the horns that seem familiar.

They’re nothing special, a few inches high, round at the base and thin and flat from the center upwards. The jaw, which Beel is fiddling with seeming to now see how to set it back together, has two small tusks and an underbite that makes them more visible.

Yes, you’re quite sure you’ve seen someone who might look like this without their scales and meat on their bones.

“Beel...” You turn the skull in your hands examining the shape of it’s horns a bit. “Is this the demon who worked at the ice cream parlor you took me to?”

“I was hungry...” The pout on his face was almost enough for you to believe him, almost.

“Specifically hungry for the one demon who wouldn’t let me get fudge and caramel on my sundae?”

The red on his cheeks deepens and the sweet attempt in his gesture, both parts of it, are not lost on you.

You carefully set both pieces of the skull on your bed, though you’re sure being a demon and able to withstand melting in whatever happens inside Beel’s stomach and it’s sheer weight that it’s likely durable, but a force of habit.

After wiping off your saliva wet palms onto your pants you cup Beel’s face in your hands and the tense anticipation visibly leaves his shoulders when he automatically leans down for you.

You press a kiss to his cheek, soft and short, and it’s more than enough to make him smile giddily.

“Thank you Beel, that’s very sweet of you and I’ll put it up as soon as I get a stronger shelf.” You pat his cheek lightly before pulling away.

He looks like a puppy under your small bit of cherished praise.

“I’ll get you more for your collection MC, don’t worry.” His precious closed eyed smile is worth far more to you than any skulls.

You dread having to talk him out it before Lucifer finds out though. 

#Beelzebub x reader #Beelzebub imagine #Obey Me imagine #Obey Me x reader #Obey Me fic #OMSWD x reader #OMSWD imagine #Obey Me Beelzebub #Obey Me Shall We Date Beelzebub #my stuff #fic tagging in this fandom is confusing.

[fbfh]

here’s to always finding each other

pairing: percy x gn child of calliope reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: percy kisses reader following a prior agreement that they don’t remember but it’s 100% consentual, you work retail, a hell yeah, memory loss, I think that’s it

summary: You didn’t really expect to have to spend your entire eight hour shift organizing shoe wax any more than you expected your fictional crush from middle school to be real and your boyfriend. Only one of those happened (and the shoe wax was still very disorganized when you left).

song rec: this lofi mix, boba manifesto - chris flemming (mostly as a joke but it slaps)

a/n: i am wOrKiNg oN tHiNgS!!!!!! It’s going well!!! expect some fun surprises soon!!!!!!!!!

Crouched down on the ground, rearranging an end cap of shoe wax in the men’s department wasn’t really what you thought being a grownup would be like as a kid. You can’t complain too much, the pay is pretty good and working conditions are decent - as much as they can be in retail. You stand up to check your progress (and stretch your legs) and notice that guy is still there. He’s been hovering around the athletic shirts and pants for a while, and he keeps checking his phone and looking around. You’re sure he’s probably just waiting for someone, but you’re considering asking if you can help him find anything. 

He has a vaguely familiar energy, and your stomach drops for a moment, hoping you don’t know him from school or something. God, that would be a nightmare. That’s happened to you once or twice, bumping into someone you went to school with, and it’s always as bad as you expect. 

‘You know what,’ you think, trying to see if you can fit the last few containers of wax on the shelf without making them topple over, ‘he’s probably fine. If he needs help he’ll ask for it.’ 

You go back to scanning and adjusting the prices of the clearance shoe polish - the company had changed their packaging recently, so it’s out with the old and in with the identical - but you still can’t shake the feeling of familiarity. 

He turns around, holding up an orange shirt that says ‘go for it’ in a ridiculous font, and you get a glimpse of his face. 

You crouch back down so he won’t catch you staring, and the realization dawns on you. He looks a lot like Percy Jackson from the books you read in middle school. Or was it high school? Everything between 6th grade and high school graduation is kind of blurry and confusing in your memory. Man, you should really re-read those, you heard there was a TV series in the works and you want to remember all the details for when it comes out. You’re a little surprised at how nervous that revelation makes you, like the feeling when you’re a kid going to a theme park and you can see the roller coasters as you pull into the parking lot. Weird. Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a customer who looks like a character from something. One time you saw someone who you swore looked just like Pidge from the Voltron reboot that came out a few years ago, and a coworker saw a girl who looked like an anime character she loves… Raka something? Her name sounded like gravity, but that wasn’t it. You shrug, making a mental note to ask her about it later. 

You stand up once again to take one final look before you move onto the next end cap, and see that the guy is standing next to you. You look up at him, and all those weird feelings of excitement and something close to anticipation amplify, as you get a closer look at him. He really, really looks like Percy Jackson. Like if the Viria art was a real person. 

“Uh… hi, can I help you find anything today?” You ask, snapping out of your daze and into your customer service voice. He takes a second before answering, and you’re a little unnerved by the way he’s looking at you; warm and intimately, like he’s known you for years. 

“No,” he replies, a dreamy tone to his voice, “I’ve got everything I need.” You’re pleasantly surprised and a little freaked out that he even has the accent. Seriously, if he’s not already, this guy should really get into cosplay. Also, is he flirting with you? He seems to realize what he just said, and backtracks slightly. 

“Actually, um, I was wondering if you could help me out with something over here,” he says, and you agree, in your signature chipper tone. He guides you to a table covered in various sweatpants behind a mirror. 

He glances around again, and you have to ask. 

“You know, if you’re having trouble finding someone we can-”

“Walkie customer service to have my group meet me at the front desk.” He finishes seamlessly. 

“It’s not my first time at the rodeo,” he chuckles, and you get the feeling there’s more meaning behind what he’s saying, like an inside joke you’re not a part of. 

“Oh… yeah.” you say, and he can sense your surprise, “How did you…” you trail off, and he can sense the silent question in your voice. He lets out a breathy chuckle, cheeks flushed pink.

“Like this.” 

He catches your face in his hands, and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in shock, mostly at the fact that you don’t feel threatened by his presence at all. You’re shocked at how comfortable you feel around him, how you feel in your bones that you’ve known him for years when the logical side of your brain is telling you that you first saw him ten minutes ago. He pulls away, searching your eyes for… something. 

“Uh…” you glance away, brow slightly furrowed, then back up at him, “what the fuck?” 

His expression softens, and he says gently, “Give it a minute.” 

You’re about to ask him to give what a minute, when a barrage of memories, feelings, people you don’t think you’ve ever met but seemed to be best friends with knocks you off your feet. You try to take in a breath, but the air in the room seems to have taken a temporary vacation from your lungs. 

You look up at him, eyes flared in understanding and shock. He mutters something in confirmation. Someone yells nearby, and you both look over to an adolescent boy asking his mom why he can’t wear neon basketball shorts to school. Percy looks back over at you.

“Is there somewhere a little more-” the mom starts arguing back and forth with her son at a louder volume, and he continues, “private… where we could talk?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll… I’ll get somewhere.”

A few minutes later, you’re sitting across from each other on two step stools in one of the stock rooms. You’re still surprised at how easily you had lied to your boss that your long distance boyfriend showed up a few weeks early after over a year of not being able to see each other, and you needed a moment to catch up. She had agreed readily, asking that you tell her when you’re ready to get back to your tasks. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he starts, snapping you out of your train of thought, and you look up at him, “I never would have kissed you without asking, but you made me promise last time that the next time you lose your memories I would get them back to you as fast as I can.” 

“Uh, it’s okay, I feel like I remember talking about that.” Your memories are still fuzzy, but coming back sporadically.

“It can take a few days for them to come back fully.” He adds. 

The most surreal part of this is you remember vividly what happened in the books - because you lived through it. You hold back a giddy laugh bubbling up.

“So…” you begin, and he looks at you, his gaze warm, “it’s all real?” you breathe the words, almost afraid of an answer. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking away briefly, overwhelmed that you’re with him once again.

“The short version is, since your godly parent is Calliope, you sometimes get sent to other worlds. You kind of have to hop scotch from one place to another, like getting a goldfish used to a new bowl of water. The mist - or sometimes,” he glances up, pointedly and irritable, “other factors - usually take away a lot of your memories. They say it’s to make the transition easier, but who knows. Anyway, there are these waypoints, kind of like a time loop that you hang out in until you’re either ready to leave or one of us finds you first.”

“So this…” you motion around to the rows of cardboard boxes filled with plastic cups and paper towels. He nods and you let out a laugh of relief that you really won’t have to work here long term. 

“As soon as you’re ready we should probably head out to camp. It’s gonna be a bit of a drive.” 

“Wait, it’s all like… here? Like in this world?”

“Yeah,” he smiles again, once more sending butterflies through your chest. 

You let out a disbelieving, excited laugh.

“Alright. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.” 

Before you can get up, he takes your hand in his. He watches his fingers skim back and forth for a minute before looking up at you. 

“You know that I’ll always find you, right?” there’s an overwhelming torrent of emotions he’s somehow managing to convey through his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter where you go, or how long you’re gone, or if we even remember each other. I will always find you.” His hand comes up to your cheek for the second time today, and your head tilts into his embrace automatically. You somehow trust him more than anyone or anything else right now. You nod gently.

“I do.”

He glances away again, cheeks flushing red, and he sighs, kissing your forehead. 

You get up and head towards the exit together, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“How about we get some bubble tea once we’re in the city?”

“Oh hell yeah!” 

You don’t remember the last time you had bubble tea, but it sounds really, really good right now. 

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x gn reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

[double-aa-batteries]

Jerejean appreciation week 2021 (day 1: smile/laughter)

TW for talk of knives and cutting (brief), implied reference to past rape, and mentions of Riko and his demonic grin

@jerejean-appreciation-week

Jean remembers the first time he saw Jeremy smile at him.

He had just gotten off a five hour plane ride and his entire body screamed at him. Every bone inside him ached and his mind was running a million miles an hour from being alone on a plane for five hours and from the anticipation of meeting his new captain. He got to the terminal and there was Jeremy waiting for him. When his eyes met Jean’s, they lit up, and his mouth spread into a gaping grin that rearranged the skin on his face and made his eyes squint.

Jean had shuddered.

He remembers thinking that a smile like that couldn’t possibly be genuine. He remembers thinking back to Riko’s manic grin and comparing the two, missing the obvious differences. He remembers thinking that smile was going to be the new source of all his pain.

Riko had smiled when he dug his knife into Jean’s stomach, drawing various shapes and letters, a big ‘R’ among them. He had smiled when he dug his knife into Jean’s arms. His back, his chest, his thighs. He had smiled when he ordered another Raven into Jean’s bed. When Jean cried out against the hands holding him down and the bare skin against his. Riko had always smiled widest when Jean couldn’t hold back his obvious fear, and pain, when Riko knew for sure how much he was hurting based on the cries, wales, and pleas that escaped Jean’s mouth without his consent.

Every time Riko had smiled at Jean flashed across Jean’s mind when Jeremy had first smiled at him, and, through the panic and memories and sheer fear, he couldn’t tell the difference.

-   -   -

The first time he saw a difference between Jeremy and Riko’s smiles was two days after Jean had arrived at the Trojans. He and Jeremy were going grocery shopping.

Jean’s heart was racing, and he was trying to discreetly survey his surroundings while also keeping his head obediently lowered so as not to draw unwanted attention.

Jeremy had stopped at a shelf in the drinks and sodas aisle.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Jeremy said. He picked up an energy drink and stared at the label. Jean was wondering what was wrong when a slow smile spread across Jeremy’s face. It was the same grin as before, but Jean swore he saw a difference in it now.

“Jean, they have the good energy drinks! They never have this brand. Fuck yes!”

Jean didn’t respond. He was too busy looking at the way Jeremy’s skin crinkled around the corners of his eyes and how they sparkled with delight.

Jean had never seen anything like that in any of Riko’s grins.

He replayed the action, the slow spreading grin, the wrinkles around the eyes, the sparkles in the irises, and the dimples that appeared in his cheeks for the next few hours. He held onto the memory like a small desperate animal, trying to find other differences so that he could convince himself Jeremy was not like Riko.

And he did. He found more little differences. More of Jeremy’s teeth showed when he smiled than when Riko did. He noticed the way Jeremy’s lips formed into a grin, curling up carefully but uncontrollably. Riko’s lips had always stretched over his teeth, like there were fangs hidden somewhere underneath. It had always looked painful the way his lips stretched over his face to become thin lines, curling up just a bit at the corners. That was another difference, Jeremy’s lips were plumper where Riko’s were thin and chapped, and the grin on Jeremy’s face looked like someone had grabbed his smile by the corners and pulled them up his face, as high as they would go. Riko’s grins looked like two lines across his face with the corners pinched up.

And of course, there was one significant difference: the reasons they each smiled. Riko grinned at other people’s pain and only then. Jean had never even seen him grin at the win of an exy game.

But Jeremy. Jeremy smiled at anything and everything. He smiled like he was a child and the world was made of candy. He smiled as he made coffee in the mornings. He smiled at strangers on the street. He smiled when he found the pair to his sock that he had thought he’d lost. He smiled when the grocery store sold his favorite kind of energy drink. He even smiled at Jean, as baffling as that may have been. Jeremy smiled when he was happy. And it just so happened that almost everything made him happy.

Jean had wondered what it was like to live like that.

-   -   -

The first time Jean realized Jeremy’s smile was all his own and nothing like Riko’s at all was three months into his stay with the Trojans. Jeremy had been making Jean breakfast, because that was something he did apparently. Jean sat down at a stool behind the counter and rubbed at his eyes. His whole body ached from exhaustion because of a particularly bad spell of nightmares that week.

Jeremy set a plate of eggs down in front of Jean and hovered in that way that meant he wanted to ask Jean something but wasn’t sure if he should or not. “Hey, Jean, um, I wanted to ask, are you sleeping through the night? I mean, you just looked kind of tired lately and I wanted to ask is all.”

“I’m alright,” Jean said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Ok,” Jeremy said carefully. “If you’re sure. I’m just a bit worried. You look like a racoon with all the black around your eyes.” Jeremy cracked a nervous grin. He did that a lot.

“I’m fine,” Jean said, not unkindly.

“Ok…” Jeremy said slowly. “If there’s anything I can do, really, just let me know. Do you sleep at all at night?”

Jean shifted the eggs around his plate with his fork. “Of course not,” Jean said, deadpan, “racoons are nocturnal.” He looked up at Jeremy sharply. He hadn’t meant to let his tongue slip and make a joke, but to his surprise, Jeremy didn’t look alarmed, or mad, or even too curious.

His eyebrows shot up and a fast, surprised grin spread across his face, a genuine one that looked like it would split his face. One that made the corners of Jean’s lips tug up. He had to force them back down.

Jeremy let out a soft laugh and didn’t stop grinning. “Was that a joke? Oh my god, Jean, did you just make a joke?”

Jean couldn’t look away. He couldn’t turn away from Jeremy’s smile, even though he knew he needed to brush off Jeremy's words and return to his breakfast, because for the first time Jean had realized that Jeremy’s smile was his. For the first time, Jean hadn’t caught himself trying to compare it to Riko’s. For the first time, Jean realized that the grin on Jeremy’s face was 100% Jeremy Knox.

It was 100% sunshine.

-   -   -

The first time Jeremy had smiled and Jean realized he was in love was a year after they had both graduated USC and were living on their own, both playing for pro teams. It had been nothing special or monumental in the least, but Jean will remember the moment forever.

They had been walking in a park-because it was California and it was always walking-in-a-park weather, and Jeremy had wanted to go out. The sun was shining brightly, as it often did in California. Jeremy’s curly hair was ruffled, he was wearing those stupid circular wire-frame glasses of his that made him look even more beautiful than usual, and his knitted tan sweater hung perfectly off his shoulders, the sleeves going down to the tips of his fingers. Everything spoke of Jeremy.

Jeremy had slipped his hand into Jean’s as they strolled across the park. He was going on about his little sister, relaying to Jean everything she had told Jeremy the last time they had spoken.

Jean glanced over at Jeremy as he was talking about his sister’s latin convention.

He was gorgeous.

He was grinning and staring up at the sun as he talked, squinting from its brightness. Jean admired the way the light hit his boyfriend’s tanned skin and glinted off his golden curls that were still messy from sleep.

And he realized, suddenly and spectacularly, that he loved Jeremy so much.

“What?” his boyfriend asked softly.

Jean only realized now that Jeremy had stopped his babbling and the two of them had stopped their walking and now they were simply staring at each other.

“Nothing,” Jean responded. “I said nothing.”

Jean felt his stomach churn in a way that was becoming more and more familiar as Jeremy’s fingers tightened around his.

“Yeah, but, you’re just staring at me, looking like,” Jeremy gestured vaguely at Jean with his free hand, “that.” He grinned again, lips stretching up in a blissfully happy and carefree smile.

That grin. It was gorgeous and it was one of Jean’s favorite things on earth.

“It’s just- You’re beautiful,” Jean had said softly, blushing. “I love you,” he had said, even softer.

And Jeremy had kissed Jean through his smile.

-   -   -

Jean heard the front door click open and then shut and then the ever familiar sound of his boyfriend’s voice.

“Jean, I’m home,” he announced.

Jean looked up from his book and watched as Jeremy walked from the front door of their apartment to where Jean was sitting on their couch.

Jeremy smiled at him before leaning down to greet him with a gentle, slow kiss. His hand brushed Jean’s cheek before he pulled away, smiling a soft smile again.

Jean let his lips tug up as Jeremy walked back to the front door in order to take off his shoes and jacket.

“I was thinking of pasta for dinner tonight,” he said, while pushing his shoes onto the shoe rack with his foot.

“I will help,” Jean replied, closing his book and leaving the couch.

#jerejean #jeremy knox #jean moreau #jerejean fic #jerejean appreciation week 2021 #aftg #all for the game #all for the game fic #nemsi's writing #ill probably post this on ao3 soon too #i just have to come up with a real title first

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader

[pynkhues]

i know this scene was from forever ago but i’m still caught up on it and i’d love to hear other perspectives. the scene in season 3 when beth is keeping the $10 plates in her house and dean destroys one: he says "you don’t kill something you love", referring to rio not being able to kill beth, but just because we as the audience know he won’t kill her doesn’t mean beth isn’t experiencing legitimate fear for her life. it always pissed me off that he so clearly believed that you don’t kill what you love, but here he is dangling her life on a hook and still claiming to love her. leaving a man is much easier said than done, but i wish they’d at least explored more of a dynamic shift

Ooof, I completely agree, anon, it wrecks me.

I did a six-part workshop series with a script editor a few weeks ago, and it was immensely interesting and rewarding overall, but one of the things she said that really stuck with me is that in a scene, you should always have three things happening. Those three things can range in scope and scale, in type of conflict and exchange and emotion, but those three things are what's going to create texture and authenticity, because in reality, there's never just one thing happening.

That scene with Dean, Beth and the plate in 3.05 is a perfect example of that because there is so much happening. There's the immediate action of Dean having found the plate and deciding to destroy it, there's his exhaustion, his anger, his jealousy, there's the immediate history of Rio trying to kill Beth, the business of these plates being her only leverage, and her extended history with Rio of their intimacy being forefront in Dean's mind. It's this complete cocktail of anger and pain and a bone-deep lack of understanding of one another, and the way that it catapults the tension in that scene is honestly one of my favourite things.

It feels like such a white knuckled grip of a scene giving way to this sort of simultaneous wave of dread and grief because Dean's not wrong, but as you said it, Beth doesn't know that, especially not at that point in the show, and Dean knows what Rio's capable of. Hell, he was on the receiving end of it.

It's infuriating because it works as a scene. Dean's right about one thing, but wrong about everything surrounding that thing, which we know because we know the context, which ultimately makes for a delicious emphasis of how little Beth and Dean know and understand each other at this point in the story.

I actually like that the scene sort of happened in isolation too? I liked that Beth suffered the consequences and that she never told Dean, and that the season went on to emphasise how much Beth wraps Dean in bubblewrap and puts him on a shelf to be brought down only when she has use for him, because I think it feels authentic to the aftermath of that fight. Beth sees Dean as a child she's responsible for, but also one she wants to wheel out and have perform for her friends when she needs him to. It's a deeply toxic dynamic and I think she knows it from the guilt we've seen her battle across various episodes, particularly with his arrest, and it's a role I think Dean's more and more starting to realise he occupies.

I can't wait to see the scene with the two of them and Rio in the backroom of Paper Porcupine. I think we're about to see it all come to a fresh head.

#gg 3.05 #crime time #beth boland #rio #dean boland #staying's worse than leaving #welcome to my ama

[barnesbabee]

Hidden || S.M

Summary: ‘Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back’

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Words: Plenty I’d say

Genre: Smut

A/N: This is, by far, the filthiest smut I’ve ever written. It’s also my favourite. Enjoy! (There’s many kinks and harsh things described, if you’re not into that maybe this isn’t your cup of tea....)

@mangotexts​ was a babe for helping me with the beginning of the plot, love u <3

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :)))))

-  WARNING! There’s some very harsh/sensitive things described in detail -

  It wasn't supposed to be this way, it couldn't. Yet here you were, desperately scrolling down Craigslist in hopes someone was looking to share their flat.

 College started in two days, and you had had no luck finding somewhere to live. You were starting to lose hope, and the best options were either staying in a hotel until you found a place, which you definitely couldn't afford, or get a place far away from your campus, which would force you to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning and spend a bunch of money in transportation every day.

   Just as you were about to lose hope, your eyes landed on an ad with the title 'Flatmate needed'. Your eyes glanced over the description and requirements. Everything seemed fine, until you saw the profile of the ad owner: it was a man. You didn't know about moving in with an unknown man... It certainly wasn’t the ideal, but you had no other options.

  You sighed and messaged him nevertheless, saying you were interested.

  "Well if he kills me I won't have to pay for college anymore..."

  The flat owner was quick to reply to your message, and you soon arranged a meeting.

  Mingi and you became close very quickly. You were surprised (and lucky to be honest) to find such a heart-warming and kind man ready to welcome you into his flat.

  Your worries washed away in less than a week of living with him, and every day was a blast with Mingi. He had the most fun, brightest personality, and you honestly loved having him around.

  Everyone had a dark side, you knew it, you just thought that Mingi happened to be an exception, but oh were you about to be proven wrong.

  Mingi had left the house about ten minutes ago, and you were frantically looking for your phone's charger, that he had hidden as a punishment for ‘not replacing the empty toilet roll’, again.

  "Goddammit Mingi..." You cursed under your breath as you looked through every drawer and shelf in the house.

 After looking through the kitchen, living room, and even the bathroom there was only one place left: his bedroom.

 You didn't want to go in while he wasn't home because, well, privacy. But your phone was about to die and you had no idea where the fuck he had gone or how long he'd take. You opened the door and started looking through his drawers, through his desk and even under his covers, but nothing. The only place you hadn't checked was his wardrobe, but you highly doubted he'd just hang your charger along with his sweaters.

   You ignored the fact and opened it nevertheless, and immediately regretted it.

   You froze in place, your hands still placed on the white doors of the wardrobe, unable to move. Your eyes were glued to the various sex toys displayed before you. You shouldn’t have been there, you shouldn’t have seen it and yet you couldn’t look away...

  There was everything in the wardrobe: ropes, chains, gags, butt plugs, vibrators, you name it. Every kind of extravagant sex toys was in that closet of Mingi's.

 You couldn't move, and even when you heard footsteps coming closer and eventually stopping right behind you, you remained immobile.

 You felt a pair of large hands grab your waist, and a man breathing against your neck.

  "Do you like my collection?"

  Mingi's lust-filled voice seemed deeper than usual, and it sent shivers down your spine.

  You didn't speak, you just let your hands, that had been holding the wardrobe doors, fall beside your body. Mingi chuckled and pulled you back by the waist, making his semi-hard dick press against your ass.

  "Do you wanna try them on you Y/N, hm?"

 You didn't even know what you were doing, but the man's deep, seductive voice, his dick pressed against you and the view before your eyes... It made you horny and curious, and you found yourself slowly nodding to his question.

  He turned you around harshly and looked you in the eye.

  "I need you to tell me you want this, because when I start I won't be able to stop it." He asked you, as his hands caressed your curves.

  You were scared but excited at the same time. There was a mix of emotions flowing through your body, but the rush of the moment overcame it all and you gave into his touch.

   "I want this Mingi." You assured him.

  Although you tried to hide it, Mingi could still spot the nervousness in your voice.

  "It's okay princess, if you think I'm going too far tell me to stop, okay?"

   You nodded along to his statement, giving the man the green card to make you his.

  His hands roamed around your body and his lips attacked yours as if he'd be waiting for this all his life. His fingers played with the waistband of your sweatpants and pulled them down slowly, never breaking the kiss. Once they fell down to your feet you stepped out of them and kicked the piece of clothing somewhere else. Mingi's lips trailed down to your neck and exposed collar bone. He nibbled on your skin, biting down and sucking harshly on the most sensitive spots.

  Your hands, previously resting on his biceps, traveled up to his hair. You tugged on it and threw your head back, giving him all the access he wished for.

   Mingi's hands went up your body and into your shirt, cupping your exposed breasts in the process. It was Saturday, you weren't planning on leaving the house and as per usual you didn't wear a bra on a lazy day. Generally, not having a bra would be a plus, even a turn on sometimes, but Mingi got off on seeing underwear, and slowly peeling it off, so the absence of it annoyed him. He pulled away from the kiss and removed your t-shirt.

   He stepped away from your body and analyzed you head to toe.

   "No bra, hm? Such a slut... I'll have to punish you for that."

   "But I never wear-"

    He wrapped his fingers around your throat and squeezed it.

    "Do not speak when you're not asked to."

    You nodded at his words. God you looked so innocent under his touch... You looked so, so appetizing to him. He didn't retrieve his hand, he just cocked his head to the side and looked at you for a second, imagining all the ways he could break you.

   Eventually he removed his hand and looked over to the bed, motioning you to get on it. You quickly complied and sat on his bed, anxious yet excited for what was about to come. You saw him fumble around in one of the drawers of the wardrobe but you couldn't tell what he was looking for, until he turned around.

   In his hands, Mingi held a blindfold and two ropes. Your eyes shot up at him with a questioning look. He smiled mischievously and knelt on the bed.

   Mingi grabbed your right wrist and wrapped one of the ropes around it, then proceeding to tie it to the bedpost. He moved onto the left wrist and did the same.

   You looked at him with worried eyes. Upon noticing this, Mingi kissed your left cheek lightly.

   "Don't worry princess, I'm gonna make you feel so good." He told you, and then blindfolded you.

    You heard him get off the bed and fumble with something, which you assumed were his clothes that he was stripping from.

     His cold hands ran up and down your body. His index finger hooked around the waistband of your panties and he pulled them, just to let them go afterward, causing the elastic to slap against your waist.

   You winced a little and he slapped your ass.

   "You can make noise only when I tell you to, got it?"

   You bit your lip and nodded. Every time his hands left your body you wondered what he would do next, and the blindfold, preventing you from even trying to guess what he was about to do, made your original excitement double.

   Mingi's fingers ran up and down your womanhood from the outside of your panties. You spread your legs wider for him as he felt the wet spot in your underwear get bigger and bigger. The man eventually pushed your panties to the side, never removing them, so your core was exposed to him.

   He appreciated it for a second before licking a strip along it. His tongue licked your pussy up and down and swirled around your clit, before entering you.

   Upon feeling his tongue fucking you and his thumb apply pressure on your clit, you bit down on your lip and grabbed the ropes attached to your wrists.

   You tried your best to keep quiet, and you were succeeding. Mingi didn't like that, so he replaced his tongue with two fingers and you immediately let a loud moan escape your lips.

   "Tch... You can't keep quiet for me, can you? Well maybe I should punish you the way you deserve."

   Mingi pulled your soaked panties off of you and reached for something in his nightstand.

   "Open up." He demanded and you opened your mouth.

   He quickly shoved a metal object in it, and you swirled your tongue around it before he removed it. He did nothing for a second, but you then felt the saliva-covered object push into your ass. A butt plug.

   You kicked the mattress under you as he entered the full thing. He slapped your inner thigh harshly.

   "Behave. Or else I won't let you come today." He threatened, and you shivered at his dominant tone.

   You could only nod at him. He told you to open your mouth once more and you complied. He shoved a gag in your mouth and tied it around your head.

    "Since my little slut can't keep quiet I'll just have to shush her myself," he grabbed the sides of your face violently "right?"

    You nodded once more, since it was all you could do. Once Mingi let go of your face he looked at you once more and chuckled.

    So little, so pretty, so innocent... All spread out just for him. Yearning for his touch. Mingi wanted to break you in so many ways. He jerked himself at the sight for a second, he wanted to fuck you so bad... But he didn't want the fun to be over just yet. He still needed to hear you beg, gagged and restrained like that.

   Mingi grabbed the vibrator he had put in the nightstand and turned it on. Just by the sound you knew what awaited you and you shivered.

   The man teased you by playing with it around your clit first. Your jaw began to hurt, from biting down on the gag ball so hard. He then inserted it in you slowly, and pushed it out just as slowly. You lifted your hips and bucked them up, trying to get as much contact with the vibrator as possible. The action made you earn a harsh slap to your ass.

   "You greedy girl..." He teased.

   He sped up his hand movements with the vibrator and increased the strength he did it with. Your breaths became heavy, your chest raised and fell quickly,  your legs started shaking and your abdomen was flexed as you forced your orgasm to hold back. Mingi noticed it and decided to torture you a little more. His thumb played with your clit and you started tugging on the ropes around your wrists, trying your best to distract yourself.

   "Come for me princess, come on."

   Once he allowed you, you released all of the tension built up and let your orgasm flow. What you didn't expect, however, were the strings of fluid being expelled from you, as your legs shook. It had never happened to you before, but you could tell you had just squirted all over Mingi.

   "Oh my God..." He growled.

   He pulled the blindfold off of your eyes and threw it somewhere, discarding the gag just as quickly. Your eyes were watery and there was drool all over your lips and cheeks.

   "You are so getting rewarded for that princess."

   His lips latched onto yours as he violently made out with you. He bit and sucked on your lower lip while one of his hands pinched and tugged on your left nipple. He kissed down your body until his lips were sucking on your right nipple.

   When he pulled away, he stood on his knees and looked down at you, appreciating the view once more. You looked so fucked out, he loved it. The teary eyes, the plump red lips, the marks of the gag on your cheeks, his bites showing up on your neck, and your red inner thighs that had the marks of his hands... God he could do this all week long.

    He flicked his tip over your clit a couple times.

    "Beg for me princess. I wanna hear how bad you want me."

    "Please Mingi, please fuck me! I've been waiting for so long and I behaved, please put your cock in me!" You begged, with your best innocent face.

    Mingi rammed into you with no mercy. He grabbed your hips for stability and pushed in and out of you violently.

    This man's stamina had no end.

    You were a moaning mess under his touch and you loved it.

    "That's right princess, moan for me. You look so pretty with my cock in you."

    You let out a whimper as one of his hands moved out of your hips to play with the butt plug.

    With his dirty praises, teases, and groans you clenched around him and came for the second time. Your whole body was trembling from the slight overstimulation, your mouth was open, and your were eyes closed in pleasure.

     Mingi pulled out of you and skillfully undid the ropes around your wrists. He got out of the bed and pointed at the floor beside him.

     "Kneel." He demanded.

    You quickly got on your knees for him and opened your mouth obediently, knowing exactly what he wanted.

    He grabbed your hair into a ponytail and brought your mouth to his dick. You wrapped your lips around the tip and swirled your tongue around it. You then wrapped one of your hands around his length as you took as much of him as you could, while the other one rested on his thigh.

   Mingi's hand, that was gripping your hair, pushed your face down on his cock, forcing you to take him all him. You gagged as he repeated this a couple of times.

   Finally, he removed his cock from you when he felt his orgasm coming and started jerking himself off.

    "Come all over me, Mingi, please..." You begged breathlessly, looking up at him innocently while you stuck out your tongue.

   The look on your face made it impossible not to come, and so he did. Mingi came all over your face, with a loud groan and a praise on how good you looked.

    He sat down on the bed, trying to catch his breath. You were both sweaty and panting. His hair was stuck to his forehead and a bead of sweat could be seen rolling down the side of his cheek.

   "Was I too rough?" He asked.

   "Nope." You replied wearing a smile, with his cum dripping down your chin.

   God, you were precious.

#mingi #song mingi #mingi smut #ateez #ateez smut #mingi imagine #ateez mingi smut #mingi ateez #kpop #kpop smut #kpop imagine #ateez mingi imagine #song mingi smut

[dragonbabezee]

Fictional Crush Series No.7

Have we made it to the 90′s yet?  We have!

What’s this you say?  The Outlander series didn’t premier until 2014?  Well!  There just happens to be an antiquated technology called books in with this particular tale was first created.

Let me set the scene.  It’s 1993.  I’m at the library with my dad.  I feel like I’ve read the entire YA section, and I’ve run out of David Eddings and Anne McCaffery books to read.  I complain to my dad that I have sucked this library dry.  He reaches into the Returned Today Shelf of unsorted books and grabs one at random.  “Here, you haven’t read this yet.”  It was this, a first edition copy of Outlander:

Perhaps he though it was an historical novel set in the highlands.  It kind of is...?  

To prove to him that plucking ugly books at random off the shelf was no was to pick a quality read, I read it.   First came intrigue, then delight, then fascination and compulsion, then welling tides of love and lust, and the feels! So many feels!

For those very few who are still unfamiliar with the Outlander universe, it’s a genre-bending book and series, especially the first three books, combining historical fiction, time travel, romance, blood, gore, sexual violence, medical ickiness, touches of mythical fantasy and magic, mystery, and a big slabbing helping of hot sexy sex.  

https://www.deviantart.com/aryundomiel/art/the-heart-asks-pleasure-first-181601743

Oh, and this hunk of red-blooded, red-haired Scot!

That means “I am ready” for everyone who doesn’t read French or hasn’t read the book.  I was 15.  I was ready.  My parents may have disagreed if they had known what was behind that twee bookcover.

James Alexander Malcolm McKenzie Fraser, Jamie to some, and JAMMF to the old school fandom.  Oh course, now we have Sam Heughan to envision Jamie as, but back in the day we used a read words off a page and picture Jamie et al in our minds.   I don’t think they did a bad job of casting Jamie.  Sam is of course, too short, and his hair is not red enough, but I give it a pass.

What makes Jamie Fraser a worthy subject of a lasting fictional crush that rocked my world?  He is an enlightened and modern thinker of the Enlightenment era, meaning that he does still kinda believe in witches and faeries, but also in science, and can eventually be persuaded to not beat his wife for wrongdoing (after a knife to the throat).  He is a soldier, a mercenary, an expert swordsman, can ride any horse, even a demonic stallion that no one else can master, a farmer, a landlord, a leader of men, a student of science and progress, a virgin at the beginning of the first book, and a sex-god by the end of it.  

Packaged in a 6 foot 6 Viking-esque warrior’s body, like a red-haired, blue-eyed demon set on Earth to sway our time-travelling heroine Claire off the path of marital fidelity.  It could be said that he is the ultimate Gary Sue.  He does have flaws though, mostly pertaining to pride and being a man of his day, even if he is a progressive one.  He is the prototype that launched a thousand Highlander romance novels.

The most singularly swoonworthy thing about Jamie though is how much he loves his woman.  The end.

https://www.deviantart.com/ellaine/art/Blood-and-Bone-567354322

https://www.deviantart.com/ellaine/art/Wild-strawberries-576708467

You want more detail?  Oh, fine, SPOILERS AHEAD.

He will save his wife from his worst and most feared enemy, armed only with an unloaded pistol, even though he thinks she’s probably an English spy bent on turning him and his folk as traitors to the crown.

https://www.deviantart.com/lehanan/art/Outlander-Take-your-hands-off-my-wife-486871484

He will single-handedly rescue her from the midst of a witch trial that is in the process of condemning her, even though he’s fairly sure she really is a witch.

He will trade his soul and his body to keep her alive.  He will believe the insane truths she tells him, and based on them, betray his kin and his King.  What impressionable young hetro woman doesn’t want that level of devotion from her man?

At the opening of the book, Jamie has already been through a lot - imprisonment and two disfiguring floggings, exile, the soldiers life. near starvation, serious head injury, family intrigue, the death of both his parents....and he’s only 22.  And yet, Jamie is still fairly optimistic character, aside for when he or his wife are getting tortured, raped, nearly killed etc.  He’s not one to wallow unnecessarily in his Man Pain.  Until he is, and then grab the popcorn and watch Claire drain the pool.

While we’re here, I’d like to point out a few unexpected treats and differences that I got from the show that I didn’t get from the books.

1) Jamie’s knees

2)  The flogging and several other violent scenes that were disturbing enough in the books became Extremely Uncomfortable and Upsetting Viewing.  If you’ve seen the show or read the books you probably know what scenes I am talking about.

3) they didn’t hold back on the sex scenes.  Many gifs from the various scenes would get this post removed from Tumblr.  Many were so hot I was blushing whilst watching it alone.  DO NOT WATCH WITH YOUR PARENTS.

I have read all the books of course, though I mainly concentrated on the first one here, the one that spawned my crush.  IT was a couple of years before I got my hands on books 2 and 3, and the fourth one hadn’t been written yet (I did get to go to a book signing and have my copy of Drums of Autumn signed by Diana Gabadon, Herself!).  My parents remembered my love for the series, unfortunately, and tried watching the TV when it came out.  My dad finally saw the error of plucking a book at random from a shelf to give to his 15 year old daughter to read.

#fictional crush series #Fictional Crush #jamie fraser #outlander #jammf

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 34

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

Your hand felt warm and soft in his, and just the right size for holding on the way back to the Tower. The day turned to evening, and the evening into an early night before you even realised. Street lamps were already fighting off the crisp darkness as Loki and you strode through the thin layer of fresh snow. 

It had been an interesting day. Loki looked at the small figurine, bearing some unmistakable similarities to the way he had looked back during the New York invasion. Finding it on the shelves of a shop you took him to was a strange feeling. There were so many different ones, both of him and the Avengers, and even people he could only guess were some other heroes or important figures on Earth. It was clear from looking at them that whoever had created them, paid great attention to details and colors.

The face underneath his favourite golden helmet looked slightly off, if Loki had to be painfully honest, but it wasn't completely wrong either. The wrinkles of the cape, and the leathery fabric of his armor were like their real counterparts. He could almost feel it on him as he looked at the tiny version of himself you insisted on purchasing. 

Loki wasn't sure why it had been put on the same shelf as the Avengers, and your explanation wasn't very helpful. He didn't feel angry, though, just a little confused. 

It felt fragile in his palm, so he made sure to handle it with care. For reasons unknown to him, you insisted that you wanted to put it in your room, preferably by the window so that it could be as close to snow as possible. Loki didn't follow your line of argument, but the care you talked about it with warmed his heart. 

Loki was still holding it when you walked into the elevator, and was smiling softly as the automatic doors opened to let you enter the common area of the floor. 

More precisely, the sitting area that was currently in use. 

"This is awkward," you said as the two of you stopped in front of the Avengers, in an atmosphere so heavy and tense that it could be cut with a knife. 

For some reason, Peter was there too, sat in the back, between a stone-faced Steve and Natasha whose mood was, as usual, unreadable. 

Thor, with his back to you, stared or pretended to stare through the window. He had his cape off, and you could see Mjolnir put down nearby. Banner was standing next to it, completely lost in nervous cleaning of his glasses with the hem of his shirt. 

"It's almost as if they have been waiting for us, like a puppy left at home for too long," Loki said lightly, but the joke didn't reach his eyes. They scanned the brightly lit room with a trained intensity. 

The hand still holding yours tightened. 

"Where have you been?" Steve asked flatly. 

"Out." 

"Why?" 

You shrugged. "We kinda prefer a company of people who know how to have fun. What have you been doing here all this time? Having a stare off? Discussing the bills?" 

You could've sworn there was a shadow of a smile on Natasha's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it happened. Peter, on the other hand, was sitting very, very still with his back uncomfortably straight, looking around with wide eyes. It was clear he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Most likely, he just wanted to come by the Tower to talk everyone's ears off about how his totally-not-a-date went. It looked like he was unlucky enough to get involved in whatever was going on. 

"This is really not the right time for jokes.” Tony massaged his temples, as if whatever headache he had could be worked off by regular circles. 

"And that's why it's always so serious in here-" 

Tony huffed and fished something out of the pockets of his suit. He almost pushed it into your hands before you could even protest. Loki watched him with an ice-cold glare and you could've sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees. 

"The hell is this?" you frowned, unpacking a few photos of various shapes and sizes. Loki peered over your shoulder. 

And smiled. 

Tony felt his blood boil. "May I ask when precisely did you plan to inform us of your little 'engagement'...?" 

The photos were all from different places, but they had two things in common. One was you. The other was Loki. The enchantment put on him prevented strangers from recognizing his features, but it did nothing against people who had already been acquainted with him - like the Avengers. 

An uncontrollable wave of laughter erupted out of you as you looked at all the stupid, love-sick poses that had granted you so much free cake all those weeks ago. So much had happened since then, both in general and in between the two of you, it was actually hilarious that something like that had finally resurfaced. 

Tony was far from sharing your mood. "I have no idea what is so funny, but I was far from laughing when Happy noticed those in my favourite bakery while getting doughnuts. And he was even less happy than usual to find similar atrocities committed in other places-" 

That was too much for you. You bent in half, shaking and flushed. Loki didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked strangely satisfied while looking through the photos. 

Steve cleared his throat. "When did you-" 

"I KNEW IT!" 

Everyone started when Peter finally broke. Before anyone managed to stop him, Peter leaped off the couch and closed Loki and you in a bone crushing hug. "I love you guys so much and I'm so happy for you." 

Clint, who had been completely silent up to that point, and to be honest also more than a little confused, asked "Wait, so you knew about them this whole time? Why is no one telling me shit? Why am I always the last one to know?" 

Natasha patted his knee and silenced him. She was having way more fun than she had originally anticipated. The colors changing on Tony's face in a rapid succession were truly a work of art. 

Peter stared at Loki with pure, unfiltered adoration in his eyes that even your breathless choking couldn't break. "I didn't know about the engagement, but it all makes so much sense now. Please, Mr. Mischief, can I be a flower boy at your wedding? I've always wanted to, but Aunt May never allowed me, but I promise I'll be the best flower boy ever, I swear it!" 

The colors on Tony's face stopped changing. He walked over to the cabinet and took hold of the whisky bottle. 

Steve looked as if he needed that kind of support too, but tried his best to hold it together. Thor, to Loki's great surprise and even greater suspicion, still stood in front of the window. The only sign that he was indeed listening to the mess unraveling in the brightly lit living room were the whitened knuckles of his hands. 

Peter misunderstood Loki's silence for a no. The boy dropped to his knees and hugged Loki's leg tightly. "Please, Mr. Loki! Don't leave me out of this, I've been supporting you from the very beginning! I have every comic book made about you and every figurine available on eBay and I even wrote an essay about the Nordic pantheon last year!" 

The tears in the boy's eyes were what had utterly destroyed you. Completely breathless from laughing that you just couldn't hold back, you dropped to the floor next to the boy. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you gasped for air that just couldn't get to your lungs. Your stomach was a painful mess and no matter how much you wanted, you just couldn't stand straight. 

The whole situation was so ridiculous and unexpected, that every time you tried to get a hold of yourself in order to explain that mess, you started laughing all over again. 

That was precisely the moment when Thor finally moved. He walked in a slow, menacing manner that had always raised tension in the room. The look in his eyes was one that Loki came to know all too well throughout the centuries they'd spent together. 

"Why are you always like this, Loki?" 

Loki looked at the boy on the verge of tears glued to his right leg. Then he looked at you on his left, fallen to your knees laughing. He was surrounded by idiots. 

And loved them. 

Loki smiled. "What can I say, brother? I have always been the charming one." 

Tony sipped his whiskey straight from the bottle. Initially, he reached out for the glass, but decided otherwise as the conversation progressed. 

"Did you destroy the building on the Fifth Avenue with your charms too?" was all he asked. 

You leaned your head on Loki's leg, finally mastering yourself a little bit. "That's not fair, Tony. We wreak ONE building, entirely on accident, and you won't overlook it, but whenever you guys fight in a city, so much public and private property gets destroyed that the lawsuits-" 

"That is not the point-" 

"But it's still true!" 

Natasha wished she had taken popcorn with her. Clint turned his hearing aid off and leaned his head on the back of the couch next to her. 

Thor sighed. 

"Asgard needs you, brother." 

The room fell silent with the weight held in those words. Thor crossed his arms. Loki understood now that what he had initially taken for anger, was in fact weariness he could sense in Thor. Weariness and sadness. 

"What happened?" 

You stood up and took his hand. It was cold and tense, but he still requited your touch. His fingers clasped yours tightly. 

Thor looked down at your intertwined hands, and at the boy still clutching Loki's leg. 

"I'm glad you have found yourself a place here, brother, I really am, despite what you're probably thinking," he said. "But we need your assistance. Asgard's ambassador to the Realms of The Edge was brutally murdered two days ago, along with a noble born of the Edge. We're on the brink of war. The Edge requested investigation by one of us." 

That was… quite a lot to process. 

Loki looked at you. You looked at Loki. Peter tried his best to blend in with Loki's trousers and not be kicked out of the conversation. 

You frowned at Thor. "But if it happened two days ago, what are you still doing here? Aren't you needed where it happened?" 

Thor shifted uneasily. For the first time since they started talking, he looked uncomfortable and couldn't hold your gaze. 

"I can't go there." 

You waited for further explanation, but none came. Loki, on the other hand, didn't look surprised. 

"My dearest brother was banned from the Edge a long time ago," he explained happily. "After a certain unfortunate incident, the lords of the Edge decided that he is no longer welcome there." 

"Don't speak as if you weren't a part of the very same unfortunate incident, Loki." 

"But I wasn't caught." 

"And that's why you're going. Asgard doesn't have any other Princes to spare, however unlucky that is, and the lords still don't trust our father." 

Loki opened his mouth to protest. 

"Mother's already agreed," Thor added. 

"Oh." Loki closed his mouth. 

"Who's going to go with him then, if you can't?" you asked, concern written over your features. 

"No one else from Asgard is allowed there. It took our father three thousand years to convince the lords of the Edge to agree to at least one ambassador. Our peoples have… a difficult history." 

"Which basically means Asgard waged a bloody, unfair war against the Edge and destroyed half of their lands before it finally realized there was nothing of value on them," Loki explained. "It's only natural that the Edge wants as little to do with Asgardians as possible."

"Wait."

All eyes landed on you. 

"So you're saying that you have to go there alone, without any help or assistance, to solve a murder and stop a war of vengeance completely on your own, among people who are already hostile and will probably try to finish what was started? Am I seeing things right or is this an actual joke, as lame and poor as I'd expect out of you, Thor?"

Thor, for his part, looked embarrassed. "It's not like we have any choice."

"Right, you don't," you nodded. "I'm going too." 

The voices of protest were louder than you expected, but not as loud as the one voice that absolutely loved your idea. 

Peter clutched Loki's leg even harder. "I want to go to space too! PLEASE!" 

Tony put the bottle down. "Peter, you're fifteen and have homework. Wasn't that your own argument when I-" 

"I also have hopes and dreams!" 

"No. Your aunt would gut me and make herself and Pepper a bag out of my skin." 

"It's going to be dangerous there. Next time, kid," Loki patted his head with surprising gentleness. He had grown attached to the boy, even before the boy had attached himself to Loki with the power of love, adoration, and his spidery stickiness. 

Peter looked around the room. However confused, its inhabitants weren't protesting your candidature. "But if it's so dangerous, why are only the two of you going?" 

"Because he's literally a god," you said and Loki nodded. "And I'm an asshole that's very hard to kill. Like a cockroach." Loki nodded again. 

Peter was sad to realise the odds, but he didn't protest any further. He moved back onto his feet again and hugged Loki and you one last time. 

"Just stay safe out there, okay? And if you ever need a Spider-Man, you know where to find me. Alone. Again." 

"We're gonna be back before you notice," you ruffled his hair. 

There was silence between Loki and you as you headed towards the room you’d  been residing in for the few past weeks. It was not an uncomfortable silence, and certainly not one held in anger. It was a silence that always accompanied moments of unexpected change. 

Loki beheld the room. He looked at his clothes laid on the floor and a chair. At one of his daggers left on the bedside table. 

"Are you sure about going with me?" he asked. 

You sat on the bed. "I've already told you that. I won't let you go there alone. From the sound of it, it's going to be dangerous." 

"I don't want you to risk your life." 

"And I want to protect yours," you shrugged. "I guess we're gonna have to work around that." 

Loki smiled. "Thank you." 

He found his enchanted bag pushed deep under the bed. There were a lot of things Loki had to pack, and was very grateful for the capacity of his own personal space pocket. He'd enchanted the bag back when he was just a kid, with a little help from his mother, and made sure to take it with him wherever he could. It was worn from frequent use, but still held strong. 

Loki brushed the cracked leather. You put your own belongings next to him to pack. 

Loki was still kneeling when he looked up at you, perched on the edge of the bed you'd shared for so long. His mouth went dry when he saw the casual confidence you held around him. All those weeks you'd had together, all those incidents and adventures, and all those faked proposals just for the sake of free cake… 

There was something he just had to ask, had to know and hear, even when he had been hoping for it for a while now. 

Hope. That's all he'd been reduced to. 

There used to be days when he'd sneer on that thought. This was not one of them. Today it felt right. 

"Would you…?" 

You smiled at the god fallen to his knees, even as the air seemed to leave the room and tighten his throat. 

"In this world and all the others, Loki." 

He let his lips fall onto yours, gently and with care. Weeks ago, Loki might’ve said it was almost an accidental touch, just a brush really, a surprise for both parties. But things changed and so did he. 

"I love you on purpose," he said, with hands cupping the face he could stare at for the rest of eternity. "And with the intent of loving you more with each day." 

Silver lined your eyes, and a choked chuckle escaped you. "What's there not to love? I'm a delight." 

Loki grinned. "Of course you are, darling." 

 *

A/N: This story finally hit 50k words and I'm so proud of myself! This is the longest fic I've ever worked on. 50k words and the first kiss... Does this still count as a slow-burn?? I'm sorry if the portrayal of some of the Avengers might feel off, I just needed someone to do the scolding part :P Please be merciful on me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway, please tell me what do you think of the direction this story is taking!

#Please Hate Me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon Chapter Seventeen: At a Loss for Words

<Previous / Next>

Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Papyrus doesn’t miss his brother’s jokes or pranks or anything, no, of course not...

"Sans! Do you know where my copy of 'Puzzles for Inquiring Minds' went? I can't find it but it must be here somewhere!" Papyrus called, digging through the pile of papers on his bedroom floor. He was finally sorting through the mess he'd left, organizing the scattered blueprints and sketches into much neater piles to be filed away later. But he couldn't imagine where that book had gotten to.

"Sans! Did you hear me? ...Are you even home?"

He sighed, and got up to peer into the living room. Ever since Sans had remembered his shortcut ability, he'd been making good use of it, and Papyrus was never sure where he went. Sans never told him. Not that he could. But, to his mild surprise, Sans was dozing on the couch.

"Sans!"

His brother jolted awake, then looked up at him blearily.

"I need your help finding--wait is that it under the couch?" Papyrus leapt down and slid his hand under, withdrawing the battered puzzle book. "Well, I have no idea how that got there, but I suppose, in a way, you still helped me find it. So. Thank? You?"

Sans merely huffed before settling down to sleep again. Papyrus eyed him, then headed upstairs with his book to file it properly. He slid it into place on the shelf, then sat back with brows furrowed. Something was missing... No, there weren't any empty spots left, so it wasn't a book... He looked over to his table and quickly assessed his action figures--they all seemed to be in place too. His things were in order, so why did he expect something more...?

It was quiet.

Sans would've had a joke about the misplaced book. Papyrus curled his tail around his feet, and shut his eyes. It was fine if Sans didn't want to talk! His various warbles and hoots often got the point across well enough, and it still sounded like him, and he still found ways to joke around even if it wasn't wordplay. It was fine--Papyrus wasn't even sure why he missed hearing his brother's dumb jokes and trolling so much. He'd heard them all, seen that spark in Sans' eye as he thought of them, groaned at the most inane reaches of wordplay countless times. He didn't need to hear them again. But... No, Sans would get his voice back in time, there was no point dwelling on it. He took a deep breath, and went back to organizing the rest of his things, humming to himself to break up the silence.

He surveyed his work, and nodded with satisfaction--his books had been fully rearranged, divided by subject and ordered alphabetically. He'd sorted all his blueprints and schematics into folders, and his action figures were aligned into their current teams. He'd moved the rug to cover the spot he'd burnt--he'd see about getting it replaced soon, but for now it was the best he could do. Everything was clean and orderly, just as it should be. He trotted out and headed downstairs.

"Sans! With my bedroom completely refreshed, we should go out! I want to see if I can find any good carpet in the dump, but who knows what else could be there? It's been so long since we looked, there's bound to be something incredible!"

Sans blinked an eye open to study him, but otherwise made no effort to move.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Papyrus beamed at him, bouncing in place. It seemed to work, because  Sans studied him a moment longer, then got up with a yawn, stretched, then hopped to the floor and looked at him expectantly. Well, he wasn't about to let him down. He led the charge out, and glanced back to see Sans was trotting after him dutifully. It was almost like old times, and he took solace in that.

Sans walked closer to him as they passed through Waterfall, and Papyrus noted how he seemed to be scanning every shadow and crevice, eyelights darting. Sans was... nervous? Papyrus slowed his own pace--truth be told, the bottomless chasms and roaring water were setting his instincts off too, but he knew they'd be safe--they'd traveled through here dozens of times, nothing would hurt them. Besides, they were coming up to the wishing room, and Sans had always liked that spot. That would brighten his day--literally.

"Sans! Look up! The stars are especially bright today, look!" he exclaimed when they entered, and darted ahead to take in the sight--a million twinkling crystals embedded in the stone all around them. Their pale light washed everything in a soft blue glow, and he sat to appreciate the atmosphere and give his brother a chance to catch up.

Sans padded up slowly, occasionally glancing at the stars but still looking over his shoulders more until he reached him. Only then did he allow himself to look at the stars for any length of time, but something still made him scan their surroundings every few moments, staring at shadows as if to make sure they wouldn't move. And even when he did glance upwards, he didn't so much look at the stars as look for something--that look of calm, wistful wonder Sans usually wore when he contemplated the universe never appeared.

"Sans? Is something wrong?" Papyrus asked, glancing around himself and wondering if there was something he wasn't picking up on. Nothing looked out of place, nothing smelled wrong--but Sans was acting like they were in danger.

Sans looked up at him briefly, before turning away and uttering a low growl. Heart sinking, Papyrus realized his brother might have slipped--it tracked with how he'd been acting all day. Well, he'd have to get him back on track. What did he usually like to talk about here in the star room? It'd been so long, Papyrus couldn't quite remember... but he had to try!

"Not to worry, brother! We're safe here, and besides, how can you ignore all this? Do you remember when we found that human book about constellations, and we spent all day here trying to find them? We also decided to make our own since humans didn't have any skeleton constellations... Let's see... oh! There it is, the Big Skull! Shining brightly as ever!"

Sans followed his finger, then looked around--he couldn't see the constellation, but at least he was really looking at the stars now.

"You used to tell me about what real stars are, too. These are very pretty, but, you said the real stars are huge burning balls of fire or something, right? And, they're so far away, not even the humans have ever been to one. Um... there's different colors... yellow, white, red, even blue! I wonder if they come in other colors, but I don't remember. There was other cool stuff too, wasn't there?"

Sans looked up at him, then back to the stars. He'd calmed enough to lie down next to him, and seemed to be content just watching as waves of ambient magic flowed through the crystals, making their light waver. It really was amazing, and Papyrus was sure that even if the real stars couldn't be beat, this was a natural wonder all on its own. Who knew how long monsters had been wishing on these, filling them with their hopes and dreams...

He picked one--a bright, steady light that made one of the eyes in the Big Skull--and made a wish of his own.

"Okay Sans, though I'm sure we could stay here stargazing forever, we did have a mission today!" he prompted, standing up. "If you thought that was fun, just wait until we get to the dump!"

Sans crooned, then got up to follow him. He wasn't sure he'd managed to engage him enough, but there'd be plenty more chances, and perhaps he'd set the ball rolling. They continued to weave through the passages and wind down halls, splashing through cold, clear water until finally--they came to a small landing, and a rank smell informed them they'd made it to the dump.

Bad as the smell was, the piles of debris held endless possibilities, and Papyrus darted for the first one he saw. He circled it, sniffing at anything that looked interesting, clawing at pieces that caught his eye. Most of it was truly garbage--old food wrappers, filthy rags, broken plastic shells of electronics well beyond repair. But he found a deflated rubber ball that after some rinsing was fun to toss and shake in his jaws. This excursion was already looking like a success! He tucked it into his satchel and turned to see what luck his brother was having.

Sans was sitting in the middle of the room near where they'd entered, unmoving. He was soaked--in many places the water had come up to his chest, and here it was no different--but he didn't seem to care. Papyrus wasn't sure he would have normally--but seeing him like this didn't ease his worry.

"Sans! Don't just sit there! Come help me find cool garbage!"

Sans started, but didn't move. Papyrus sighed.

"Okay, well, if you just want to sit in the mud that's fine. I'm still going to look around!"

He continued his search, overturning sodden boxes and digging into moldering clothes; his heart leapt with excitement when he found a box of discarded books--but they'd been soaked, and the first one he opened fell apart, its pages illegible. Maybe someone else could take the time or had the skill to salvage them, but he had to move on. The next heap looked quite promising! He leapt onto it, sending a few things sliding, but it already looked lopsided so he wasn't messing up whoever liked to come by and sort the piles into some semblance of order. He could appreciate their devotion to cleanliness in the face of chaos--but there were treasures to find.

He began to dig his claws in, hoping to find such treasure, but something sent up an alert in his mind--a smell? He sniffed again, blocking out the damp stench of the regular garbage to hone in on it. It was faint--old. But somehow familiar, and he dug again to stir it up. It smelled... it smelled...

Like bone.

But there was something else. It was stronger--coming from nearby. Grassy, but withered--he dug more, and uncovered a dried-up stem. He clawed at it, refreshing the scent. Was this the grass smell? Yes, but not regular grass--it smelled just like... golden flowers. Papyrus jerked his head back. He pawed cautiously at the withered vegetation, mind churning. Bone, and golden flower. He stuck his nose back in, just to be sure. Bone, and flower, and old grease and the brand of ketchup Sans liked.

There was no mistaking it. The scents were weeks--maybe months--old, but they lingered. Papyrus looked back up at his brother, who still sat in the cold, swirling water. He remembered how Flowey had lied to Undyne about knowing where Sans was. He remembered how furious Sans had been at the mere mention of a golden flower. He turned the bit of plant--the tip of a vine--over with his claw, noting how the end was torn, and had no doubt. This was where his brother had met Flowey, and it hadn't been the friendly connection Papyrus had hoped.

Papyrus sighed. At least it meant Sans hadn't chosen to leave him all that time ago...

"Okay Sans, we can go home." He hopped from the garbage, splashing down. "I don't think there's much here after all, and, you don't seem to be having fun, so, let's get cleaned up. Why don't we take the ferry? Or, if you really want to get going, we, um, could... just take a shortcut."

Papyrus could hardly believe himself for making the suggestion. But if this place brought back bad memories--ones fresher than their days as experiments--then they didn't need to stay any longer. He trotted to where the water was clear, kicked his hands and feet free of mud and debris, then dunked his snout in to wash the smell of garbage out. Sans merely watched him, and once Papyrus had finished snorting water out of his nose he turned to him.

"Okay, brother! If you were waiting to take us home, you may now do it!"

Sans tilted his head, and Papyrus blinked.

"Don't give me that look! Using a shortcut, naturally. Even if I don't approve, they are quite handy for getting somewhere fast. I know you've cut home from farther away, so this should be easy!"

Sans only continued to give him a confused look. He raised a paw as if to step, but set it back down, uncertain.

"Sans... you can't have slipped this far again, can you?" Papyrus said sadly. He knew it could be a struggle--he'd gone through it himself--but it hadn't been so long ago that Sans had encouraged him to tell Alphys and Undyne their story. He'd been joking, albeit wordlessly, only a few days ago. Papyrus had thought he'd been getting enough stimulation, but... "Maybe today's just a bad day. That's okay! They happen! We can just take the ferry if shortcuts are too much right now."

The journey home was quiet; even the Riverperson only hummed softly as they navigated towards Snowdin. Once they got home, Sans clambered back onto the couch to doze once more, and Papyrus headed up to occupy himself with puzzle design. He needed to keep himself sharp too--if only to figure out how to help his brother. He got out his paper and pencils, and began sketching.

"Sans I think I've done it!" he cheered, bursting from his room some hours later. "This puzzle is going to stump any human who dares attempt it. Look!

He charged down to lay the blueprints out in front of Sans, who was still blinking wearily after being startled awake by his brother for the second time that day.

"I realized I could combine the challenge of a pressure plate lock with those steam vents Hotland is so irritatingly fond of, only I'll use spring-loaded levers instead because I have class--but, anyway, here's the pattern! Isn't is brilliant?"

Sans looked from the paper in front of him to his brother, then back to the paper--but only to nibble playfully at it. Papyrus yanked it away.

"No! You can't eat it!! Ugh! As always, my efforts go unappreciated," he sighed dramatically. "I'll refine the design and present it to Undyne tomorrow. She'll have something to say!"

He ignored the sinking feeling. At least Sans had done something silly. But he couldn't help wishing he'd said something instead.

To Papyrus' relief, it had just been a bad day after all. Sans woke up the next morning, stared at his hands for a bit, then shook himself out before shortcutting out, presumably for breakfast. When he returned, Papyrus was ready with a bag slung over his spines.

"Sans! You should come with me--I'm going to scout out the location for my new puzzle, and I'll need an assistant to hold my things. Surely you can manage that?"

Sans studied him, then uttered a hoot as he shrugged. That was good enough.

"Fantastic! Let's be off then!"

He charged out, kicking up snow, and wasn't shocked to find Sans waiting for him along the way. But he trotted after him once they'd met up, and Papyrus slowed his pace just enough that his brother could keep close. They reached the clearing Papyrus had in mind, and he set the bag down before turning to Sans to relay his brilliant plan.

"We've arrived! It doesn't look like much now... but this field is merely the canvas upon which I, premier puzzle architect, shall paint my latest masterpiece!"

He paused, and Sans opened his mouth--but as usual, the only sound he could make was an odd warble. He seemed disappointed, and Papyrus hoped his own concern wasn't obvious as he continued his monologue

"A-and! So, what I need you to do is hold the map while I survey the area and make sure my build zone is clear. Got it?"

Sans huffed and dipped his head.

"Good! Alright, here's the map. Let's get surveying!"

Sans took the map in his jaws and sat while Papyrus inspected the field. That tree was just barely in the way; whoops, there was a rock there, that was no good--hey, someone had already started a puzzle here ages ago. He'd have to tear that out. He reached into a snow poff and pulled out a little white dog--it yipped at him, and he lowered it back in. He couldn't build his puzzle anywhere near that. He finished his inspection, and headed back to his brother to see how the map looked.

"Alright, let's see... Sans!"

His brother tilted his head.

"You didn't mark any of the obstacles!"

Sans tilted his head the other way, doing his best to look innocent. Papyrus blinked, realization dawning on him. He'd only told Sans to hold the map, not mark it too, and groaned as he smacked a palm across his face.

"Ugh, of course!! Okay. This time, I'll hold the map, and you go find all the stuff that's in my way. It should be easy, since I already found all of them. Give me the map."

Sans passed it back, then laid down.

"No! Sans!! You have to tell me where the old puzzles and tree roots and dogs are so I can avoid them!"

Sans waved a claw in the general direction of the field, grumbling something.

"Saaaans!" Papyrus cried, stomping his foot and earning low, hissing chuckles from his brother. "Oh, I see! This is a game to you! Well, I'll have you know I take my games very seriously! And! I've never been beaten yet! Nyeheheheh!"

He ended up marking the map himself while Sans watched with amusement. He didn't mind--he was just happy Sans was playing with him like he always would. He missed the banter that would usually accompany it, but... after yesterday, he'd take what he could get.

"There, the map has been marked, no thanks to you," he said when he'd finished. "Now I can plot my setup properly. But first, this snow has to go!"

He found himself expecting a pun, but none came, so he instead focused on his magic and summoned long horizontal bones to sweep the field, clearing a wide swath. He summoned another set, and sent them the other way, pushing even more snow away and leaving only a thin dusting over the ground. Time for the final step. He concentrated, and summoned a trio of his special attacks. They fired simultaneously, melting the remaining snow away and leaving the ground steaming.

"Perfect. All set for the site of a truly excellent puzzle. Wouldn't you agree, Sans?"

Sans hooted his approval, and Papyrus recognized the look in his eyes. He must've thought his snow-clearing technique was really cool--he looked proud of him. He'd probably have made some dumb joke about it to hide how he really felt, but he only watched and waited for what he'd do next.

"Okay, I think that's all for today. Help me put up this caution tape so passers-by don't accidentally set foot on the site and mess it up."

The 'caution tape' was just toilet paper with 'CAUTION: BRILLIANT PUZZLE ARCHITECT (PAPYRUS) AT WORK' written on it in marker, but Papyrus was nothing if not resourceful. He set up a perimeter of bones, slotted the paper tube between a pair of his brother's upper and lower fangs, then ran with the free end around his setup a few times and tied it off.

"Well, a job well done, mostly by me," he congratulated as he surveyed his work. "But, it was nice to have you here too, brother."

Sans rumbled in apparent agreement.

"Tomorrow, I'll begin laying everything out. I think I spotted some scrap metal at the dump yesterday that should work quite well... You don't have to come with to get it, I know that'd... be a lot for you..."

Sans just looked at him. Maybe he didn't remember how yesterday had gone.

"But! That's enough for now! Let's go home and have lunch, and then decide what the afternoon is for."

As they walked back, the quiet of Snowdin's forest settled in around them; it was hard to believe they'd once fled into the surrounding woods with the intention of never coming back. Papyrus found himself feeling anxious at the memory, and momentarily quickened his pace before realizing he was leaving Sans behind. He looked back, and saw Sans looking at him curiously.

"Sorry Sans, I just.... We spent a long time out there in the woods, and, while Snowdin is definitely still my ideal location for our base of operations, it's... perhaps a little soon to be frolicking out here again. It won't bother me forever! Don't worry! But I'd like to get home."

Sans crooned sadly, and the next corner they rounded put them right in the living room.

"Oh! Sans! I didn't mean I didn't want to walk... Oh well, I suppose it's too late now..."

The room blinked, and they were back on the road. Sans was smiling at him mischievously.

"Oooh! Sans!!! Cut it out!" he howled, lunging at him to knock him over. Sans sprung out of the way, his true agility on rare display. Papyrus continued to chase after him, managing to succeed only because Sans was in even less shape than usual. He caught up with him quickly and pushed him into a snowbank.

"Now you'll chill out! Nyeh heh heh heh!" Papyrus teased as his brother rose from the drift and shook off.

Sans opened his jaws--but only a low hoot came out, and he paused a moment before giving a resigned shrug. Papyrus felt his heart sink yet again.

"Oh Sans, I know you'll get your voice back soon! You just have to keep trying... but, if you really don't want to talk, I suppose I can tell the jokes for both of us..."

Sans blinked, and uttered an inquiring hoot.

"It's fine, really! All your puns are very easy to replicate, so, I'll have no trouble filling in! It'll be 'snow' problem! Nyeh!"

Sans snorted, looking amused and concerned at the same time.

"What, you think I can't? I never expected I'd get such a cold reception, especially from my own brother!"

Okay, Sans was laughing now, good. He didn't want him to feel bad for not working as hard as he did, even if he did want him to work harder. Sans working hard recently had... not been good.

But it was lonely. Papyrus couldn't deny it anymore. He didn't remember the last time Sans had actually told him a joke even when he'd been able to. And now, sure, he still found ways to be obnoxious and clown around, but there wasn't the banter Papyrus loved. There wasn't the subtle encouragement or occasionally truly thoughtful musings. He was making progress on his new puzzle, but Sans wasn't there to double-check his work and point out oversights with brotherly ribbing.

Papyrus could easily fill the void with his own voice, but it just wasn't the same.

"Geez, and it seems like he still won't even try?" Undyne said when he'd shared his feelings during a sparring match.

"Well, he'll sometimes act like he wants to say something, but, when it doesn't come out right, he just kind of gives up," Papyrus sighed as he deflected a spear. "I've been telling puns in his place, but, I'm tired of the conversation being so one-sided. And I think maybe he is too."

"Aw man," Undyne uttered, finishing her volley. "So, what are you gonna do? Do I need to noogie some sense into him or what?"

"No, no!" Papyrus declined as he set up his attack and sent it at her, "I think he just needs some encouragement, which I am very good at. I'll figure something out! He's bounced back from this kind of thing before, I know he can do it again!"

"Hmm... Well, maybe you should just tell him what you told me," Undyne suggested, finishing an artful dodge around his attack, "and even though I know that's easier said than... said, how else is he supposed to know?"

Papyrus huffed. "That would cut to the chase, wouldn't it. I just have to hope he understands... I'm... not always sure what gets through...."

"He's still slipping sometimes?" Undyne asked sadly, and he nodded but smiled anyway.

"Not for very long! He has bad days and good days, and it's usually more good than bad, but, I can tell it... doesn't really... It's not a thing that worries him, so he doesn't do anything about it."

"Geez, well, sounds like you need to get encouraging him, huh?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

They finished their sparring match and retreated indoors for drinks, discussing the latest nonsense Mettaton had gotten up to and what their next cooking endeavor should be now that they knew about instructions over tea. Papyrus shared the blueprints for his new puzzle--which Undyne thought needed more spikes and fire pits. He'd normally agree, but that wasn't the tone he was going for so he politely disregarded her suggestions. He left her house that evening feeling revitalized; he'd forgotten how nice it was to have a full conversation.

He clattered in, and immediately bristled--he smelled the mess before he saw it. He dashed into the kitchen, where torn and broken containers littered the floor. Sans stood half in the fridge, the shelves askew as he'd forced his way in to scavenge.

"SANS!"

Sans startled, skittering backwards and knocking even more tubs of leftovers to the floor. Pulling free, he stared at Papyrus with eyes wide, his snout stained with the evidence of his crimes. He'd broken into the newly reopened food museum and destroyed it.

"Sans, I can't believe you!" Papyrus scolded, tail lashing. "I'd ask why, but not only do I already know why, it's not like you'd even answer! Ugh! You knew I was going to be back soon, you could have just waited! Or gone to Grillby's like you always do!"

Sans glanced away, then sat with a sorry whimper.

"Fine, but you're helping me clean this up! This is the worst mess of things you've made yet!"

Sans whimpered again, and tried to approach to give an appeasing nuzzle--but Papyrus pushed him away.

"Oh no, not until you clean yourself up too! I can't believe you're my brother sometimes, ugh!!"

Sans backed away, looking defeated. He cast about, then tried to gather up some of the wayward containers, sweeping them into a pile with his claws. He looked up and gave a questioning hoot, but Papyrus snorted.

"No, you can do better than that! Come on, let's get the shelves cleaned off and put back in first."

The whole process took longer than if Papyrus had just done it himself, but Sans had clearly slipped again--hard, this time. He struggled to use his hands instead of his jaws to manipulate the items he'd scattered, didn't understand the order they needed to do things in, and Papyrus kept having to get him back on task. He was so frustrated that when Sans tried to sneak a few more bites, he hissed at him--it stopped Sans on the spot, but he spent the rest of the time worried he'd begun slipping too.

They finally finished the fridge, and Papyrus grabbed a washcloth and his brother's skull to give it a proper scrub; Sans protested only weakly before quieting down and laying still until the ordeal was over. Papyrus tossed the washcloth in with the rest of the towels they'd used to wipe up the fridge, then trotted to the living room with a huff. It'd been a while since he'd been so genuinely frustrated with his brother.

Sans lay on the kitchen floor for a while before finally getting to his feet slowly. He plodded into the living room, saw Papyrus had taken the couch to watch TV, and settled to the floor nearby. Papyrus didn't want to talk to him. He hadn't even done anything that bad or surprising--the fridge was a beacon of temptation for a monster who liked food as much as Sans did. But he wasn't even trying to resist, or be more like his true self, even when everything had otherwise gone back to normal. It felt like he didn't care--about himself, or about him. And that was what had Papyrus upset.

The following day remained tense. Papyrus was still frustrated, and ignored his brother while he bustled around the house and got ready to continue working on his puzzle, paying no mind when he hooted an inquiry at him. He couldn't even tell if Sans was with it today or not, and didn't want his help anyway. He hurried out, and threw himself into puzzle construction.

At one point, he felt a presence--someone watching him. His instincts told him to look, it could be danger--but he refused, focused on digging the trench for an electrical line. He had work to do, and he wasn't going to let anyone distract him. He'd forgive his brother eventually--it wasn't really Sans' fault he was like this. But right now, Papyrus was tired of having a beast for a brother.

He finished digging out the placements for his pressure pads, and wiped his claws in the snow before picking up the tools he'd brought and heading for home. There were tracks in the fresh powder--so Sans had been out here at some point. Papyrus huffed. Who knew what he'd come back to this time.

But he opened the door and found everything in order. There were no new smells, and Sans was laying on the couch, watching TV. He got up when Papyrus entered, trilling a greeting--but Papyrus sighed and trotted past. Sans watched him go, and was quiet the rest of the evening, even as Papyrus went about making dinner. There was nothing to say.

Papyrus found the house empty when he got up the next morning.

"Sans?"

His room was empty, as were the living room and kitchen, and a pit of dread formed within Papyrus' ribs. Had he pushed him away? Had he fled, for the final time, to live as the beast he thought himself to be? Had he lost him for good...? He paced, and that's when he finally noticed the sheet of paper on the floor where Sans had laid the other night. For a brief moment Papyrus considered the possibility his brother had become stationery... then realized it was a pun, and had to choke back his own laughter. He'd have to tell Sans that joke at some point, provided they could get everything between them sorted out. He approached the paper, and studied it.

It was crudely drawn--Sans had never been artistically inclined like he was, and he hadn't been practicing his manual dexterity, so the rough, unsteady lines were to be expected. But the scene was clear--Sans had drawn stars along the top of the page, and a line at the bottom representing the ground. There was even a scribbled out attempt at an echo flower. It was the wishing room, and in the center of the page, he'd drawn a little stick figure of himself looking up. Was that where he'd gone...?

Papyrus set out at a brisk trot. The wishing room wasn't far, it'd be easy to find out what his brother was up to. He wove past other early risers and leapt over bridge seed puzzles before finally arriving at the cavern, eyes darting. It wasn't a large room, so his brother had to be close... There! The soft light reflecting off his bones almost made Sans appear to glow. He was sitting near the far end of the passage, looking up at the stars just as he'd drawn. Papyrus approached slowly, unsure what his brother was planning--it was just as likely a prank as it was something genuine.

Sans saw him approaching, and the relief that crossed his face was clear. Maybe this wasn't a prank. He stood as Papyrus drew near, and for a moment, they simply faced one another. Sans opened his mouth.

"hhhheya brro," he rasped.

Papyrus tackled him.

"SANS!" Papyrus yelled, but this time it was out of joy. "You--you did it! You're talking again! I'm so--it's--Sans!!!"

Sans chuckled, not even trying to fight the pile he'd been wrapped up in. "ssstill hard, but, tryin'. wanted to. sssay sorry. for letting you down."

Papyrus extracted himself enough to look his brother in the eyes. "Oh Sans, I'm--I'm sorry for being so cross with you. It, just... I missed you! A lot! But it was like you didn't even want to try..."

Sans thudded his skull against his brother's chest. "sssorry. did want to sometimmmess. didn't want to... a lot. hard to choose. easy to... not think about it. but. like i ssaid. couldn't let you down."

"Oh Sans... I'm very, very glad that you tried! And! Succeeded!! In only one night? Normally you'd be sound asleep!"

"couldn't," Sans replied, his smile seeming bittersweet. "not with you mad. so, went out, howled, made noises i didn't know i could. glad i didn't sleep."

"W-well, I'm glad too. And, um... will you keep trying?"

"listen, i, uhhh, think i better. maybe it's easier to... not deal with everything, but... it's leaving you hanging, and, i can't do that to my bro."

"And you made me come all the way out here just to tell me this?"

Sans shrugged, finally pulling free to shake himself out. "dunno. felt right. think you tried to talk to me here a little bit ago or ssssomething?"

"I did! I'm glad you remember!"

"yeah. stars. i remember you talking about the stars, and how it was the calmest i felt that day. so, coming back here... just made sense."

"Wowie. That's very poetic, Sans."

"hey, i'm good for more than just puns sometimes," Sans said with a wink, and for the first time in ages, Papyrus felt like he really had his bother back

"Hard to believe as it is, it's true," Papyrus agreed, standing as well. "What may also be hard to believe is how much I've missed said puns."

"well, i'll do my best to make up for lost time," Sans replied lightly as they started to walk back. "just might take me a bit to get... star-ted."

"Oh my god," Papyrus said, but couldn't stop smiling. "Clearly, it will not."

#undertalethingem writes #bark at the moon fic #gaster blaster au #sans (undertale) #papyrus (undertale) #Undyne (undertale) #heads up that this is the last chapter i had done ahead of time! i'll try to get the next done in time but i can't promise anything ^^; #in any case i hope you've enjoyed what i've written so far ^^

[frostsinth]

The Secret We Keep - Epilogue

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8  - MasterList -

So as a massive thank you to all my followers as I’ve hit another milestone, here’s an NSFW epilogue. Also soft and gooeyness, that gives you a little glimpse of what the pair are up to now.

As always, a huge thanks to everyone, and please check out my MasterList above if you haven’t already. While you’re there, feel free to BuyMeACoffee. Shoot me an ask/DM/comment if you have any questions or requests or thoughts. I love hearing from everyone!

Enjoy!

“Three silvers for the night,” I told the traveler, placing the now clean mug back on the shelf with the others, “And that includes a light breakfast in the morning.” 

He nodded tiredly, as it was already very late, reaching into the pouch at his belt and fishing out the coins. “Fair deal.”

 I smiled at him cheerily as I took them. “Let’s get you settled then. Gordy!” I called, turning to deposit the three silvers in the coffer behind the bar. The teenager looked up from where he was sweeping by the fireplace. “Could you be a dear and take this gentleman down to his room please?”

The boy nodded, leaning the broom against the wall and brushing his hands down his apron. There was a loud clatter and a soft woof, and the boy’s progression was suddenly impeded by a large grey body darting in front of him. Gordy nearly toppled over, barely managing to catch himself on the nearest bench. The last of the patrons gathered at the table in the far corner laughed loudly, and the poor boy’s ears turned pink. The traveler jerked in surprise, raising his hands defensively as the huge beast lopped over to him and began wuffing a big black nose at his pockets.

“Kosh!” I scolded, whipping the edge of my cleaning cloth lightly at the wolfhound’s snout. The big hound backed up a few feet with a sneeze and a shake.  “Apologies, sir. He may be big, but he’s just a pup. He’s still in training.”

And big he was! The large stormy grey dog was only a few months old but already came up to my waist. With long, lanky legs, huge paws, and a scraggily coat, he looked like a disproportionate grey lion more than a dog. For all his bulk though, he was a gentle soul; reminding me fondly of another such individual in my life. His scruffy tail wagged eagerly back and forth, long tongue lolling out as Gordy stalked over with a grumble. The wolfhound panted and whimpered as the teenager gestured for the traveler to follow him. Gordy shoved him amiably as he passed and the dog licked at his hand.

“Last room on the left.” I instructed him. I smiled kindly at the stranger. “Breakfast is set here in the bar room a few hours after dawn. Come up whenever you’re ready.”

The man nodded appreciatively, casting the big dog a final wary eye before following the equally lanky teenager down the stairs to the basement. Another loud roar of laughter and the slamming of fists on wood had me turning a critical eye back to the last table and setting my hands on my hips. The men there shoved at each other companionably, clanking their drinking horns together. Kosh gave another soft woof and padded back over to them.

“Finish up, gentleman!” I called over, slinging the cloth back over my shoulder. “We’re closing up for the evening.”

They gave an almost uniform groan of disappointment. The biggest of the group laughed again, clapping his meaty green hand on the shoulder of his closest companion.

“You’ll have to get back to your wives at some point, boys!” The orc exclaimed as the man sputtered into his drink under the weight of his huge hand. “Can’t hide here forever!”

That brought up another chorus of laughter, and a few more clinking cups. The orc tossed back the last of his own drink by way of example. The other men started to follow suit, nodding their agreement.

“Bar’tok, perhaps you’d like to take a break from drinking all my ale, and fetch me a fresh keg from the basement.” I scolded genially, raising an eyebrow at him.

He gave me his familiar sheepish grin, standing quickly. “Sure thing, Boss Lady!”

I tossed him the key as he sauntered past, then returned to closing up behind the bar. I gathered the last of the scraps into the bucket at the end of the bar, and replaced the now clean horns on the shelf with the rest. I moved out to gather the few remaining at the tables, and waved to the men as they dropped their coin and bid me goodnight. Alone for the moment, I paused briefly, taking stock of the place with a warm satisfaction spreading through my chest at the sight of the renovated tavern. 

In just the few short months since I bought it from oldman Hinson, we had expanded the bar room, clearing out all of the smaller first floor rooms and anything not completely necessary for the structure of the building. Leaving an open floorplan with high post and beam ceilings. I had put up the biggest of my collected antlers and horns as well as a few purchased patterned tapestries on the walls and had a large sheepskin spread before the fire where Kosh now stretched and yawned before collapsing with a thump onto his hairy belly. There was enough space for half a dozen tables, and the huge, remade fireplace made the whole place feel warm and inviting. We had also made the main door taller, and added a second to allow for my big and burly new patrons who visited the tavern frequently to have easy access. Behind the bar was a small kitchen, with a deep clay oven for bread as well as a stone open fire spit for cooking meat. Cast iron pots and pans hung neatly on the wall beside it, and fine wood shelves were near overflowing with various wines, liquors, and spirits as well as the plentiful number of drinking horns I possessed. The kegs lined the inside of the counter, ready and waiting, with a few large black iron lanterns set at the corners.

Below, we had remodeled the basement to host four small guest rooms as well as a storage room. Plenty of space to store a stockpile of ales and spirits to keep the patrons happy as well as serving as a cold ground storage larder for potatoes, onions, and other long term keeps. The staircase up to the loft apartment had been redone as well, and it looked quite grand with its short balcony at the top overlooking the barroom below. It was only accessible from behind the bar, in order to keep drunken patrons from wandering up unbidden.

The teenager trumped back up the less impressive basement steps now, stifling a yawn behind one freckled hand. I smirked, finished with my admiration of the renovations, and bringing my load of dishes back to the counter. 

“I’m all set for the evening, Gordy, why don’t you head home?” I told him, then dug out his pay for the week as well as some jerky from my secret stash. “If you wouldn’t mind taking the scraps out to the hogs on your way out.”

He nodded eagerly, taking the small handful of coins and jerky excitedly. He crammed the meat into his mouth and the coins into his pocket (and I was grateful he kept that order straight) and gathered up the bucket with a grunt. I smiled as he tossed his apron onto the barrel by the basement door and staggered towards the exit.

“Goodnight, ma’am!” He called through a mouthful of jerky over his shoulder as he slugged the door open. “See you bright and early to help with the goblin order!”

I waved him off, turning as Bar’tok came up the stairs as well, one huge keg balanced on his big green shoulder. I smiled at him, nodding to its place in the corner.

“Just there if you would, Bar’tok, thank you.” I gathered up the tray of dirty plates and horns to bring over to the bucket of water I kept by the back door to let them soak overnight. I would finish cleaning them in the morning while breakfast cooked, it was already very late.

The creak of the main door behind me and excited bark from Kosh had me slowing my clean up distractedly. Wondering if Gordy had forgotten something. But when I glanced over at Bar’tok who was facing the door, the wide, knowing grin he shot over my shoulder had my heart skipping a beat.

“I’ll finish up down here, Boss Lady,” He told me, taking the tray from my hands. “You have better things to do with your time.”

I spun eagerly, a smile already spreading across my face even before my eyes settled on the huge, burly orc currently shoving a leaping wolfhound down from trying to lick at his face. His face was set into a heavy scowl, his brow knotted. But as soon as our eyes met, his features instantly softened. I was already untying my apron and coming around the counter as he strode across the room. I gave a little yelp of delight as he swept me up without breaking his stride, sitting me on the bar and wrapping his big arms around me. There was a clatter and a clash as one of the lanterns toppled off the end, having been bumped by an errant elbow, and his big face flushed slightly. I ignored it, catching hold of his face with both hands.

“...Welcome home.” I breathed against his lips as he slowly pulled out of his customary crushing kiss. As if he were drowning in the sea and my mouth was his first taste of air. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, then cupped his bushy square jowls fondly.

Hans grunted deeply, his big nose flaring as he drew in deep breaths of my scent. His eyes turned doe-like, and his lips fell into that soft curl I loved. He placed another light kiss against my waiting mouth, then gave a distracted and irritated snort as he had to turn to push the whimpering, bouncing dog half clambering up his side. The pooch did not like being altogether forgotten as we were reunited once more for the first time in nearly a week. I laughed, reaching behind the bar to grab a well planned bone and tossing it off towards the center of the room. Kosh gave a final booming bark, then darted off, his claws scratching the worn wood as he pursued his treat.

I wrapped my arms around the big orc’s neck as he scooped me into his arms, pinning my hips flat against his waist, parallel to him with my legs dangling straight towards the floor. Bar’tok smirked as we passed him by, and I felt my ears grow hot, but Hans didn’t even spare him a glance. He carried me around the back of the bar, eyes never leaving my face as he made his way up the stairs to our apartment overhead. As if he couldn’t soak in the sight of me enough. I smiled, bending down and resting my forehead against his, breathing in his musky scent and feeling my heart race again at his touch. He shoved open the door with a pleased grunt, then kicked it closed behind him.

Spinning, he pinned me against the back of it, smothering me with kisses once more. I shifted, wrapping my legs as far around his huge torso as they would go, running my hands over his shoulders and neck. He growled deeply, the sound vibrating against my lips and my body, then pulled back only to bury his face in his favorite place against the side of my neck. Nipping and kissing and tasting my skin there. I gave a breathy moan, and felt another growl against my throat as his tusks ran over my tender flesh there. His thick tongue traced over the long since faded scratch, and he kissed the spot delicately where Wren’s knife had nicked me as he always did, before moving down to my collarbone. I rubbed at his muscles, sliding my little hands under his armor to trace over the tough skin of his back. He rumbled with pleasure at the sensation, pressing against me gently, pinning me against the back of the door and surrounding me with his bulk. I felt the familiar ache building within me, and squeezed my thighs around him. His nostrils flared as he pulled in the fresh scent of my arousal. Another deep, husky growl vibrated against my neck.

Curling around me again, he hoisted me off the door with both meaty hands on my ass and spun back to the room. Two of his long strides and he dropped me onto our huge bed against the back wall, where I bounced lightly. I could hardly stand to wait for him as he fumbled with his travelling cloak and armor. His ax made a loud thunk as he dropped it on our table, and I felt a flush rising to my cheek. Wondering if Bar’tok could hear us still. I was sure there was no masking the clatter of the chair falling over as Hans struggled to remove his armor as quickly as he could and knocked into it. But it was all quickly forgotten though as my attention settled on Hans’ face, his eyes hooded, his big tongue licking his lips. I bit my own lip, kicking off my new boots and stockings and sliding backwards onto the bed.

The big orc pulled his tunic up and over his head, and I hardily appreciated the sight of his flexing chest and stomach muscles beneath. I sucked in the view greedily, drawing in a sharp breath as he dropped quickly onto the bed and crawled after me. I hooked my hand around the back of his head, pulling him down into another deep kiss. He dragged my body closer to his, his growl becoming a soft groan as my other hand rubbed at the stiffness between his legs. He bent in half, bringing his hips closer to my reach while keeping our mouths locked together. I parted my lips, inviting him in, and his hot tongue eagerly slid after mine.

I felt his hand moving up my leg, pushing up my skirts. I could feel his need and eagerness bleeding into me. Desperate to be connected again in every way we possibly could. Cannily soaking up every minute of our coupling. He moved gently, but persistently, hitching up my dress around my hips and pushing my legs apart. Then he pushed my hand aside and scooped me up, bringing me to meet his own hips and grinding firmly between my legs. I quivered beneath him, and felt his hot lips and tusks scrape against my jaw as I tossed my head back against the bed. He rolled his hips again, then again, and panted against my throat, the roughness of his trousers coupled with the firmness of his erection sending us both into fits.

With the lightest of touches, I planted my palm against his chest and pushed him back. He moved obediently, retracting, frowning slightly until he realized I was following after. The big orc rolled onto his back with a grunt, and I bunched my skirts up at my hips as I straddled his. He looked at me, his dark eyes hungry, his tongue tracing over his thick lips. My legs barely reached the bed on either side of his huge body, but I was able to grind against his growing bulge over the top of his pants all the same, and now it was his turn for his head to fall back in enjoyment. I did it a few times more, teasing him until his big meaty hand clamped down on my hip and his foot kicked out, knocking into the chest at the foot of the bed as he gave a hearty groan.

I rose up onto the balls of my feet, crouching over him and grabbing at the edge of his pants. He helped me to slide his trousers off, freeing his huge cock with a relieved sigh. I tossed his pants off to the side, and winced at the clang of the candlestick toppling off the end table with it. He snorted, casting an eye over towards the mess, but quickly returning his husky gaze to my face. I blushed, shyly looking away from him, but settled just behind his member. After a moment’s hesitation, I began rubbing myself back and forth across its length. He groaned again, his hand on my hip squeezing lightly, his hips jerking involuntarily beneath me. I couldn’t help but grin now, delighted by how easily I had the huge orc at my mercy. His free hand came up, yanking at the collar of my dress, loosening the ties and pushing it off my shoulders. I heard a rip, but didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hans wrestled with the cloth until my breasts bounced free. The familiar pendant slapped against my sternum, its chain cool against my already flushed skin. He slid his palms slowly up my body, from my hips to my breasts, then cupped one in each hand. Massaging the malleable tissue and pinching lightly at my nipples.

That sent my patience over the edge, and I reached down as I balanced briefly back on the balls of my feet, guiding him into place. His grip on me tightened as I slowly slid myself onto his cock, and both of our mouths dropped open. He gave an untampered moan, thumbing my nipples a final time before sliding his hands to wrap about my waist. Easing me onto his massive girth.

He was still too large to me; every time he felt a little painful going in. Until my arousal offset his size, and all I could feel was the burning heat. I had come to enjoy that sensation of his cock stretching me. The pain it brought was just a teasing reminder of the pleasure to come. This time was no different, and as I sunk down to the base, my thighs quivered with delight. I stayed there a moment, felt him twitch beneath me expectantly, enjoying the heat of his body between my legs.

When I began to move up and down, his head lolled back again, and his hands on my waist tightened. His hips bucked up against mine as I came down, practically tossing me up into the air. I was quickly gasping, the pressure and pleasure building within me. I leaned forward, placing my palms on his broad chest to give myself a better rocking momentum. My core flexed and tightened, and I held my breath as my vision flashed white. Close. I was so close already. I was slowing, unable to keep the pace as my head began to swim and my mouth dropped back open.

With a hearty growl, he cupped my ass in his hands, and deftly rolled. I gasped loudly as my shoulders hit the bed, my hips hoisted up as he bent me over his knees. His meaty palms massaged my backside as he slowly rolled his hips against mine. I saw stars at the edge of my eyes, and my moan was embarrassingly loud. It only encouraged the hulking orc, and he picked up my previous momentum and then some. Our hips smacking together loudly, the bed rocking and creaking beneath us. He moved deeper, plunged harder, and my back arched in response. I couldn’t reach him with my hands, so balled my fists into the sheets as I felt myself edging closer again.

I cried out, felt the gushing release, and felt him growl again. Bending over me. Riding through my climax with his fast, deep thrusts. I reached up, catching the back of his neck and pulling him down to me as I lifted my shoulders off the bed to meet him. Forcing him to bend in half over my hips lifted to his to crush our mouths together. I bit his thick lip as I fell back.

“Don’t stop!” I breathed, my fingers clenching into his thick mane.

He rumbled again, and his thrusts returned to their previous pace. Sensitive and wetter than before, I nearly peaked again. But instead came to a comfortable, rolling edge of pleasure that I melted into as I felt him shudder and groan a few minutes later.

My eyes must have closed, because I didn’t know he had bent back down until his big lips pressed back against mine. I willingly opened my mouth, inviting in his huge tongue, rolling mine around it. His tusks scraped against my cheeks, and I could feel his long hair brushing against my face.

I shuddered with delight as he slowly pulled out, my heart racing in my breast. He broke our kiss to run his lips down my jaw, down my neck, kissing over my sternum and each collar bone, skirting the pendant. Licking up the damp sweat pooling there. I laughed weakly, feeling his progress with my hand still on the back of his head.

Finally he came back up, having made it nearly to my navel and covered almost every inch of my flushed skin with his big mouth. I opened my eyes, looking up at him with a languid smile. His slate blue gaze, the stormy skies at sea, watched me with a great soft warmth in their depths. I sighed happily as he kissed me again, letting his big hand scoop under my waist and pull me to lay on him as he rolled onto his back.

“I missed you.” I told him, propping myself up on my elbows over his chest to look down at him.

He sighed deeply, contentedly, running his big hands up and down my bare back. Pushing my ruined skirt off the rest of the way and tossing it to the side. I rolled down, resting my ear against his chest to hear his own racing heart beneath.

“Would that you never had to.” He murmured, his deep, rolling timbre sending shivers down my spine.

I kissed the skin of his breast, tasting the salty sweat there, then ran the tip of my tongue over the nipple. He chuffed lightly beneath my administrations, and I smiled.

“I always miss you,” I admitted quietly, tracing my fingertips over his firm muscles, laying a light kiss on each after my fingers passed over them, “Even when you just go to the other room.” I craned my neck back, stretching and sliding up to kiss at his thick neck. “I never want to be away from you.”

He gave a heavy snort, one of his happy ones, his big hand coming up to trace his large knuckles gently along my jaw. “I don’t deserve you.” He said, his words belittled by the fondness with which he spoke them.

I rested my elbows on his chest again, propping myself up to lean over his head and meet his gaze. I smiled shyly, and his thick brow softened, his lips curled into my favorite gentle shape. He kept the back of his hand against the edge of my face, his thumb coming out to wipe lightly against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes.

“You undervalue yourself.” I replied.

I felt his rumbling reply down the length of my body laid atop his torso. “I have done nothing good in my life. Nothing deserving of a reward like you… But by the Gods I am thankful for whatever fool made the mistake that brought you to me...” He brushed his hand open, resting his palm flat against the side of my face. “... I would give you everything in my power. Anything you want.”

I smiled, opening my eyes to meet his. “I want nothing.” I reminded him. “Just you. You’re all I need to be happy.”

He grunted, shaking his head in disbelief as he always did. “I could give you more….”

“You have given me everything.” I assured him, turning and resting my head back into the crook of his neck. “I don’t think I could ever be happier.”

He sighed, the deep billowing breath causing me to rise and fall with his chest. I closed my eyes, listening to it gush through his lungs like bellows on a forge. He ran his hand through my hair, gently stroking it as our breathing and heart rates slowed. Shifting, he wrapped his arm around me, rolling onto his side and cocooning me with his huge body.

“You are my everything, Madara,” He whispered against the top of my head, “You are my air. My heart. My world.”

I smiled, nuzzling against him and tucking myself neatly into his chest. “Then you have already given me the world.”

...

The End (for now)

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