#my brain matter has been made better by this knowledge

[ghastlytofu]

Wanted to share that while playing Origin Astarion, immediately after Wyll's "be my mirror" conversation conversation, I decided to chance confessing to being a vampire since I figured Wyll's also a "monster" turned against his will... and then Astarion hilariously CRITICALLY FAILED THE CHARISMA ROLL... but Wyll was pretty kind and supportive anyway! He even said, "Good thing for you you're so godsdamned charming. Besides, once I've made an ally, I'm not so quick to abandon him." despite the critical fail!

we don't deserve wyll..... he took that critical fail and said 'here have some critical support instead. i just think you're Neat :)'

#thank you anon #my brain matter has been made better by this knowledge #baldur's gate 3 #wyllstarion #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin

[vanteguccir]

Atelophobia | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N has suffered with an eating disorder for years, but lately, - because of the some "fans" and social media - her insecurities have been taking her to a more than dangerous path, which she couldn't get out without help.

Warning: anorex!a, eating disorder, comparison, self sabotage, self hatred, panic attack, pure angst... PLEASE read with caution!

Requested?: No.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: This is not intended to trigger anyone or an instruction of how to lose weight. Read at your own risk.

PS. 2: Written by a girl - me - who goes through this every day.

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Atelophobia; the fear of not being good enough.

This was one of the millions of fears and problems that haunted Y/N's mind. Her head convinced her a long time ago that she simply wasn't enough; for her school teachers, for her classmates, for her friends, for her parents, past boyfriends... not even for herself.

This led her to listen to what others said and thought about herself since she was very young, the desire to be perfect and within society's standards in all aspects of a human being consumed her; personality, thoughts, knowledge... body.

She was told all the time how she should behave, act, and be. She was just a child, but that didn't seem to matter to those who did it, clogging her up with responsibilities and comparisons.

One thing led to another. Her desperation to be the best at everything started to include her own body. "Fat" was the first word people used to describe her. She had no control over the situations around her, but she had control over her weight.

Y/N was always the biggest girl in her class, and her classmates seemed to love reminding her of that; often being excluded from work groups, forgotten in groups of friends, or not chosen in any team during Physical Education classes.

Until the year when everything changed. During the school vacation, she decided to change, intending to return to school as a new girl. The new cycle started well, Y/N saw a nutritionist, cutting out all fatty foods from her routine and consuming only healthy ones. She started going to the gym daily, doing the recommended training time. All of this led her to lose a significant amount of weight.

Soon, the vacation was over, and with that, the negative comments from her classmates were replaced by positive comments. Girls asking what she had done to lose weight like that, searching for advice and seeing her as a miracle. Boys saying how changed and prettier she looked.

How could she not fall in love with her own illness?

So, that made her feel good. Too good... her mind began to yearn to become thinner, more beautiful, just to hear more from others. And then the healthy diet and the one hour training at the gym were no longer enough for her. She needed more if she wanted to be better.

Y/N then intensified her training, staying at the gym for 2 hours per day, doing more reps with more weight. She crossed out several foods from the list of permitted that her nutritionist had made, choosing for herself the ones she thought were ideal, until it had almost nothing left.

Her brain self-sabotaged so that she wouldn't go out with her friends, because they would definitely want to eat somewhere and she wouldn't be able to.

She no longer participated in family dinners, creating excuses so as not to be forced to sit at the table and eat.

Her mind convinced her that she wasn't thin enough to satisfy her boyfriends' sexual and non-sexual desires, which made her pull away during or at the beginning of any relationship she had until the guy got tired, or she simply ended it.

She spent hours on the internet, searching for sensational diets that reduced daily calories to 500 or less, promising extraordinary weight loss. In addition to getting on the scale at least 4 times a day, hoping for a miracle every time she looked at the numbers.

Y/N replaced her eating schedules with random hobbies like drawing, learning a new instrument, or picking flowers from her garden to make flower crowns, occupying her time and mind.

Some things scared her, her period hadn't come in months, clumps of hair fell out every time she ran her hands through it. Her vision went dark at least 3 times a day. Her body shivered from the complete cold of her insides, and her stomach hurt more than usual.

But she had to suffer them alone since she had no one to talk to about, always alone.

Until Y/N met Matt.

Matt was the boy who made her want to get better. He encouraged her to look for a hospital that fit her preferences, where Y/N finally began to receive psychiatric and psychological care.

Her diet changed for the better, into foods that Y/N saw as safe. She did not abandon the gym but reduced the weight and time, maintaining her training just for the health of her muscles, as she had lost a lot of lean mass during her worst moment.

The calculator in her head finally stopped. Her eyes started seeing food as just food and not as the enemy. Her stomach craved for all the snacks she loved, and she finally ate them, without feeling guilty.

Matt was so thoughtful about her entire situation, having suffered himself with extreme anxiety from a young age. He could tell he understood in parts what it was like to live with a mental illness.

So he helped her maintain her healthy diet and eat all her daily meals within her limit - often opting to eat together in their room, since he knew the trepidation Y/N still felt about doing it in front of other people.

Matt praised her in every possible situation, trying not to be extreme but to show his intense love and support for the girl. All of that was helping her a lot.

Until it wasn't.

Y/N and Matt never hid their relationship from the public, the girl knew how famous her boyfriend was and how difficult it could be to keep their relationship hidden, they would be seen together at one time or another.

So it wasn't surprising that the girl appeared in some of the triplets' pictures sometimes, and that's what happened that Friday.

As usual, Nick posted a photo dump on the triplets Instagram to promote the publication of their new car video, and one of the photos was of Matt and Y/N, specifically one in which the two were sitting on the couch in their living room, the girl had her legs draped over Matt's thighs, while his tattooed arm wrapped tightly around her waist, huge smiles decorating their faces.

It was a cute photo, but apparently, that wasn't what fans thought.

While Matt and his brothers were in the kitchen, preparing healthy snacks - a habit they built through the girl, but which in the end helped everyone -, Y/N was lying on her bed in the room she shared with Matt, wrapped in too-warm covers, holding her phone with her right hand while her left hand wrapped around her stomach in an almost painful grip.

Her thumb scrolled through the comments screen beneath the post. Almost everyone there talking about her picture with Matt.

"Matt can do so much better than her"

"I really don't know what he saw in her"

"She's going to end up crushing him like that"

"I'll pay for the gym for her if that's the price for Matt to have a worthy girlfriend"

And so on, it was as if they knew all of Y/N's weaknesses.

Some fans of them could be cruel when they wanted to, and Y/N knew this by heart since seeing Nick crying several times because he was body shamed, or when she noticed Chris being quieter than usual after reading comments saying how loud he was and how that was unbearable.

Her heart was crushed every time she saw Matt suffer in silence until he couldn't hold it in any longer and finally cried in her lap for hours after reading people saying how insignificant and quiet he was in the videos.

Even though a huge mass of the fandom loved them with all their hearts and took care of them as much as the distance of a phone screen allowed, it still wasn't enough to swallow the hate comments.

But when it came to Y/N, more than half of the fandom turned against her. Maybe out of envy, but it was obvious that the girl didn't see it that way. She was convinced that they were right.

Her heart tightened as if someone was crushing it with their bare hands. The air seemed to escape her lungs, and the lunch she ate hours before seemed to want to go up her throat. Her fingers trembled as she held her stomach, feeling everything she had and didn't have there. Her eyes began to water, her lips quivering from the tears that wanted to escape.

Y/N quickly moved her finger to the back button, hoping to break out of the horrible cycle she was about to enter. A loud sob escaped her lips when, upon finally leaving the post, her feed reloaded, and a picture of a model that Y/N followed and admired appeared.

Comparison was her biggest enemy.

Negative thoughts about herself began to pollute her mind, everything around her becoming a fog. The sounds coming from the kitchen became muffled to her ears. Y/N's right hand - which was holding her phone - was gripping the device in such a way that her fingers turned white. Painful sobs escaped her mouth as her eyes remained fixed on the woman's perfect figure.

Why can't I be like her?

The longing for the sensations she felt when she starved hit her chest hard. The desire to want to be as thin as before - or more - filled her.

It didn't take long, and soon, the bedroom door was slowly opened, Matt's silhouette appearing behind it. His face was lit up with a smile - probably because of some joke his brothers made - while his right hand held a plate with two sandwiches.

His cheerful expression was replaced by a frown of concern. Matt quickly closed the door with his feet, walking towards the bed, haphazardly placing the plate on the nearest bedside table before sitting down on the mattress.

His hands flew to Y/N's waist, stopping over her own hand that was squeezing her skin with a force that was sure to leave it bruised.

The girl seemed to wake up from her trance, lifting her head and meeting Matt's calming - but worried - gaze. She cried harder as she imagined what her boyfriend would be thinking of her now.

Automatically, her mind started to play her current state, messy hair, swollen and red face, skin wet with tears, eyes half closed and mouth open, allowing sobs to escape from there.

"M-Matt-" Her sentence was cut off by a sob, her eyes closing tightly.

Matt took a deep breath, trying to process what to do next. His left hand - the one that didn't cover hers - slowly took the phone, taking it out of his girl's death grip. He glanced briefly at the screen, automatically understanding what was happening before locking it and putting the device aside.

He moved his body so that it was closer to hers, resting his hand on her spine and guiding her until she laid her head on his chest, caressing the area below his fingers.

Matt felt his heart break with every tremble that rocked the body beneath his caused by the sobs. If he could take that pain away from his girlfriend, he would.

"It's okay, baby, let it out. I'm right here." He cooed, his fingers caressed the tangled strands of her hair lightly, stroking the area while moving his upper body back and forth, slowly calming his girlfriend.

"Ma-Matty-" Y/N's voice was weak, wobbly from the pain in her heart.

Matt removed his hand from hers for a few seconds, stretching it to the bedside table - where the plate was -, taking the bottle of water that Y/N always filled before going to sleep. He opened the lid in one quick movement, bringing it close to his girl's face.

"Come on, my love. Sit down for a moment and take a sip of water. Please." The boy asked in a soft voice, helping Y/N straighten her posture before bringing the bottle closer to her lips, helping her take a few small sips of the contents.

He closed the bottle after making sure she was satisfied, placing it on the mattress before turning his attention to Y/N again. He brushed away the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear.

"What if they're right?" She asked in a whisper, catching her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep from crying.

"No, they aren't." Matt's tone was convincing, as if he was absolutely sure of what he was saying. "You are not worse than others because of your weight. You look great as you are. Your body is perfect, do you know why? Because he's healthy enough to carry you around and take care of you." The boy held her hands lightly, stroking the back of her fingers gently as he looked into her eyes. "The recovery journey is not easy, I remember the words your psychologist said to me when we had that session together. I imagine your head when you see clothes getting tighter, and these comments certainly make you want to give up, I know you, baby."

He paused momentarily, watching her reactions carefully.

Y/N knew that, recovery was hard work. Not wanting to die was hard work.

"Recovery is not a race. You don't have to feel guilty about taking less or more time than you originally thought or having relapses from time to time. This is part of the process, and I want you to understand this. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life. When I look at the most beautiful things, I remember you. In the pink tulips of the flower shop across the street, in the Cassiopeia constellation, in the bees that fly in our garden and in the greenest tree I have ever seen." Y/N let out a tearful laugh when she heard him mention the tree, knowing his immense love for nature. "Because you're pretty like them."

"I-I'm sorry." The girl whispered, sniffling then lowering her gaze in shame. "I... I saw the photos that Nick posted, and there were comments..." She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

"Oh baby." He leaned slightly over Y/N, sealing his lips over her warm forehead. "If you want to apologize, let me do it. If you went through this now, it was because of me."

"No, Matt. It was never and will never be your fault." Y/N shook her head, wiping her eyes momentarily with the sleeve of her - his - hoodie, sniffling slightly before taking one of Matt's hands, intertwining their fingers. "You don't control people, much less through the internet. They will always talk a lot because they are behind a screen that protects them, but that will never be your fault. I would rather go through this a thousand times and have you with me than never have you again."

"I understand." He paused momentarily. "Please, don't let it get to that point again while you're alone. If you see something that upsets you or makes you feel bad, turn it off instantly and call me. I want to be there to help you. I want to be there for you." The brunette asked, staring at her eyes.

Y/N sighed, nodding her head and leaning slightly closer to him, resting her forehead on Matt's shoulder, exhaling the softening scent and perfume that exuded from the fabric of the hoddie on his body.

Her eyes burned from the tears she shed, closing them tightly to prevent more from falling, her heart still feeling sore from everything.

"If you want, we can contact that psychologist again, the one who helped you throughout the process at the hospital." Matt lowered his head, bringing his face closer to the back of Y/N's head, pressing his lips against his girl's hair, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body close to his. "I want to attend some sessions just like we did last time, so I understand how I can help you this time."

Y/N felt her heart warm instantly, her free hand snaking to Matt's thigh closest to her, stroking the covered skin lightly.

"Okay."

Matt loved Y/N more than he loved himself, and he would make sure that she understood that she wasn't alone anymore.

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

‼️: If you relate to any of the things that I wrote on this, feel free to send me a message, my DMs are open!! I'm always open to talking to you all. You don't need to suffer alone. You're all super strong, and you got this!! I love you 🩷

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

#x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #sturniolo #oneshot #fluff #angst #mental illness #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt au #matt fanfic #matt #matty #matt sturniolo x reader angst

[edenesth]

The Royal Librarian

Pairing: tutor!Yeosang x librarian!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Yeosang, if you don't confess your feelings to the librarian soon, I swear I'll do it for you."

The royal tutor's eyes widened at the princess' words. Resisting the urge to slap a hand over her mouth, he hissed, "Your highness! You will do no such thing, that's highly inappropriate." Despite his disapproval, she merely smirked, enjoying the panic in his eyes as you walked past the two in the palace library, checking the newly arrived books.

Arms folded, she locked eyes with the tutor mischievously, retorting, "You can't tell me what to do; I'm the princess." Yeosang sighed deeply, questioning why he was stuck tutoring this unruly student instead of her disciplined elder brother.

"Why won't you just leave me be? I promised I'd talk to her soon," He pleaded. She scoffed, "You've said that before, and I don't see any progress. This is your last chance, or I'll take matters into my own hands."

With a defeated sigh, he smacked his palm against his forehead, muttering a curse. The princess grinned, satisfied, and resumed her studies with a quill in hand, "I'm only doing this for you because you're my favourite teacher."

Yeosang gave her an unamused stare, "You do realise I'm your only teacher."

She smiled sarcastically, "Exactly, so you have no choice but to do as I say."

As their lesson concluded for the day, the princess shot a threatening squint at her tutor, her fingers subtly gesturing, 'I'm watching you,' before she gracefully exited the library.

Defeated, Yeosang nodded and bowed lightly as he watched her leave, a sense of resignation settling over him. If he wished for a peaceful existence, compliance seemed to be his only option. His heart raced as he turned his attention to you, who were diligently ticking away on your checklist, ensuring the library remained well-organised, as you always do.

He found himself captivated by the sight of you working from a distance; in his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. From the very first encounter, he sensed it was love at first sight. As he got to know you better, he discovered that your allure extended beyond physical beauty.

Your kindness, knowledge, and passion for your work set you apart. It might sound cliché, but to him, you were incomparable to anyone else. While the princess' lessons could be torturous at times, your presence never failed to brighten his day.

He took a deep breath and dared himself to approach you. Nervously, his hands instinctively moved to straighten his hair and adjust his clothes. Despite having spoken to you before, you always made him stumble over his words like a bumbling fool.

Upon noticing the handsome tutor's presence, you greeted him with a warm smile, setting down your work documents, "Hey Yeosang, how was the lesson today? I hope her highness wasn't too difficult; she's been in a good mood lately. Do you think it has anything to do with the painter she's been seeing in town?"

He chuckled shyly, "It was alright, thanks for asking. I've heard about her new friend; she won't shut up about him. Unfortunately, that doesn't change the way she torments me."

Laughing, you shook your head, "You poor thing. What will it take for her to let you live, hm?"

Yeosang hesitated, unsure whether to be honest. He did know what it would take for her to go easy on him. This could be the perfect time to broach the topic, but he searched his brain for a way to smoothly transition the conversation.

Scratching his head sheepishly, he said, "Yeah, trust me, I always ask myself why I'm stuck with her. It would've been great if only I got the crown prince."

You nodded with a knowing smile, "I know what you mean; the prince is certainly very mature compared to his sister. It's reassuring to know the future of our kingdom is in good hands."

Drawing closer, he leaned against your work desk, attempting to appear cool, unaware of how awkward he looked. You giggled into your fist, finding him adorable. His shyness had always endeared him to you; the tutor was unlike any other guy you'd ever met.

If only he knew how special he was... to you.

"Speaking of which, the sudden news of the prince's engagement was quite a surprise, wasn't it?" He tried to steady his heart as he began his mission.

You brightened immediately, "Oh, it sure was! What a joyous occasion it is. We could use more positive news like this around Wonderland, especially with the ongoing tensions with Utopia."

Enthusiastically agreeing, he said, "We sure do! Have you also heard about the duke and the mapmaker's recent engagements?"

You nodded excitedly, sighing wistfully, "I have. It must be the season of love. Makes me wonder if my turn will ever come."

Here's my chance!

Biting his lip, he prepared for the pivotal moment, "Well, perhaps it will come sooner than expected," Your breath hitched at the direction he was taking, "Perhaps Wonderland could use another engagement soon..."

Your heart pounded as he circled around your desk to approach you, "Yeosang... what are you—" He cleared his throat and whispered your name, "I've been in love with you from the moment we first met. Will you allow me to court you?"

While you were convinced you must have been dreaming, he persistently proved you wrong by dedicating all his efforts to courting you over the next few months. The two of you became the centre of attention among the palace staff. Although he had initially hoped the princess would let him breathe, she had shifted her attention to urging him to propose.

Once he was certain that your feelings matched his own, he needed no further pushing from his student. True to his word, he kept his promise, and before you could fully grasp it, you found yourself strolling around the library with a beautiful ring adorning your finger.

"Wow, what a gorgeous ring you're wearing," Your head snapped up to find none other than your fiancé teasing you, "I know, I'm getting married soon." You responded smugly. His confident grin left you amused, marvelling at the transformation from the timid royal tutor you first met.

Gone was the once shy Kang Yeosang.

You gasped when he gently pushed you against a bookshelf, his hand shielding the back of your head as he leaned in, "Care to share who the lucky guy is?"

Slapping a hand on his chest, you attempted to push him away, "Not here, Yeo—"

But he cut you off, "Tell me."

You relented with a sigh, "It's you."

His smile widened, "That's right, my love." Any resistance melted away the moment he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Just as he had predicted, Wonderland witnessed another engagement, and this time, it was yours. It was an unforgettable union, etched into the minds of all, thanks in no small part to the princess who claimed all credit. She proudly reminded everyone that her tutor was, at last, marrying his dream girl—the royal librarian.

In case you haven't already noticed, all the parts of this series are sorta interconnected since it's in the same universe. This one also teases the next member's part. Have fun guessing who it is, teehee.

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #yeosang x you #yeosang x reader #ateez fic #yeosang drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #yeosang imagines

[sex-storytime]

Rachel's Cherry

The first few months of college were a blur of new experiences, friends, and concerns. Here I was just an eighteen year old virgin intent on keeping my purity until the right person came along. But as months passed I not only saw more sexual sights and things done at parties and in dorm rooms but on the lawns of the campus and at pledging events. I became more and more distracted and increasingly curious about my sexual thoughts that just wouldn't go away. In fact that's about all I could think about.

As a virgin I still feared the experience and wondered constantly what it would be like the first time, how would it feel, would it hurt, would I enjoy it? And most importantly, would I be able to have an orgasm. Then there was a question of whether or not I should let the guy cum inside me. What would that feel like when he did? And lastly birth control, which should I use?

I had been experimenting with masturbation for quite a while now so that I could feel the pleasure, but not having to worry about all the risks so deeply instilled in me from my parents and others. But my eyes and brain both began to wander, whenever I would notice a good-looking guy in my classes. And, I would wonder how big his cock was when it was hard and how he was in bed. Then I would think they were just out to get laid like my mom always told me they were. Or, I would think that just maybe there should be more to the first time I gave my cherry than have a young stud taking his pleasure, and then brag to his friends that he had fucked a virgin. Little did I know just how the course of my life would change and lead me into a totally new and surprising erotic direction.

I met Jeff at the part time job I took in order to earn some money to pay for school. Actually he was my mentor while I was an intern at his company. The college thinks that life experiences are just as important as standard book knowledge. Therefore, each student completes an internship no matter what his or her major may be.

Jeff was friendly as well as business like from the start, and showed me quite a few things about the job I was to perform. He had this nature about him and I didn't feel the usual shyness when talking with new people that I usually had. He was thirty-five, newly single, with brown hair streaked with gray and deep blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. He also has an impressive athletic build with wide shoulders, which tapered to a narrow waist and well defined yet smooth stomach. We worked together a few days a week and the occasional weekend during the busy months. I looked forward to spending my time with him.

I definitely had a crush on him. I let my eyes linger on him… I flirted with him neievely and felt embarrassed with myself after each lost opportunity. My blossoming sexual mind began to visualise touching his body and being held in his tender embrace. It was the highlight of my week when I found that we would be working alone, just the two of us. Just he and I alone in the big office most of the time right next to each other. I started to cherish our days together and felt I could talk with him honestly and seriously about anything. Besides helping me learn the world of finance he was starting to seem like an old friend who I could really open up to about anything. And I did. I told him all about my life and… my non-existent sex life… and that I was a virgin.

He told me about his past, his love life, his ex… but he never once made any moves on me. He respected me. He was my teacher and I was his student… that was how our relationship was supposed to be. On Fridays we decided to go out for something to eat since work ended later than usual. The cafeteria had long since closed and this was a much better alternative than a frozen dinner from the microwave in my dorm. We both went home to shower, and change. In the shower I began to think about Jeff and couldn't help but fantasise about his cock as I rubbed my pussy picturing holding me tight making love to me.

I smiled and decided that I would shave my pussy. My roommate had told me shaving makes oral sex from a man's tongue feel so much better. Not that I felt I would get any oral sex from Jeff! He had made his position quite clear… but a girl can dream. Once I had a smooth pussy, I dressed thinking that later I would come home and get myself off while I dreamed of Jeff's tongue on my clit.

After I finished shaving I dried off and dressed in white lace bra and bikini panties. I put on my shortest skirt, which accentuated the gentle curves of my hips and revealed my legs emerging from a little higher than mid thigh. I pulled my tight tank top over my head to show my 32B breasts pressing hard against the material. I blushed as I saw my nipples against the material and I imagined Jeff's hands and mouth cupping, licking and caressing each one. With a sigh I came back to reality and realised my panties had become damp with my wetness.

"What am I thinking, Jeff is older and probably doesn't even think of me other than as an intern at work or a young friend. But I bet unlike the one track minds of guys my age, he must really know how to please a woman before fucking her."

I smiled and thought of his blue eyes looking passionately into his he made love to my body before he fucked me long and hard. A man like him carried just as much about a woman's orgasm as his own. I quickly finished getting ready and tried to push the sexual thoughts from my mind. I headed to the restaurant to meet up with him, and pretended that this was going to be our first real date.

I was late to the restaurant and saw Jef, waiting patiently outside. He smiled when he saw me. I found myself running towards him and he gathered me in his embrace. I gazed up at his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes, his lips, god, his full soft lips, and he rested his hand on my waist. Our look, his hand, I felt myself filling with adrenalin, felt the sudden simmer of arousal. He sort of moved to me, but didn't quite, so, I was the one, I moved my head to his and leaned in and we kissed. It was lovely, just amazing. He tasted different to the other boys, but nice. We were so soft, so gently, our lips barely touching, the tip of his soft tongue touching mine. And then I felt his hand on my ass, gently touching me there, cupping me through my skirt.

I felt my small nipple become stiff, and sensed myself become wet between my legs. I am not sure I had felt this before, in this context, he kissed me, his hand was on my ass, so soft, and I felt a sudden dampness in my vagina. It was so arousing, to feel this, to feel my young body reacting. I rested my hand on his thigh, I didn't know quite what to do, I mean, I knew what I could do, I didn't know quite how far I wanted to take this, but, well, I moved my hand upward, up along his firm thigh, and I put my hand on his cass as I pressed myself into him…, and felt his penis, through his jeans… it felt hard.

"You look beautiful tonight, Rachel," he said, as his gaze traveled from my head to my feet and back up again lingering for just for a moment on my hips and the curves of my breasts. He guided me into the restaurant, placing a gentle touch of his hand to the small of my back. He even pulled the chair out for me! As we waited for our food to arrive we made small talk about work and my classes.

I noticed him looking at me as if he wanted to say something. "What is it?" I asked, feeling for the first time a hint of shyness.

"Rachel, I know you told me you are a virgin but I was wondering… Are you looking for… a relationship?”

“Are you?” I blurted out, flustered.

“Yes…”

“I have spent the last few months… trying to get your attention.”

“I noticed.” He seemed embarrassed. “You are so young… sexy… why me?”

“Because you are my dream guy I suppose. You are the man I have been dreaming of since I became a teenager… a sweet prince… older… wiser…”

“You-you like that?” He stumbled.

“Oh yes… I guess I am attracted to older men.” I replied honestly.

There was a few minutes of silence while we ate our food. I could almost see the gears of his mind working, trying to find the right words. This was my opportunity.

“I want you Jeff, and I know you want me.”

“You do… I do?”

“That kiss was more than just a kiss between friends… and… I felt how hard you were when we hugged…” 

“But how can we make this work, I mean-”

“I want you. I want to be with you. Why don’t you take me home tonight?” I bravely said and waited for his response. 

“But you’re a virgin!” Jeff whispered.

“And tomorrow I wont be.” I really was going to go through with this. I never felt so scared.

“Do you want to lose your virginity… to me? Tonight?"

I blushed blood red and nodded. I smiled. He miled. He bent forward and whispered, as his breath became warm in my ear "Do you know what you have been doing to me these weeks we have been working together? I mean the way you walk and press your body against my arm when we are studying something, or the way you sit and cross and recross your legs? Do you know you have been driving me crazy?"

I was shocked and showed it. I tried to speak but finally just shook my head no.

He held my hand and moved even closer to my face and ear. As he talked his voice gave me chills. I shivered from it. He smiled and took both of my hands and held them tight and said: "Well then I'll have to tell you… I want you too. You’re so pretty and tonight you just look… incredible. Yes, you turned me on. My cock is hard and swollen with blood with a big purple head everyday when you leave work, Rachel.”

“Then take me to your bed… make love to me, Jeff?”

“I want to make love to you. I mean I want to be your first! I want us to go all the way tonight. yes, come back to my place tonight, don't go back home alone. Come home with me Rachel and let me make love to you, let me teach you and give you the pleasure of sex, complete sex."

I must have been three shades of red now and started to actually shake inside because I wanted him too. Only I didn't know how bad he wanted me. He added as he captured the tip of my ear between his teeth and bit gently: "This will change thins between us… are you ready for that? Do you really want me to be the one who takes your virginity?”

“Yes… show you how great sex can be."

His eyes were now looking directly into mine. He came closer and lightly kissed me. My hands trembled as I tensed under his first seduction. He reached under the table and touched my smooth upper thigh just at the edge of my skirt. As he continued to look deeply into my eyes. I sat there looking at his handsome face and not saying anything. I felt his hand move up under the hem of my skirt and slide down between my thighs. He was stroking my right inner leg making me hotter and full of sexual need. No, I was burning up inside. Luckily we were seated in a secluded corner of the restaurant because he began to move his hand slowly higher still up my leg. I didn't stop him or say a word.

His eyes twinkled devilishly as he looked into my eyes and as he kissed me again I felt his tongue slip into my mouth and his hand touching the corner of my panty leg no more than an inch from my pussy. I squeezed my legs together, capturing his hand on the smoothness of the upper end of my inner thigh. When he covered my panty, cupping my pussy, my first reaction was to moan but then I remembered and said to myself: "My god if he touches my naked pussy he'll know I shaved myself for him!" And suddenly, I desperately wanted him to touch me there.

I looked away from him, to the guy next to me as we ate, when I felt his hand on my knee. I stopped breathing for a second. I didn't look at you or acknowledge your touch but secretly willed you to continue. He must have read my mind because he gently slid his fingers over my mound. My breathing quickened but I still kept my head turned to my left. His fingers fanned out and began to creep toward my pantie clad slit. I clear my throat and shyly looked into his amazing eyes. His lust was burning there.

I unthinkingly parted my legs for him, and hisfingers found the elastic of my panties. My clit was so swollen now, and I ached for his touch, but we were sitting at a large table, from the right angle we could be seen. I was dying to release the moans and screams I was holding back, and he continued to tease me under the table, silently and yet urgently. Oh god, what was I going to do?

His talented finger finger slips inside my panties… but goes no further as I squirmed and wiggled as gently as I could. Damn him for teasing me like this - but oh don't stop!

No one noticed us - amazing since I felt like I was wearing a big sign that sid 'fuck me now'. I was extremely horny for him, but it would be another couple of hours or so before we could be alone. Jeff knew exactly what to do, but he held back because we were right in the middle of the dinner.

"Rachel, are you alright?" 

My voice was nowhere to be found. My throat was dry and I was dying to be fucked; but I was also too afraid to speak; Jeff knew what I wanted and needed.

As I was thinking it, Jeff ran a hand under my panty elastic and over my freshly shaven pussy. As his fingers went under my panties and over my bald pussy he smiled at me and said: "Oh my God, Rachel! A virgin who shaves! I like it and I want to see it."

I jumped when his fingers located my slit and I reached for his hand. I moaned the word: "No. No Jeff, not here. Not in the restaurant please! Wait until we get in your car?"

As I held his hand on my pussy, for some reason I didn't move it. I simply held it against my wet cunt and pressed slightly. Then he whispered, "I can’t wait… Open you legs wider for me Rachel. Open them."

I don't know why I did but I did. I opened my thighs wide and Jeff began to stroke up and down my smooth shaved pussy. I knew he could feel my wetness but I didn't care, I let him! To disguise our closeness I leaned into him and kissed him. I kept my thighs open and held his hand directly on my pussy as my tongue danced at his lips and he stroked me so softly and gently. The first person other than myself to ever touch me there was now doing it in a crowded restaurant and I loved it. I moaned softly as I sucked on his tongue and he made love to my virgin pussy.

As I closed my eyes I moaned his name. He kissed me a little harder as he rubbed three of his fingers up and down my entire wet slit. Then as I sighed I felt one of his fingers move into the entrance of my hole. As it entered my hole slowly, I didn't say no this time. I opened my thighs wider still. I moaned again. He had his entire hand now under the smooth fabric of my bikini panties; thighs spread wide open and letting him caress the smooth skin and hole between my legs.

As Jeff separated the folds of my pussy lips his finger began to enter my virgin pussy hole I just tried to speak, but only sighed the word, "Oh Jeff! Oh fuck your hand feels like magic! Oh fuck Jeff I am going to cum!" But, I didn't stop him!

I had to fight to stifle a moan as he entered me slowly but steady with that one finger. As he pushed and pumped it into me I pushed against it. Then he followed the first finger with another one. It felt so big going in. I opened my legs wider yet and moaned his name again. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. As we kissed and let our tongues fight; Jeff continued to drive me crazy with his two fingers inside my pussy as he made love to it under the table. My brain was racing! "Was this really happening?" I thought as my mind raced and his hand and fingers explored deeper and deeper inside me. I could feel him bumping up against my hem.

"Jeff" I gasped as he continued exploring my pussy and pushing deeper into my hole. "Jeff, I'm a virgin. I wasn't kidding!" I whispered.

"I know, and if you will relax a little and let me, Rachel, I plan on making you a little less virginal after tonight. I can show you what sex is all about. How it can feel so good when you reach a mind-blowing orgasm from someone who really wants to guide you into the world of intercourse and have it be enjoyable and pleasant. Oh Rachel, it feels so much better when you have an orgasm from someone else giving it to you. I'll be gentle and loving and make you enjoy it."

I smiled and said, "I know Jeff, but I'm so scared."

He told me about using his tongue and his fingers and his hands and finally his cock. He whispered in my ear how I would go wild when he licked my pussy. He smiled and said that it would be even better since I had shaved down there.

I said, " Oh Jeff it's not that I don't want to be with you, it's that I'm frightened. Frightened it will hurt me so bad. Well… That's what I’ve heard… about a girl's first time."

Jeff continued to tell me, "I will also show you how to give a man the pleasure he needs before I finally take that barrier away and show you what it's like to have a man's cock buried deep inside of you."

He explained seductively in my ear about the thrill of oral sex and what it would do to me as my body felt the stirrings of passion and lust from someone else touching it for the first time. "I want to… but I'm scared Jeff." I said as I trembled and tears welled up in my eyes.

"You might be scared but your body gives you away Rachel. It tells me you want to continue," he said as his fingers were brought out of my panties first to let me see the wetness, my wetness. And, secondly he showed me his fingers as he put them to his mouth and licked them clean. I heard him moan this time.

"We will do this together. Take small steps. I’m not some young guy desperate for a conquest… I will be gentle, loving and easy. I will pleasure you, on your terms. I will go down on you, Rachel… have you enjoy oral sex. Then we will only proceed when you tell me you are ready," he said as he wiped a tear tenderly off my cheek and kissed me again.

“Thank you, Jeff. That’s what I need… your experience… your love.”

"Do you know what I mean when I say I will lick and suck your pussy first so you will be very wet and very, very aroused, aroused enough to accept me?" he finished as he took my hands in his and squeezed them.

I said: "I . . . I think so, Jeff. But I don't know."

He said: "Would you like to come home with me now and try?"

I said: "Yes." I don't know why I said yes. Maybe it was my time and he was the one. Maybe it was the touch of this man. Maybe it was my growing need. It was a need that seemed to get worse every day. But whatever the reason, I said yes. And we sat looking at each other holding hands.

The waiter soon came by and he told the man to package it up since we both had to leave. We both had other things on our minds as Jeff held his arm around my body as we walked to his car. He opened the door for me and I slid in. His eyes watched my legs open a little as I got in. He shut the door and soon after we were pulling into the complex where he lived. We held each other as we walked to his door. I told him again that I was so scared. I knew he could feel me shaking with it.

Immediately upon entering and locking the door Jeff pulled me to him and kissed me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I accepted it and sucked on it as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. He held me as I bent my back pressing against him. My tongue began exploring and tasting the inside of his mouth and then his entered mine. He asked me, "Are you glad you came?"

I shook my head yes. He said, "Then tell me. Tell me how you feel."

I tried to look him in the eye but didn't make it. I told him, "I'm glad I'm here with you, it's very exciting, but I'm also very scared.”

He smiled and said, "I'm very glad you're here too, Rachel. Please don't be scared. I'm going to be very gentle with you. And I promise you will love everything we do starting with the feeling of oral sex and everything else that goes with it. But first you should get familiar with a man’s body and let me get acquainted with yours. OK?"

I smiled and nodded. Jeff slowly began running his hands all over my body as he began removing pieces of my clothing. He told me if I had any questions I should ask him and I should also explore his body with my hands and eyes. I didn't stop him but watched his fingers first unbutton my blouse. As it slid it off my shoulders as we both watched it fall to the floor. He kissed me again and after kissing down my neck and into my cleavage he told me: "Rachel! You are so beautiful! You look stunning."

His hands reached up and cupped my breasts for only a moment before his mouth came down and sucked my nipple on the outside of my bra. I held his head with my hands holding his mouth over one of my breasts. I sighed and said, "Oh Jeff!"

I stood before the man I had chosen in just my bra and skirt. Jeff smiled at me as his eyes held my eyes. I felt him run his hands down my sides and then up under my skirt over each of my thighs all the way to the top of my panties. He had my skirt up to my panties and was teasing me a little as his hands swept over my vulva and stomach up under my skirt. I jumped and reached for his hand. He moved his hands off my pussy and I started to relax. Then we both heard the snap and zipper being undone on my skirt. He looked at me and said, "Rachel, do you want to take this off?" 

I said, "Yes, yes I think so Jeff.

He said, "No Rachel, yes or no. Do you want me to take your skirt off?"

I said, "Yes I want you to take off my clothes," and as he pushed it down over my hips I wiggled out of the short tight skirt. When it hit the floor, he held my hand as I stepped out of it. As he undressed me, I now stood there not moving just watching him as he stepped back and looked at my body. I was standing before him now in only my bra and tiny bikini panties.

"Wow Rachel, your body is so beautiful and very sexy. I never realised how beautiful it was… you hid this so well why we worked. You are unbelievably lovely… gorgeous…" Jeff almost moaned the words as he pulled me to him and again rubbed my body against his as held me tight.

I felt the bulge of his cock hard in his pants against my naked thigh as we pressed together. He pressed his hips against me and began to rotate his bulge against my pussy. He smiled down at me and kissed my neck as he whispered in my ear, "Now it's your turn. Take my clothes off. Unzip me and release my cock for me Rachel. I'm getting so hard it hurts. Take it out and hold it, touch it, look at it, see what you have been doing to me all these weeks!"

I hesitated only for a moment. But, he took my hand and placed it on the outside of his trousers. I could feel his cock jumping and throbbing. He placed my other hand on his zipper and told me, "Take it out for me Rachel please? Show me you want this, don’t be scared to follow your instincts."

I looked down at his bulge and slowly unzipped his fly. He told me in a whisper: "Now take it out Rachel and feel it, look at it. See for yourself how hard it is. You should look at it and know about it. I will tell you all about my cock and explain what everything is once you release it. Take it out now Rachel and let me show you how hard I am for you…"

I sighed deeply and as my hands shook with excitement, I reached into his pants and took out his penis. It was beautiful! I looked so hard and thick and long. It throbbed in my hand like it was beating. In fact it was the first erect male cock I had ever seen in the flesh. As I unbelted his trousers and they opened more, it emerged completely from his boxers. I could feel its heat and its hardness with the skin around the hardness so soft. As I took the shaft in my hand I began to stroke it and squeeze it listening to him tell me what to do. I looked up at his face and smiled as he told me, "See it won't bite you. But, do you see how hard it is Rachel? You make it that way. When I see you, and stand next to you and we brush against each other while we work, I get hard like this for you everyday. Rachel… you make me so horny."

I caressed every inch of his 7-inch cock and the large set of balls that hung under it. Teasing the head with my nails rubbing gently across it and under the fat mushroom cock head, I pumping the shaft making him moan. Then my hands moving down the shaft as I worked on my first very, very hard cock doing everything Jeff told me to do. When a drop of pre-cum exited the hole in the cock head, Jeff told me all about it and how it got there. He told me to take my finger and wipe it off and then taste it. I did and it wasn't nasty like I was sure it would be. In fact it had almost not taste, maybe a little sweet. After a few minutes, Jeff said, "Oh fuck, Rachel that feels so good… But if we don't stop I'm going to cum and I don't want to, not yet, not like this anyway. There will be time for that in a little while. I didn't want to orgasm yet, I want you to have a few before you give me my own."

He was thinking of giving me several orgasms? I had waited so long for this! He gently pushed me back and my knees hit the edge of the large bed. As I fell back he stripped off the rest of his clothes and moved up next to me and began to kiss my neck and shoulders.

I watched as his fingers moved to my bra and unhooked the front clasp. I was going to try to cover myself, but didn't. He slowly pulled it open and then off my arms. He removed it completely and freeing my breasts. Then he stopped to look at them. I felt funny letting him see them but he kissed me and as his hand cupped one he said, "Oh Rachel, your tits are perfect."

I know I don't have huge breasts but I think they are adequate. They sit up high and they're firm with long pink nipples. Jeff smiled as he saw my nipples sticking out hard already. He used his finger to flick over them making them jump and bounce like a rubber band when he released them. With one of his hands he softly cupped a breast and squeezed it while his mouth and tongue moved over the other one and worked on it. He pushed the two together so that he could lick and suck both nipples at the same time. He licked up between my cleavage and kissed me again as his hands worked on my tits.

I kissed him and as he told me, "I can't believe how beautiful you are Rachel… you don’t need to do this… with me… if you are still a virgin. I already feel like a very lucky man being here with you tonight. You make me so hot and so hard!"

He then moved back down between my tits and again made love to my breasts for a long time. As I ran my hands through his hair and across his back I told him, "This is further than I have ever gone before Jeff. I want to be here… with you. Please be gentle with me."

He looked up at me and said, "If you’re sure?”

I nodded as he lavished his attention on my little titties.

“I will make your first time a good one. I’m honoured."

Fuck I loved it what his mouth was doing. His wonderful mouth was sucking and licking and sucking and licking all over my tits and nipples. Over and over again he sucked them making my nipples as hard as small rocks. He even bit them gently. I just laid back and moaned and moaned and moaned.

He looked up into my eyes and said, "Are you ready, Rachel?"

I softly said the word, "Yes…"

As I was saying it, he was moving his lips down my body and kissed my stomach and around the bottom of my breasts. He licked under them making me wiggle. "That tickles", I told him.

He licked around my stomach and into the belly button hole. I giggled again as I let my hands slide down still holding his head gently.

Further down he kissed. My body was moving from the feeling of his lips and tongue on it. Then he licked over the top of my bikini panties. As I felt him hooking two fingers in the waistband on each side of them, he started pulling them down my hips. He said, "Lift Rachel, lift up so I can get these off."

Now I was starting to worry again. My mom had always told me that once a lady lets a man take off her panties, she has no more defenses. She has more or less decided to give herself to the man taking them off. Why I did, I don't know for sure, but when I heard him tell me to lift, I did.

I lifted my ass up about a foot off the bed so he could remove my panties. They were very wet between my legs and stuck a little against my pussy. I looked at him and started trembling like a newborn kitten as he removed the panty off of each leg. He kissed each of them as he removed the panty off each of my feet. Then he looked directly at me as he put my panties to his face and inhaled deeply. He moaned as he dropped the panties on the bed. Jeff then came up and kissed me as I felt his hands move my legs apart. He said, "Now little one, don't be scared. It will be OK Rachel, I promise. You will love this I guarantee it. Now open your legs wide for me. OK?"

As I watched him I separated my legs and he said, "Hmmm a virgin with a shaved pussy! You look so beautiful Rachel. So lovely! You look good enough to eat and that's what I am going to do." He smiled at me as his hand slowly rubbed the smooth skin all around my pussy and he said, "Maybe you're not as innocent as I first thought?"

I smiled shyly and tried to close my thighs in embarrassment only to have him hold them apart. "I have a surprise for you" he said, as he reached for something on the side table.

I soon saw that it was strips of silk fabric, which he used to tie my wrists and bind them securely to the underside of the bed somehow. But what was more surprising was that I didn't protest at all. I just looked at him helplessly watching him do it. He was going to tie me up and deep down inside my brain… I knew I wanted this! I wanted to be bound! I wanted to be held tight so I couldn't resist. I was just going to let him have his way with me now. I had resolved to do this and I really felt I would never go through with it unless I was forced a little somehow. But! I didn't protest at all as he moved between my spread legs

As he moved around between them, I opened my thighs wider for him. He used his hands to gently but forcefully pushed them open even more. "Trust me" he said as his face lowered and he kissed first the skin of my inner thighs and around and up over my stomach again and back down to my inner thigh.

Then as I moaned loudly, I arched my back and closed my eyes as he finally began to lick my pussy. It was wonderful, unbelievable. His lips gave me a shock that went into and over my entire body. He was my mentor, my teacher and he was licking my pussy, my shaved virgin pussy! I had never felt anything like it before. It was a feeling, which can't be described by words. You have to experience having your pussy licked for yourself ladies. But please! Experience it! If you haven't had it done yet, get someone to do it to you. Trust me, you won't forget it and you'll thank me for telling you. A pussy was made for licking first before fucking. If your man isn't doing that, find another man.

Jeff's mouth and tongue drove me wild within seconds. "Oh Jeff, OH SHIT! OH FUCK!! I CAN'T TAKE IT!! AHHHH!!!!!!!" I screamed at just the first few touches of his smooth soft tongue against my naked pussy.

But he didn't stop. He relentlessly licked and sucked my pussy while I thrashed and moaned under his mouth. My hips were now rocking my pussy into his face as he sucked and licked me. He would lick from the top of my slit to the very bottom, and then used his fingers as he pushed back the hood of skin over my clit and he began to softly suck my clit into his mouth. I screamed with rapture!

At the same time he massaged my virgin hole with his fingers. I buck my hips up pushing against his face feeling myself lose all control. He had me! I was gone and the pleasure was driving me higher and higher. All I wanted now was more, more stimulation. He didn't disappoint me.

He raised up off of me then to look at my wet pussy so close to his face. He rested his head on one of my thighs so that he could watch his fingers play with my clit which was now sticking out from its covering and getting harder and harder under his touch. He applied the gentlest pressure around it without touching it directly for a time. I was pumping my pussy trying to fuck his face. I whispered, "Touch it Jeff. Touch my clit baby! OH FUCK! Jeff I'm going to cum! TOUCH IT!!"

Then he pressed directly on my clit, then released the pressure for a second before applying it again. As he pressed again the electric pulses seemed to travel from my clit all over my body. I tensed as his finger once again pressed and released again and as his other hand and fingers massaged and slightly entered my virgin hole.

Jeff said, "Don't worry Rachel you will cum hard many times before I fuck that little virgin hole."

He licked and sucked me teasing me and kept me from that final step that would make me cum! He spent so much time pleasing my body I was drifting and drifting in a world of bliss. And then, he finally let the orgasm I wanted, and which had been so close all along, to finally overtake my mind, body and soul. As he sucked directly on my clit I arched my back and moaned as tears sprang to my eyes, "Oh yes Jeff! I'M CUMMING, OH YES I'M CUMMING! OH FUCK YES! NOW! OH FUCK!!! OH FUCK!! OH YES! JeffNNNN!! I'M CUMMINGG AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And I did! I had back to back orgasms!

I screamed as he continued to suck me even harder. I felt the strange sensation of muscles tightening uncontrollably inside of me and then contracting and as I felt my cum almost running out me, he still continued to eat my pussy. I felt like I was peeing but I knew I wasn't. My orgasm seemed to go on and on and on as Jeff continued to love and stimulate my pussy and body with his fingers, mouth and tongue.

I had my ass elevated up off the bed and as he sucked, my body was fucking on his face. I was cumming and someone else for the first time was getting me off. It was my first time and I fucking loved it! I knew right then that I had to have more of this, a lot more. I don't know how long he continued to work on me but slowly I began to come down from my first real set of orgasms given by another person.

I watched Jeff untie my bindings, and helped me up allowing me to come into the embrace of his arms. We sat facing each other and my legs were over his. I could see his enormous cock inches from my wet and opened pussy. I signed and said, "Oh Jeff, that was so wonderful!"

As he held me stroking my hair and kissing me tenderly, all inhibitions I had were gone. I was his and only wanted to show him the joy and pleasure I had felt. I kept looking down seeing his hard cock throbbing with his excitement. I kissed him briefly before saying, "My turn. Tell me and show me how to do you with my mouth."

And I lowered my face between his legs now and let my mouth and tongue taste his cock. As he leaned back on his elbows I looked at him and asked, "What do I do first?"

It was another first for me tonight. Jeff's cock was the first one I had ever touched and now I was going to taste it. First I licked the tip and then I sucked the tip into my mouth and continued to suck more and more of his long hard shaft in my mouth. As I pumped his cock in and out of my mouth he gave me direction. I pressed my lips against my teeth and pressed my mouth gently around his cock as I fucked his cock with my mouth. As I did, I got so excited that I felt a wild need to cum again. So I reached between my legs and started to rub my pussy with three fingers.

I moaned and as I sucked him and parted my thighs as I began to finger myself. He saw what I was doing and moved my fingers away and started to finger my pussy with his hand and fingers. "Oh FUCK Jeff… that feels so good. You have such a delicate touch!” I moaned between sucking his cock.

As I continued to suck his cock he was pushing more and more into my mouth. I now felt the tip of the cock head touch the back of my throat as my lips stretched around the fullness. He said, "Do you want to try and take it down your throat?"

As he fingered my pussy, I tried to take his cock head down my throat but choked too much and we stopped trying. I made a mental note to learn how to do that since it was something this wonderful gentle man seemed to like and wanted. He pulled it out all the way and told me, "Lick it right here."

He showed me that part of his shaft just under the mushroom head, on the underside of his cock that is the most sensitive. I did as he instructed and he then told me to feel his balls too. That they had to be handled gently but were a big part of his sex organ and should be sucked and licked too!

I had one hand holding his cock up towards the ceiling as I licked the underside of his cock and the one hand squeezed his balls lightly. I ran my hand up the shaft now and rubbed the pre cum dripping out the hole in the cock head over the tip and around the head. Then I licked the cock head.

He moaned and said, "Suck me Rachel! Fuck, you’re amazing. Harder suck it harder!"

As he held my head with both of his hands now he pushed my mouth down over his cock and I began sucking it again harder as he began to pump himself in and out of my mouth faster and faster. He continued pumping until he groaned "MMMM!! YES BABE! YES! OH FUCK!! SUCK IT! I'M GOING TO CUM! I'M GOING TO CUMMING! I'm GOING TO AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YES!!!!!!!"

I looked up into his eyes and could see the lust in them. He held my head and told me quickly as he pumped fast, "I'm going to cum in your mouth Rachel…”

“I want you to, Jeff,” I panted.

“Try and swallow it."

I nodded my head obediently with his cock still in my mouth getting thicker and harder. I continued to suck him and his moans were louder this time and I was sure he was nearing his own orgasm. I had never swallowed a guy's cum, or even let someone cum in my mouth for that matter, but I knew that I wanted to swallow his load. Just as I completed that thought I heard him groan. I felt his cock swell in my mouth, followed by hot jets of cum shooting out onto my tongue and into the back of my throat. The feeling was strange, but I found it quite easy to swallow his load. He continued to cum, so I kept swallowing every last drop that came out. As more and more cum filled my mouth I couldn't take it fast enough. His seed filled my mouth quicker than I could swallow. 

I pulled my lips off his fat cock head gasping for air. His hand covered my hand. He was jerking my hand up and down as fast as he could go. I squeezed his hard shaft as I pulled my mouth off his cock head! The last few shots of Jeff's cum splashed on my chest and ran down over my chin and tits toward my stomach.

I continued pumping his cock until the cum stopped. I lowered myself again to lick the tip clean, not enjoying the taste as much as I did before. I would have to acquire this new taste so I could take more and please him. But, I knew I would take his cum whenever he wanted me to suck him off.

Surprisingly, his cock didn't soften but seemed ready for more. Gently Jeff lay me back on the bed and spread my legs very wide again. "I will be as gentle as possible Rachel, but I need to be inside you…", he said as he began rubbing my clit and slit once more with his hard cock head. I knew this was it! This was when I would stop being a virgin! He was now going to fuck me… pop my cherry… take my virginity from me.

"Oh Jeff! I'm ready, I'm so wet… I’m so ready… you won't hurt me.”

He stopped.

“But it will hurt…”

“Please? Just fuck me!" I pleaded. I wanted it so bad and now I had the one man who I felt would take my cherry as gently as he could. As I spread my legs wide he held my legs wide with my knees bent. He told me to guide his cock into my pussy hole. I did. I moved his hard cock head to my opening and told him, "I need this… I need you… I give my virginity to you."

This was probably a very bad idea. He wasn’t even wearing a condom. I wrestled with that thought for about one second, then his cock settled between my legs, the length of his shaft pressing against my wet folds, his hands on my hips.

Oh fuck he felt good. So soft yet firm, so wide and warm. Ooh, my whole body tingled. Nothing else felt like this.

He groaned and rubbed his shaft on me, bathing his cock in my slick folds. "Oh fuck that feels good," he breathed.

"Mmmmph," I agreed. I should probably tell him to stop before this got any further, but maybe just a few more seconds.

Then the tip of his cock pressed at my entrance. I froze. He felt so big. My body vibrated with the need to feel him inside me, to swallow his cock into my depths, and feel him stroke my insides like he had been stroking my opening.

He had gone just as still. I heard him swallow right before he pushed.

His cock gently parted my lips and, with barely any resistance, began to slide into me.

My mind finally caught up with the situation. "Jeff, no! Stop!" I yelped even as my inner walls clenched around him. I tried to pull away, but his hands held my hips firmly in place.

He grunted but stopped with his cock just past my entrance. It felt amazing, so warm and big and hard. My body wanted more.

"S-sorry," he mumbled but didn't move.

I didn't want him to. Or rather, I wanted him to move in both directions at once, part of my mind screaming for him to get out and the other begging for him to plunge all the way in. Instead, I lay there, frozen in indecision.

He pushed again.

"No! Jeff! Please stop!" Just the tip was one thing, but if he buried himself inside me, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore.

He groaned and pulled back out, just resting the tip at my entrance again. "Sorry! You feel so good, so warm and tight. Sorry..."

I relaxed, my heart beating too fast. But it was ok, this was fine. He wasn't even inside me, just touching me.

After a few seconds, he swirled the bulbous tip around my slick folds, glided between my lips to my clit and back again. I moaned. He had felt so amazing inside me. Maybe... maybe just the tip was fine. It wasn't really fucking.

When his rounded head settled at my opening, I pushed, just a little. That bulbous head slowly stretched my outer folds until the tip was lodged just inside my wet walls. It felt amazing. The first cock inside me. A little thrill of pleasure rushed through me. It was just the tip, it barely counted, but still so good. I shuddered.

I mumbled, "J-just the tip, ok? No more. Ok? That's it. It feels good..."

He'd gone very still, as though he was surprised I'd say anything like that. I should be surprised too. I think somewhere, some tiny part of me was panicking, but I couldn't hear it.

He swallowed again and nodded jerkily. "O-ok. You feel good too."

His voice was strained. The slight danger that he might get carried away sent a jolt of warmth to my pussy, and I clamped down on him. My thighs quivered trying not to push again, to capture just one more inch.

No sex. Just the tip. No sex. Oh my God, but my body wanted all of it.

He groaned and nudged at my wet flesh, slipping an inch of his hard shaft into me.

"Ah! No!" I squealed but didn't move. He was panting into my hair, his body tense. He didn't move either.

"Jeff, just the tip!" I panted and bit my lip. I couldn't make myself pull away, my pussy clenching around him.

"Oh. Um. Nnh." He stopped but didn't move.

We held ourselves there, lust rolling over both of us, waiting for something to give. He didn't wait long, shifting as he oh-so-slowly withdrew his cock back to my entrance, then gently forced my lips to swallow that round tip again, savoring every moment.

"Jeff..." God, it felt good but I couldn't let him fuck me.

He groaned and stopped again. I could hear his deep breaths, feel how tightly his fingers were digging into my hips as he tried to hold back.

"Y-you should stop now," I mumbled. My pussy was squeezing him. Oh wow, it felt nice and big, stretching me so beautifully. I wanted more, I wanted to be filled up.

I'm not sure if he heard me. He was probably busy fighting his urge to ram his cock all the way in and give me a good, hard fucking.

I shivered at how wonderful that sounded.

My pussy kept pulsing on his shaft, trying to hold him in no matter how much I should be pushing him out. He could probably feel me throbbing around him.

He pulled out again and I sighed as he held still with just the bulbous tip kissing my pussy lips. He stayed there and panted for a minute.

I couldn't help myself. His round knob felt so good sitting there between my parted folds, so tempting. I wiggled a little, felt that large head pop in again. Just the tip. Oooh. I squeezed it, imagining it sliding in further and further. Oh...

He tensed. I was too busy concentrating on how good his cock felt inside me to realize that his hands on my hips had shifted, that the bed had moved as he repositioned, and now he was ready to piston into me. He held still as long as he could.

"It’s time, Rachel... I’m going to... put it all the way inside you now," he said as he shuffled away.

My lust-filled brain took a second to register what he said.

“I know how much this means to you…” he panted as he jerked himself back to full hardness while lustfully staring at my young body. “Turn around with your face down and your ass in the air”. I felt my pussy prepare itself as I assumed tis new position on the bed. I wanted this older man more than I wanted anything in my life. I would do anything he asked of me.

His hands followed the flowing curves of my ass, over my hips then up my waist to my breasts, hanging now from my chest, just brushing against the bed sheets, sending shivers down my spine. One hand explored my neck, my ear, my hair… while the other reached around to tweak and tease my hard nipples before moving down and carefully prising apart my smoothly waxed folds. One finger rested on my hard clit without moving, but he pulled it away after feeling how my pussy was dripping with wanton lust for him. 

He suddenly bent his knees upward and between mine, spreading my legs wide open around him. My breath caught in my chest as he slowly but surely edged forward until the large shiny head of his cock was pressed between my puffy pussy lips. Tiny movements rubbed the tip of his shaft against my clit and I moaned with frustration and desperate desire for my big strong boyfriend. When I made the sound his hand quickly covered my mouth and he stuffed three fingers in, pulling my jaw downward and making me pant as he realigned his hot thick cock with my vagina and slid forward to penetrate his gasping girlfriend deeply.

He rubbed the tip of his magnificent cock in my juices and then gently pushed the head between my swollen labia moving it past the inner lips and inside my hole. I watched as it inched its way into me. He stopped often to see if I was OK before going any further. As he met the barrier, he backed off and asked, "Ready?"

I moaned yes and he thrust forward and broke my cherry. I bit my lip as a sharp pain hit me followed by waves of unbelievable excitement. As I whimpered slightly he asked, "Are you OK Rachel?"

I said, "Yes… I want this… take me!"

He smiled and told me, "The worst is over Rachel. Now we can make love. Now I can show you what you have been missing all these years."

As he told me that, he had pushed all of his manhood deep inside me and held his cock almost completely still inside me. As he buried it all the way now I moaned from the thrill, which had taken over the little pain. Oh God he was all the way inside of me. I looked into his eyes and told him, "Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuck… oh you feel so good inside me."

Slowly but without pausing he pushed forward until the whole length of his organ was buried in my hot pussy, with my pink and swollen outer lips forced wide open and my tight little hole stretched obscenely around the base of his veiny shaft. I knew as he sank into me that he was forcing his penis up through the remnants of my hymen. He paused there, enjoying the erotic view and the physical sensations of his young girlfriend splayed open and stuffed full in front of him, his cock in her pussy and fingers in her mouth, as she groaned with pleasure at being taken like this.

After a delicious pause, I felt him slowly withdraw his cock from my pussy and the veins and ridges of his shaft massaged my inner walls. Just as I was about to whimper at the sudden empty feeling, he reversed the motion and sank back into my vaginal canal, which rippled around his shaft. He nuzzled his face in the back of my neck and kissed my back tenderly, but there was no let-up in his accelerating acquisition of my tight young pussy. My boyfriend held me tightly as he continued to enter me and then withdraw again, over and over, our sweaty skin making quiet noises as we rubbed together.

At its deepest point of penetration, his penis completely filled and stretched my young vagina and nudged against my cervix at the end. I had never had a lover before him but, as his large testicles pressed rhythmically against my most intimate skin, I counted myself very lucky to have found someone to be my first who had such a large and satisfying member.

With one hand I reached back to stroke his face and feel his soft hair as he continued to make me his own in the most natural and primal way. His movements were getting much faster and there was a growing urge deep in my belly as his veiny organ rubbed against the moist walls of my pussy. It felt so right to be cradled in his arms as he took possession of my body, and my arousal was dribbling down from our intertwined genitalia to moisten his testicles and my squeezable little arse cheeks.

He reached around and found my hard clitoris with two fingers, rolling it between them as he thrust his swollen organ into me and kissed my neck. I somehow knew this was a sign he was reaching his climax and he wanted me to cum before him. I pushed his hand away and arched my back as much as I could, which changed the angle of my pussy and allowed him more room to penetrate me with increasing speed and force. He grunted softly with each insertion and I mimicked his movements with my own arse in order to maximise the depth and force of his cock's invasion.

As I pushed my hips up to meet him he began to move his beautiful, lovely, sexy fantastic cock in and out of my vagina. Oh fuck everything he told me was true. It felt so wonderful. Much better than masturbation ever did. Much better than oral sex did too. This is what my pussy was designed for; to take a man's cock then take possession of a man's precious seed. As he pumped away I rocked my hips trying to match his movements and give him the same feeling! Oh fuck. So this was what fucking was, pure rapture, pure passion and pure lust! I felt the need to rock my body and fuck him as hard as he was fucking me. MY need and lust had never been higher. I screamed. "OH fuck yes Jeff fuck me faster! Harder fuck me harder!"

Soon I was completely filled with his cock every two seconds he would slam it into me again, and again and again as my juices flowed and it became easier for him to pump and pump in and out of me. I arched my back and lifted my hips as he pumped into me. I wrapped my legs around him and squeezed his body as my pussy squeezed his shaft internally. As I rocked my hips in time with his thrusts, we both began moving closer and closer towards an orgasm.

Oh Fuck, how I enjoyed the feeling of my first cock, his cock, so hard, so long and so dam thick inside of me. When I felt another orgasm approaching I screamed out with my joy and arched my ass up as hard as I could. I used my hips to rotate on his cock as the muscles of my pussy automatically clenched around his shaft milking it. My orgasm had taken control of my body and was fucking him hard and fast!

I squealed with overwhelming pleasure and shut my eyes as my vaginal canal clenched and squeezed around my boyfriend's thick penis and an orgasm spread from my genitals throughout my tingling body. The pleasure inundated my whole body and I wriggled and shivered in his arms as he brought me to climax and held me tight in his arms the whole time.

After a few more thrusts, Jeff was on the brink of orgasm and I grasped his hand tightly against my soft flesh, opening my legs and pushing my ass into the air to allow the deepest penetration of my pussy so far. After two more movements of his hips, Jeff grabbed my waist and pressed down, impaling me onto his throbbing organ as he began to ejaculate powerfully into the depths of my vaginal canal.

He moaned in relief as his semen spurted into my pussy, streaming into my deepest parts and filling me up, marking me as his willing and grateful partner. Jeff’s member kept on pulsing out thick creamy cum and his hands made marks in the soft skin of my thighs as he continued to press me down onto him so that every drop of semen was propelled into my eager young pussy. Will ejaculated such a volume of semen that it completely flooded my vagina and started to leak out around the root of his thick cock, mixing with the sweat and my own sexual fluids on my smooth bald pussy lips. I sighed in ecstasy as my pussy brimmed with the frothy ejaculate of my muscular boyfriend and I relaxed against his chest.

Jeff repeated my name, over and over again, like a ritualistic chant. It sounded so sexy. I could feel his warm thick cum fill me and overflow as he pumped himself gently in and out of me. I cried out my lover's name in reply as we slammed our bodies together again and again and again as the sexal bliss took me to a place of warmth and wonder. We held our bodies tight against each other as we rocked together finishing cumming. Jeff slumped on top  of me, still pressing his penis down to the very bottom of my vagina, seemingly satisfied with the generous load he had pumped into my tight young body. 

Finally, our joint climaxes began to drift away. We held each other for a very long time in the afterglow of our union…my first time. Being taken sexually for the first time by my powerful mate had made me unbelievably sexually aroused and even more completely in love with him. I could not wait to explore this new dominant side of my boyfriend's personality and hoped he would exercise his physical superiority over me again and again.

Later after taking a shower and holding each other close we finally got around to eating that dinner we took home. He made me sit with him nude and I didn't care at all now that he could see my tits or pussy. I would have bent over and showed him my tiny little ass hole if he would have asked me! I was truly his to do with as he felt. I would do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. This was the beginning of a mutually satisfying sex life for one young woman who was previously pure and completely inexperienced. It was this older man who had shown her the way. I knew he wanted more of me and I certainly wanted all of him.

#lovers #fucking #rachel #her pov #unprotected sex #her perspective #her point of view #first time #Rachel's Cherry #losing virginity #Popped cherry

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself. 

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly. 

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead. 

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.” 

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.” 

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper. 

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap. 

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach. 

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice. 

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical. 

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him. 

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him. 

Your frown deepens. “What is?” 

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent. 

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.  

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face… 

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?” 

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!” 

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other. 

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve. 

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.” 

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn. 

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.” 

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath. 

“Nervous, love?” 

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze. 

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it. 

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.” 

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far. 

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this. 

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?” 

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?” 

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.” 

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes. 

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing. 

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in. 

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair. 

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again. 

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.” 

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive. 

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”  

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”  

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features. 

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.” 

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do. 

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful. 

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs. 

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again? 

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact. 

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

��Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.” 

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight. 

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?” 

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest. 

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow. 

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason. 

You’re not his keeper, after all. 

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion baldur's gate #astarion romance #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #pale elf #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #emicha writes #long post for these long nights #wilteddreamsbg3

[malfoyswand]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

summary: draco malfoy offers to help you study for an upcoming exam in potions class. a turn of events leads to both of you opening up to each other in unexpected ways.

word count: 2.3k

genre: fluff, a little bit of angst

warnings: n/a

author's note: my first fic here, i'm so excited! please let me know if there's anything you think i could have done better and of course, my writing requests are open :)

You sigh softly as you look down at the textbook in your hands, putting it into your bag as an act of defeat. You weren't sure exactly why you felt so embarrassed when, really, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. The logical side of your brain knew that.

Potions was never your strong suit. Sure, other classes were just as hard but you've always managed to work through it. But Potions? No matter how many hours you put into studying, you are barely passing.

Today's class was a monstrosity. Professor Snape called you in front of the entire class about a question you had no clue what the answer was. Truthfully, it was as if the question was in a foreign language, that's how difficult his class was. You tried to think of a good guess, but all that could come out were the words, "I'm sorry, Professor. I don't know."

Professor Snape wasn't impressed. He knew that you were smarter than this, and he found it lazy when students would say "I don't know" to any question. Your lack of knowledge had the consequence of him deducting 5 points from your house. You're convinced the entire house now hates you.

You shake your head slightly, trying to get out of your own thoughts. You know you're overacting, it's just 5 points. If anything, the only real damage done was to your pride. Everyone else made their way to the door, but as you stood and followed them, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"(Y/N), wait."

Draco Malfoy. You would know that voice anywhere, the whole school would. His reputation certainly precedes him, without any further explanation needed.

What surprised you was that he was even talking directly to you. You didn't hate him, but you didn't necessarily like him either. You both arrived at Hogwarts at the same time, yet barely spoke more than ten words to each other all these years. 

You turned around to face him, your eyes scanning his face. His eyes were widened, as if he was trying to focus intently on something.

"Yes?" You hear yourself speak softly.

"I noticed that Professor Snape was a bit hard on you today. He's a good professor, but all of this year he's been very harsh." He chuckled slightly at his own joke.

What exactly was Malfoy trying to say? Did he come up to you just to tell a joke?

The look of confusion must have been apparent on your face. "Anyway, Professor Snape noticed that you were upset after he deducted those points. Like I said, he's harsh, but he wants his students to succeed. He's asked me to help you. How about we study together for the exam next week?"

Ah, that's why he's talking to you. Professor Snape asked him. Why would someone like Malfoy want to talk to someone like you, if he wasn't forced to?

"Oh," you nodded. "Yeah, alright. Thank you. How about we meet after dinner in the library?"

The thought of studying with Draco Malfoy was something you didn't know excited you or filled you with dread. But whether you liked it or not, he was arguably the smartest Slytherin student, especially in Potions. You knew you needed to pass this class.

"No, that won't work." Draco shook his head. "I do my best studying somewhere quiet, and the library is a bit crowded after dinner. It wouldn't be very effective. How about we go now? I know you're in my Herbology class next period and, no offense, I'd rather skip it anyway."

Of course, he demanded to study now. You peek your head out of the small window in the door, seeing how the corridor was completely empty. By now, it's likely Herbology has already started. There was no point in attending class now.

You turned back to look at him, nodding. He led the way out of the classroom and to the library. You were surprised he even went into the library, with the reputation he had.

Let's just say that Malfoy was popular with the ladies. He was known to have had a few girlfriends by now. Every time he and his girlfriend would break up, he would soothe his heartache by starting an intimate relationship with another girl. But as far as you know, those were just rumors. If they were true, he was smart in not getting caught in the act by a professor.

He led you through endless aisles of bookshelves, until the very last one. He set his bag and books on one of the tables, sitting down and opening his Potions textbook.

With a moment to breathe, you had the opportunity to take a proper look at him. You could see now why it seemed like every girl was in love with him. His blond hair was smoothly laid back, his eyes seemed to be able to stare into the depths of your soul without any effort. Not to mention, he had a charm about him. 

"(Y/N)." You were taken out of the trance by his voice calling your name. "You like what you see then?" His lips were turned upwards into a slight smirk. Your eyes stared at them for a moment, before looking down in embarrassment.

Of course, he thought you were staring out of adoration. He acts like he's some sort of Greek god or something! Sure, he's attractive, but was that his only redeeming quality? You could feel your cheeks glowing red. 

Alright, fine, you were admiring him. In your defense, you were trying to remember the moment. It's not often that a girl at Hogwarts can say they had a private study session with Draco Malfoy.

"Wait, no, I'm sorry." He adjusted his chair to sit closer to yours. He looked at you until your eyes met his, the blush still burning on your cheeks. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Your voice spoke out, your eyebrow raised. He truly didn't offend you. If anything, you were sorry that you were caught staring at him openly.

"Because I'm trying to become better." That was all Malfoy said before he broke eye contact to stare at the pages of his textbook, telling you to turn to the correct page to begin studying. You got the sense that he didn't want to explain any further what he meant. 

While the blond haired Slytherin tried to attempt explaining the foundations of Potions to you, all you could think about was what he said. What did he mean by trying to become better? You assume he meant to become a better person.

As far as you knew, he wasn't a bad person. Yes, he was known to pick on the first-years, especially the Gryffindor house. But most Slytherins did the same, especially the ones that come from wealthy families like he does. If anything, his behavior was more than expected. That doesn't mean it was right, but you always thought he just didn't know any other way to behave. You had always assumed his parents taught him he was better than anyone else in the school.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his voice asking you questions about the material. It was strange, but Malfoy was quite a good teacher. You could understand the material in a way you couldn't if you were only taught by Professor Snape. Malfoy explained Potions with passion, as if he couldn't stop talking about how fascinated he was about it.

This wasn't the Draco Malfoy you thought he was. You expected him to be an arrogant prick who would tease you if you got a question wrong. Instead, looking at him now, you saw just a boy who wanted someone to listen to him, even just about Potions.

"Draco." Before you could process what you were going to say, it was already coming out. "What did you mean by trying to become better? You said that earlier."

Your question must have shocked him, as he stopped reading and looked up at you. He bit down on his bottom lip, he must have been thinking what the appropriate response was. With a sigh, he leaned back on his chair and looked down at his hands that were folded before him.

"Well, you've caught me. Professor Snape didn't ask me to help tutor you, it was my idea. What I meant was I'm trying to be a better person. I know I've been a prick to most of this school, but this summer was a real eye opener. I thought I would start by doing an act of kindness, like tutoring someone." Before he could stop, his chest was rising and falling as he spoke quickly. "It's my family. They are a part of something that I'm not sure is right, and they want me to join soon. I don't think I have a choice, (Y/N). And I want-"

By this point, the words were spilling out of him. Truthfully, he looked a little insane. Here was this boy who, moments ago, was worried about explaining Potions to you. Now, he was opening up about something you did not expect. Malfoy was always the calm, collected one in your year.

How long has he been holding this in? So long that he was willing to say this to a practical stranger?

"Woah, Malfoy." You took a breath and placed your hand on his. You were positive he would make fun of you for that later, but his hands were shaking. "I don't know what's going on, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Do you want to stop studying for now? We can pick up another time."

All he could do was nod, beginning to pack up his bag. You took another good look at him, before taking your hand away and packing your own bag. This was the strangest study session you've ever been involved with.

"I-I'm sorry." He suddenly blurted out before you stood from your chair. His hand was in yours again, stopping you in your tracks. "I'm sorry if I scared you off like that. I didn't mean to say all of that stuff, about my family. That's too much to expect you to listen to."

"No, it's okay." It was a little weird, but you sensed he needed someone to talk to. If you were going to spend all this time together studying, you might as well become friendly. "You can talk to me about it whenever."

Malfoy stared at you for a moment, his eyes going from your lips back to your eyes. Without any warning, his hand left yours and he leaned in towards you. His lips gently touched yours. 

What the hell?

Now that you were this close to him, you could feel how soft his lips were. His cologne even smelled extravagant, something you knew you couldn't afford in your wildest dreams. This was going to be something to tell your friends about later. You're sure none of your friends will believe you when you tell them that the Draco Malfoy kissed you.

He pulled away all too soon, looking down nervously. You failed to notice, but one of his hands was cupping your cheek. You could feel the rings on his fingers gently graze your skin. You both were breathless, but you managed to say one thing to him.

"I don't know what just happened. But I want to make one thing clear, I don't want to be another one of your girls."

"One of my girls?" His eyebrow raised, a look of confusion painted on that face of his. Oh Merlin, did you mess it up badly now? It was too late, you had to explain yourself.

"There are rumors that you've.. messed around with girls before. I just want to make myself clear that I refuse to be one of them. I won't let myself be something you can just play with when you're bored. I really appreciate all the help you've given me, but if you think that something else is going to happen, you're wrong!"

You didn't mean to sound so harsh, but you knew then that you were. But it was true. Malfoy was incredibly handsome and the kiss took your breath away, but you wouldn't let yourself be used like that. You stood from your seat, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"No, no, no! (Y/N), that's not it." Draco Malfoy stood, standing in front of you. "Alright, there's some truth to that. I've made mistakes and probably been with girls I shouldn't have, but this year is different. Like I said, I'm trying to be better. Just listen to me."

You sighed softly and crossed your arms, but stood there and listened. You weren't angry per se, but confused. Did Malfoy ask you to study just to mess with you? Did all that stuff he said before was made up to manipulate you?

"Thank you." He sighed slightly, relaxed that you were now listening. "I know what you're thinking, that I offered to help you to get in your pants or something. That's something I would've done last year, but not now. The truth is.." He stopped, looking down at his feet.

"Yes?"

"I like you, (Y/N). Since the school year started. I don't mean in a perverted way, I mean in a delicate way. I offered to help you to get to know you better. I stopped messing around when I started to like you, I knew it wasn’t worth it.”

A part of you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Were you dreaming of this? Why would Draco Malfoy like you, when you had nothing to offer him? Your feet were planted firmly on the hardwood floor, with your mouth slightly open. After a few moments, you felt your eyes blink as you came back to reality. 

Draco Malfoy likes you. You weren't sure if you felt the exact same, but the gut in your stomach was telling you this was right. The world seemed to have stopped when he kissed you, a feeling you have never felt before. This feeling couldn't be wrong.

Without another word, you stepped forward to break the space between you and kissed his lips. You couldn't help but feel a laugh escape as he pulled you closer.

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco fluff #draco angst

[love-and-monsters]

The Fallen Angel

GN human X nonbinary angel (uses they/its pronouns), 15,020 words.

(Apologies for how long I've been away, a lot has been happening. But here is the story at long last! At very long last. I have written, unfortunately, a fucking novella. Please let me know what you think, I put my heart into this bitch.)

There is an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You are determined to free it.

There was an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You could hear it singing when you cleaned the great brass candles and the stained glass windows. It sang during the services, too, but the song just reverberated behind the choir or the preaching, too subtle to be truly noticed. It was only in the afternoons, when the sunlight sent a colored glow across the floor and your body sweated and shook with fatigue, that the song grew strong enough for you to really hear what it was.

Angel song is not like birdsong, nor it is it like the song of a person. It is almost like the sound of a choir, if the choir was like a pipe organ or the wind passing through a cave. The noise settled in your bones and lungs. Sometimes, you felt yourself humming along, like just the presence of the sound was forcing the notes from your body.

You cleaned the church every three days, more or less- you didn’t clean at all on Sundays, but you did attend. So did the rest of the town. Had it gotten more crowded since the song started? Maybe- the church’s attendance was already high, and the faith strong. The angel would not have come otherwise.

You knew that the angel was trapped. You weren’t a fool- the basement door was chained and sealed, and the singing was louder the closer you get. No free angel would suffer being locked away like this. And then there was its singing. Usually, it just made your bone tremble and compelled you to sing along with it. On Sundays, its song amplified the worship, making your brain tingle with the divine. But sometimes, more frequently these days, the song struck you with such profound sadness, that you found yourself on your knees, face wet with tears.

It was over a month of the singing and the knowledge that something divine rested beneath your feet before you considered doing something about it.

In fairness: you were not qualified to interact with an angel, much less rescue one. You were not a priest, not a spiritual practitioner. A priest was technically your boss, though you cleaned more buildings in town than the church. If he had trapped the angel, there must be a reason.

But the angel’s song grew more sorrowed and more desperate, until you woke at night, nowhere near the angel’s song, with a hum vibrating in your chest and tears on your cheeks. And you came to the conclusion that, no matter what reason the priest has, the angel did not deserve this.

So you called a spiritual practitioner. As much as you may have wanted to help, you had no idea how. Better to leave such things to professionals.

You had hoped the practitioner would arrive at the church, sense the angel immediately, and free them. But there wass no fuss from the church, and no angel emerged. The practitioner left town before the sun set that day.

Three more practitioners and a priest entered the town over the next two weeks. None of them freed the angel. Your bewilderment grew with each failure. Were they not noticing it? Were they being turned away? Bribed?

The sixth person, a priest, was the one you followed. You tailed him to the church, and continued following him twenty minutes later, when he emerged. Once he had made it past the edges of the town, you ambushed him.

It wasn’t much of an ambush, really. You just stepped out onto the path in front of him and demanded he tell you what was going on. He was clearly weirded out, but once you said that you were the person who called him, he was a bit more willing to talk.

You asked him why he didn’t do anything to free the angel. He stareed at you, eyes wide. Then he spoke, quiet and almost frightened. “What that thing is should not be freed. It is best for everyone if it stays down there.”

Once he told you that, he dismissed himself, and hurried away. You stared after him. Then you returned home.

The creature in the basement could not be anything but an angel. It could have been one of the infernal, but the infernal don’t sing. Scream and howl and beg, but they do not sing. And no infernal creature would sit through the services that come every Sunday. People would avoid the church, rather than flocking to it in droves. And yet, if the priest had seen an angel, you found it hard to believe he wouldn’t have tried to release it. He certainly wouldn’t have told you it was a thing.

The next time you went to the church, the singing was low and tremulous. It reminded you of someone trying to sing through tears. Again and again, you found yourself at the basement door. When you placed your hand on it, the dark metal was warm, like it had been resting under a sunbeam.

You could not bring yourself to leave, even an hour after your work was done. The sadness of the song radiated around you and ever since you spoke to the priest, you were terribly curious. Perhaps that was a cruel thing, to be just as compelled by curiosity as compassion. But you were. If it had been just compassion, maybe you could have stood aside and let someone else do it. But it was curiosity as well, and you needed to do it yourself because you needed to know.

While you had access to most of the keys in your line of work, you didn’t have access to the ones that unlocked the chains and the door. Even after some snooping, you couldn’t find them, so you resorted to attempting to pick the locks. It was something you learned in your youth, mostly since you could never keep track of your house keys. The padlock was easy enough to undo. The door took more time, but still under five minutes.

The door itself was more of a barrier than the locks were. It was heavy enough that you wondered if it was even designed for only one person to open. But with enough effort, you managed to open it enough for you to squeeze through.

It wasn’t dark. Or, rather, it was dark, but it wasn’t as dark as it should have been. There were no windows in the basement and you had no light, so you shouldn’t have been able to see anything. Certainly not the gentle glow of what looked like sunlight at the bottom of the cool stone steps in front of you.

It wasn’t cold, either, you reflected as you headed down the steps. It should have been, if not dank, at least a little chilly. But the light was as warm as a sunbeam. You headed toward it, keeping your steps as light as possible. Surely whatever was down here had heard the door open and knew someone was approaching, but you tried to keep as quiet as possible regardless. It made you feel better.

The stairs ended at a doorway that opened into a room. It was clearly intended for storage of some kind, as most basements are. And it was still storing something. Because most of the room was occupied by a-

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? What was that? Your first instinct was person, but people are not usually so large that, even on their knees, they cannot straighten their back without hitting their head on the ceiling. Their body filled most of the room. You could sit in their hand. And, of course, they were the source of the light. You couldn’t look at their center, since it was so bright as to be blinding, but even their extremities glowed like lamps. You had to tilt you head back to look into their face and you saw… nothing. Their head was human-shaped, but they had no hair, no face. It was almost frightening, the blankness there, but your attention was drawn to something else only a moment later.

Angels have halos. This one was no exception. A golden ring, elaborate in design, hovered behind their head. But it was not a simple, clean circle. It was broken. The metal was (or something that looked like metal) twisted and splintered and dented. The entire thing was rent apart, golden liquid spilling from the broken bits. It looked like something grabbed it and twisted until the halo split.

The song radiated through you then. And, for the first time, it occurred to you that this was not song. It just sounded like it. The angel was crying.

Everyone heard tales of fallen angels. Cast out for crimes or sin, sent to Earth. Crying to return. They were creatures to fear. An angel is dangerous. An angel that has been sent away and maddened with grief and loss is only more so.

You moved toward them, trying to see where they were chained to the wall. Your body moved almost on its own, and you wondered if the song was somehow compelling you to do so. It didn’t matter, though. You’d be doing this anyway.

There weren’t chains holding it in place. That was actually a relief. They would have been huge and you weren’t sure how to handle chains you couldn’t move. Instead, the angel seemed to be held in place by writings across the ground, walls, and ceiling. From a distance, they looked like just worn stone, but up close, you could see the writing. It took you some time to figure out what they were. Bible verses, in Latin and English. They seemed completely random. You assumed they were holding the angel here, since you couldn’t find anything else that seemed to be doing so. But this wass all over your head. Presumably there was a way to undo this, but you didn’t know what. It would be weeks of work to destroy all the writing here.

After taking some time to despair and scream in frustration, you went over to a wall and, by the light of the angel, started to read. It was a bit difficult, since there was no way to read without the angel being behind you, and your shadow appearing on the wall, but if you angled your head, you could make out the words.

Some of the verses were familiar to you. A few of them were about angels. Some of them were about God’s power or smiting the unjust. Some of them seemed completely unrelated. Maybe there was a reason that you just weren’t getting. But as you continued, you noted a pattern. They repeated.

It was a hard repeat to catch- there wasn’t a set pattern where it was the same order every repeat. But after going back and forth and squinting in the low light for long enough that you developed quite the headache, you found that the phrases were repeating. Every verse was repeated once per repeated section. A vague idea came to your head. It wasn’t a plan you were sure would work, but it was the only idea you had.

You slipped back upstairs and rummaged in the tool closet. Normally, you only bothered with the cleaning supplies, but there were hammers and nails there, for general repairs. You took a hammer and a screwdriver and brought them back down to the basement.

At the beginning of each repeat, you took the screwdriver and, using it as almost a makeshift chisel, hammered it into the wall until the rock chipped away. The words weren’t carved very deeply, so it wasn’t terribly hard to flake them off. Well, it wasn’t hard relatively speaking. It was still hard work to chisel anything at all, and your arms were trembling and aching in short order.

It was slow going. Fortunately, the repeats were long, so you didn’t need to chisel all that often, but it was hard to find the proper start, and there was a lot of small writing. Your back ached from stooping to get the stuff on the floor.

You had the inclination that you were doing something right, though. The angel had nearly ignored you before, as you’d walked around its cage. But now, as you chiseled at the walks, it turned its head toward you, face still blank, though you could tell it was watching. Maybe it was just curious, but you thought maybe it could sense something changing.

About midway through your second wall, the air started to take on a different… feel. Like it was getting thicker, almost humid, with a smell like before a storm. You took more breaks, almost dropping your hammer and chisel a few times. Your fingers weakened. You started smashing randomly with the hammer, though it didn’t seem to have a great effect. The angel watched, or did something similar, with its massive, blank face.

By the third wall, the feeling was suffocating. Whether it was from the unbinding of the angel itself, or the bindings themselves trying to fight back, it was impossible to say. You just staggered from one repeat to the next, barely able to stand. How were you going to get the writing on the ceiling? You couldn’t risk stopping and returning, in case someone discovered your work the next day, but you also could not risk getting up on a ladder- not when it felt like the floor was shifting and bucking under your feet.

Please, you thought as you brought your hammer down onto your makeshift chisel. Please be enough. Please be the last. You weren’t sure who you were begging to, pleading to, but as you brought your hammer down one last time-

Light. There was light and then there was nothing. You were on your back on the ground, though it didn’t hurt. Which was strange. If you’d fallen over, you expected your head to hurt where it had hit the ground. You blinked a couple times. The room was less bright than it had been. There were a few scraps of light that seemed to be drifting about like floating candle flames, but they were fading and taking the light with them.

You rolled over and looked toward the angel. It was no longer there. Or, to be more specific, the enormous, glowing, faceless creature was gone. Sitting in the center of the room, blinking in apparent confusion was… a person.

No, the person was the angel. You were sure of it, since the person had wings. Large, powerful-looking wings with scruffy brown feathers. Little wings of a lighter color were set where their ears should be. But they also did not look like the images of angels you’d seen in books or in stained glass. Those angels were always inhuman looking, with perfect, sculpted bodies and porcelain skin. This angel was a little pudgy, with little pockmarks and imperfections in its skin. Its feathers were ruffled and sticking out, and its long hair was ruffled. It blinked at you with drooping, tired-looking eyes.

“Ah…” Looking at the angel, you realized you hadn’t paused to come up with an exit plan for once the angel was free. You’d been more focused on just breaking the cage. There had been some vague idea in the back of your head, of the angel realizing it was free and busting its way out of the church through the ceiling. Though perhaps it was good that hadn’t ended up happening, since that would probably leave you crushed by rubble. You certainly hadn’t expected the angel to suddenly poof down into a nearly human form.

They seemed confused. They swayed in place, staring around the room like they’d never seen it before. Or, never seen it from that angle before, at least. They shifted their wings a couple times, stretching them out only the tiniest amount before trying to get to their feet. Despite looking rather unsteady, they stood with only a little stumbling and stayed on their feet. They glanced around the room one more time, then looked back at you.

They were tall. Bigger than most people you’d seen. And their wings only added to their bulk. They would have cut an intimidating figure, if it wasn’t for the out-of-it look on their face.

This was a new problem. You’d figured the angel would be out of your hair once you freed it. But this angel looked rather helpless. You got the impression that, if you left it there, it would stand there until the priests came back in the morning and locked it away again. Or killed it. It looked more killable in this form.

Leaving it was considered and discarded. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave them here if they could remember your face and maybe reveal your identity if asked. And even if they couldn’t, you’d already put so much effort into freeing them. It seemed like a waste to ditch them at the last moment.

Not to mention, the idea of leaving them standing there, shivering slightly in the chill of the basement and blinking at you with confused, doe-like eyes made your chest ache.

You approached the angel. It locked its eyes on you, watching as you came closer. Not necessarily cautious- more like curious as to what you were going to do next. You reached out a cautious hand and took the angel’s.

They jolted, sucking in a breath the second your fingers came in contact. You froze. All of their feathers bristled and they seemed to shudder. For a moment, you thought you could faintly hear their song, but it faded so quickly that it may have been your imagination.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, the same tone you used to coax the church cats out of hiding places. “We need to go, though.” You tugged on their arm. Despite their size, they moved easily. You lead them up the stairs and into the church proper.

They followed you to the back door of the church. It was late, and the place was deserted, which was a relief. The angel was both winged and very naked, which would be hard to explain to anyone.

Getting them to your house was tense. The angel was conspicuous, so you had to avoid areas with people. Fortunately, it was late, so the cover of night and the lack of people on the street was enormously helpful. The angel was also quite easy to tug along, despite their size. You made it to the backdoor of your home with no real struggle, though you came very close to shoving the angel into a bush when a person stumbled across your path in your neighborhood. To your relief, they were very drunk and they seemed to barely notice your presence.

The moment you were within your house, you collapsed. The angel shuffled next to you, flexing their wings and glancing around. They didn’t seem anything more than mildly interested in their surroundings. After a moment, they sat down next to you.

You could have stayed on the ground all night, but after thirty minutes, you decided that it probably wasn’t good to your guest to let them stay on the ground all night. It was late and you could decide what to do with them in the morning, but now, you were both going to get some rest.

“Come on,” you grumbled, tugging at their arm. The angel allowed itself to be led into your small bedroom, where you encountered your first problem. The bed was not sized for an angel. Again, it was a normal bed. Not an unusually small one. But the angel was, at minimum, six and a half feet tall and carrying a set of bulky wings. Perhaps, if you shuffled some furniture around, you could have made it work, but it was very late and you were very tired. So you tugged all the bedsheets you had into the room and dumped them on the floor. The angel watched you the entire time, completely impassive.

Once you were done, you had to drag the angel over and push them into the makeshift bed. They blinked up at you from the pile. “Lie down,” you said, pushing on their shoulders. They allowed it, bowing under your touch with as much compliance as ever. “Go to sleep.”

You didn’t wait to see if they followed that order. Instead, you stumbled to your own bed, tugged the blanket you had over yourself, and closed your eyes.

Morning came entirely too early. Even when you were bone tired, your body clock woke you up at the same time every day. It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours of sleep, and probably less. You blinked tiredly for like thirty seconds before rolling over and catching sight of the angel.

It was still laying down in the pile of blankets. Its eyes were on you, blinking heavily every so often. You stared back at it. “I suppose you’re going to be here for a while,” you said. The angel just stared.

With little else to do, you got out of bed and headed into the kitchen. Your head ached, probably from lack of sleep, and also stress. It had been easy to not think about the consequences when you were freeing the angel, but now, well. The priest was going to want to know where his angel went, and you had a winged person in your house, as well as being the last person in the church that night. It wouldn’t be hard to put the pieces together.

You got into the kitchen and became aware of a second set of footsteps trailing after yours. You stopped and the footsteps behind you stopped as well. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it- the angel was following you. They gazed back at you as you stared at them. They were swaying a little on their feet, wings twitching like that helped them stay upright.

“I suppose you want breakfast,” you said. The angel blinked. It was the only acknowledgement they gave you. “Well, I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t feed you, I guess.”

At your instruction (physical instruction- it was easier to move the angel around than it was to try and give them verbal commands) the angel sat down at your tiny table. There wasn’t much room for more than one person, but you could make it work. Breakfast was never a particularly impressive affair for you, but if you had an angel over, you decided to go through the effort of actually heating up some biscuits and cooking some eggs and even a couple thin strips of bacon.

You set the plate in front of the angel. They stared down at the meal. Their gaze wasn’t necessarily dismissive. It just also reminded you of a dog examining a new object. Not a person getting a good meal.

“Do you know how to eat?” you asked after a few moments. If it had just become a mortal, than perhaps it wasn’t sure precisely how eating worked? You demonstrated a few times, slicing a sliver off your egg and placing it in your mouth before chewing with exaggerated deliberateness. The angel took it in, but still made no moves on its own breakfast. “Do you need help?” you asked, a bit irritated. You sawed off a piece of biscuit, dipped it in the egg and speared a little bit of bacon before holding it to the angel’s mouth. It recoiled when the fork nearly touched its lips.

A few more attempts at convincing it to eat were unsuccessful and you backed off, confused. Perhaps the angel didn’t need to eat after all, or wasn’t able. You had no idea what angels needed.

Now that you had eaten, you were starting to feel more ready to tackle the current issues. You had work. Not at the church, thankfully, but you still needed to leave. And as reluctant as you were to leave the angel alone in your house, you couldn’t think of anything else to do. Staying home would be incredibly suspicious. You needed to make it look like everything was normal.

As exhausted as you were, you dragged your clothes on and gathered your supplies. The angel watched you. They were still completely naked, though you were getting used to it at this point. “Are you going to put some clothes on?” you asked. The angel stared. “Never mind.” It wasn’t like it was going to fit in any of your clothes. It was too tall. “I’m going to be leaving for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right? Stay here. Don’t go outside.” You felt a little bad, telling the angel that had spent the past however long trapped in a single room that it couldn’t go outside, but that was a bad idea. Maybe later, you could bring them outside.

“Stay here,” you said, feeling a little like you were talking to a dog. The angel just stared at you. “I’m trusting you.”             You left your home and took a few paces down the street, glancing over your shoulder all the while. The door didn’t open again, and you kept looking until your house had vanished around a corner, and even a little after that.

To your immense relief, the angel never followed. That didn’t stop you from being jumpy as you cleaned, though. Every time a person approached you, there was a moment of panic, either that someone had found a strange, winged person wandering the street or that the priests at the church were going to drag you in for questioning. But neither ever happened. You managed to finish up early (by cutting a few corners) and hurried home.

The angel was… exactly where you left them. Literally. Exact same spot. Had it even moved all day? It did look a little worse for wear- a little weaker, maybe, with dark patches coming in under its eyes and a definite sway when it tried to sit up straight. As soon as it saw you, it makes an attempt to surge to its feet- and fumbled, nearly landing straight on its face.

“Woah, hey there,” you said as the angel flailed on the ground, wings flapping like a startled duck. “You, uh. You doing all right?”             The angel managed to push itself upright and blinked blearily at you. The swaying was still there, giving the alarming impression that they were a moment from falling again and only just barely preventing themself from doing so.

Perfect. You not only had an angel bunking with you, you had an angel bunking with you and there was something wrong with them. That could only end badly. “Okay, I’m going to need you to work with me here,” you said. The angel was, again, rather compliant as you tugged them into the kitchen and got them to sit at the table. They seemed to be shivering, so… fire in the stove? You grabbed a few blankets and placed them around the angel’s shoulders as well, until the angel was sufficiently covered. The angel’s shivering slowed and it seemed almost perplexed by that development.

“That’s better,” you said. “Are you feeling okay now?”             The angel wobbled a little bit and they blinked at you. They didn’t seem to nod or shake their head at all, or communicate in any way other than staring. Which meant it was hard to figure out what they wanted. Or if they wanted anything at all.

After staring at the angel for a little while longer, just to convince yourself that they weren’t about to keel over, you went to the stove and heated up your dinner. It was just some bread and a very simple chunk of salted meat with a couple of vegetables. The angel watched you, though they still swayed like they were on a ship instead of steady ground.

You returned to the table, carrying your plate, and the angel’s eyes remained locked on you. No, not you, you realized as you got closer. Their gaze was locked on your plate. As you wanted, the angel’s mouth opened, ever so slightly, and a bead of drool actually welled up on their lips. As you set the plate on the table, the angel made a strange noise. You hadn’t been expecting it at all, so it took you a moment to realize it was the angel’s stomach growling.

“Are you hungry?” you asked. The angel stared back at you. After a moment, you pushed the plate of food toward the angel. Their eyes remained on it, but they didn’t make any move to eat. Not even when you took a fork and offered them a bite.

There was a bewildered moment, where you weren’t sure what was going on. Then it clicked in your head: the angel was hungry. They also had no idea what to do with it.

The angel was mortal now. Whatever had happened, when you broke its cage, it had become mortal. But it had never been mortal before. How was it supposed to know anything? How would someone know the pain in your stomach meant hunger if they’d never felt it before? How would they know the heaviness their limbs and strange inability to keep their eyes open would be cured by sleep, or their shivering meant they needed to sit near a fire with blankets?

The angel was a mortal, but it was a very new mortal, and it needed to learn all the other things mortals understood just by being alive.

You scooted closer to the angel and picked up the fork again. This time, you took a bite, making sure the angel watched the food travel into your mouth and you chewing and swallowing. Then, you moved the fork right up to the angel’s lips. “You’re hungry. This will help. You need to eat,” you said, not totally sure if the angel was understanding you. The angel blinked once, twice, then tentatively opened its mouth and allowed you to place the food inside.

The angel, with a sort of bewildered slowness, closed their mouth and chewed. It looked like clumsy chewing, but they picked up on it pretty quickly, their brow furrowed with focus. Then they tried to swallow and instantly choked.

You had a real, legitimate panic about having an angel choke to death at your table for nearly a full twenty seconds before the angel got their breathing under control again. You made them drink water, which went much smoother- maybe you should have started there- and cleaned up. The angel had recovered enough to watch you as you did so, drinking in every motion you made. Maybe it would have been a little creepy, if the angel hadn’t felt so genuinely curious about what you were doing.

When you returned the food to it, the angel ate more carefully, if still with enthusiasm. You’d realized, by that point, that the angel didn’t understand the concept of being too full, so while that would eventually need to be a learning experience, you just took the food away after you’d determined what the angel probably needed. It didn’t protest at all, but let you remove the plate and watched as you collected the scraps that could be composted.

It didn’t protest when you led the angel to bed, either. This time, you just tugged all the bedsheets you had onto the floor and directed the angel’s attention onto you. “We’re going to sleep. You need to sleep. Every night. You sleep like this.” You lay down on the floor, tugged the blankets over yourself, and went still, slowing your breathing. The angel watched until you sat up again. “Now you do it.”

With some very gentle persuasion, you got the angel lying on its side, eyes closed. You watched it until its breathing deepened and its body relaxed. Then you went to sleep yourself.

The angel was still fast asleep when you woke, and you were careful not to disturb it as you made your way to the kitchen. You had a feeling it would turn up and, sure enough, when the smells of cooking made their way down the hall, the angel appeared, a blanket wrapped around it like a cloak.

They ate breakfast, this time not even choking once, and even brought their plate over to the washbasin. “Okay,” you told them once you were done cleaning up. They looked at you, gaze attentive. “We’re going to need to get you some clothes.”

You did not have any clothes in their size, and since you were smaller than they were, you couldn’t just take some of your clothes in. The wings were also a complicating factor. In the end, you didn’t have the time or skills to really make anything elaborate for the angel. With one of your old blankets, you simply created rough arm and neck holes and added darts in the sides to hold the entire thing together. There was no way to create holes for the wings. They were large enough that you just left massive slits down the back to create space. It wasn’t perfect, since the slits left the back rather open, but it was better than nothing. The angel was remarkably still for the whole measuring and pinning and sewing. It took a few hours for the entire process to be over, and you were sore by the end, but the angel had clothes.

It was not long after you’d fully clothed them, when you were lying on your bed to enjoy a rest, that someone knocked on your door.

You jolted, nearly throwing yourself out of bed. The angel startled as well, though they seemed to be more upset by your reaction than the knocking. Cautiously, you crept through the door, grateful that your window allowed you to see the people at your door without needing to open it.

The angel came, warm against your back as they stared out the window after you. The Head Priest stood, dressed in his usual gold-flecked robes and with two guards stationed at either shoulder. You felt the angel shift and bristle behind you turned to look at them.

The angel was staring, unblinking, at the priest and his entourage. Its wings had extended a little, puffed up like the pigeons that littered the town did when they were threatened. But its face… it was the first time you’d ever seen the angel make a real expression of emotion. And it was afraid.

That, more than anything, made your stomach sink.

The knocking came again, louder, harder. The angel slunk back a little. One of its hands was latched onto your wrist and it seemed determined to drag you with it. It actually managed to haul you along for a few steps before you dug your feet in. “I have to answer the door. Go hide.” The angel released your wrist, but it hesitated, wings twitching. “Go. Hide. I will be fine.” The angel flexed its wings once, then turned and headed back to your room. You breathed in and out, then headed toward the door.

As soon as you opened the door, the priest moved into your house. He didn’t shove past you, since he didn’t touch you, but he did force his way in. The guards just roughly shoved you aside, barely recognizing your presence.

“Can I help you, your grace?” you said. It was difficult to keep your voice even. The priest wasn’t a withered old man, but he wasn’t young, and his gaze was as sharp as a shard of glass. He glared around the room, nose twitching. You resisted the irrational thought that he was smelling for something. You licked your lips. “Was my church cleaning not up to your satisfaction?”

The priest’s gaze focused on you. “The cleaning has been fine. However, two days ago, an object of some great importance went missing from the church.”

It was him saying ‘an object’ that saved you. Because you didn’t take an item, you had, technically, stolen a person. But your brain didn’t quite register that he couldn’t just say you’d stolen a person, so when he said ‘an object,’ you took him at face value and your surprise was genuine.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” The priest’s eyes locked onto yours, and you stared back with stupid, genuine bewilderment. There was a flicker across his face, like surprise- maybe he didn’t expect you to look so guileless.

“You won’t mind if we have a look around, then?” the priest said, voice lightly curious. Not even accusing. Genial.

It was a trap. Obviously. Say yes, the priest can poke wherever he wants and look for anything he determined to be incriminating. Say no, that was instantly suspicious, even if you were only doing it for the sake of your privacy. But if you said yes… there was no way he wasn’t going to find the angel in your bedroom.

“Actually, I do mind. Are you accusing me of something?” Acting outraged was your best defense. Not a good defense, just the best one you had. “I don’t appreciate having people rifle through my things just because I happened to be near the church when something was stolen.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed. The guards stiffened. “No accusation, of course. We’re merely… cautious. Surely you can understand why we would want to check out every possible lead. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear, no?”

“I have nothing to fear, but that hardly means I want people meandering into my house at all hours, demanding proof for crimes there is no evidence I committed. Tell me, if I came into your home tomorrow, demanding to look for something you may have stolen while you were in my house, would you be perfectly happy to have me poking through your underwear drawer?” The priest’s face went a strange shade of pink-red, but you barreled on with no pause for his response. “And, to add to that, you haven’t even told me what was stolen! For all I know, you could simply claim any of my items to be the thing I stole and slap me in chains for it!”

The priest was still deadly calm, but there was a clear rage to his voice when he spoke again. “Do you truly think a man of god would do such a thing?”             You lifted your chin in a gesture of audacity. “You call yourself that. But people can call themselves any number of things. And would a true man of god barge into someone’s house and demand to search their things with no evidence of their involvement in any crime?”

The priest’s face was heading toward a shade of puce, but, with effort, his jaw unclenched. “Very well. But I’m certain you’ll understand of we are, as of now, reluctant to have you in the church.”

“Yes, sir.” Losing your job was, really, one of the less-terrible outcomes, and the one you’d expected the most. You had other jobs, though losing the church would be something of a financial loss. Though you also had to consider that you were feeding another mouth, now… That could be a problem.

The priest seemed to take your thoughtful silence as some kind of shameful penitence, because he puffed himself up and nodded. “Take care. We will… see what we can find about the thievery.”

You guided him back to the door. It wasn’t until the door closed and you’d watched him head down the street a good ways before you left out a breath. You made it a few steps down the hall before your entire body demanded that you sit down and tremble for a while.

The priest was gone, for now, but who knew how long until he was back? He didn’t have enough evidence now, but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t find some. Or make some up- all he needed was enough to make the local governor force a search of your house, and there was no way you could hide the angel from that. You covered your face with your hands, trying to breathe slowly. If they found you, they could kill you.

Someone slumped down next to you. The angel. It pressed up close to your side, petting at your shoulder like it had heard about being comforting, but it hadn’t ever experienced it. One of its wings draped over you.

There was quiet for a while. The angel touched its head to yours, eyes closed. It was warm, tucked beneath its wing. Calming. You took deep breaths and thought hard.

The only evidence that you’d taken the angel at all was that the angel was there with you. Maybe there was some other evidence at the scene, but the angel was the big problem. The solution was, obviously, to get rid of the angel.

Well, not get rid of it. More like… set it free. They were still an angel, after all. They’d needed some basic training in how to be a person, but certainly they could survive on their own. And, well, it would ease some of the pressure on you, financial and legal.

The angel shifted next to you. You glanced at them. They gave you a once-over, then stood and headed off to your room. A few seconds later, they reemerged, dragging a fair amount of blankets with them. Before you could ask what they were doing, they had already knelt next to you and were shoving the blankets all around you. They bundled you up and carefully lay you on the ground. For your part, you allowed it to happen. The angel seemed to have something they wanted to do.

Once you were wrapped in blankets and lying down, the angel settled next to you. There was a rather proud look on its face and you realized, with a burst of amusement, that it was trying to get you to sleep, as this was more or less what you’d done with the angel to get it to sleep! Did it think you were tired?

The angel shuffled closer, so there was little space between your bodies, and spread a wing over you. The feathers shrouded you in darkness, though there was enough light to just make out the angel’s face. They were as inexpressive as ever, but they seemed to be studying you. When you stared back, with no indication of closing your eyes, they shifted, clearly uncertain what happened next.

“I’m not tired,” you told them. “Though I appreciate the effort.”

They stared at you for a long moment before, with now warning, hopping to their feet and all but running into the kitchen. You took a moment of peace, wrapped in blankets are you were, before following them.

The angel was rummaging through your breadbox. “Are you hungry? What are you doing?” you asked as you approached. The angel thrust a slice of bread at you. “Er. Thank… you?” The angel waited, watching you. It seemed to be expecting you to eat. Just to appease it, you did so. As soon as you started eating, the angel went back to rummaging through your food supplies. It offered you several pieces of dried fruit next, then a couple of strips of jerky. You took them all, though you stopped eating after the first couple of pieces. Once the angel noticed you weren’t eating, they paused and stared.

“Thank you,” you said, a bit bewildered by what was happening. “Are you okay? I don’t really need anything. Is there a reason you’re giving it to me?”

The angel stared at you. Their brows creased ever so slightly- maybe they were upset. You patted their arm, careful not to drop anything that had given you. “Don’t look so worried. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

The angel looked back at you. Hard to tell what they were thinking, as it always was, but you thought they looked content. They took the food back and placed it away again. “Okay,” you told them. “We’ve got some things we’re going to work on.”

First step of getting the angel to live on its own: teach the angel how to be a person. The eating and sleeping bits were taken care of, and the angel had picked up on clothing and even sewing with surprising speed. Regardless of how little information it had known previously, it seemed all you had to do was give it the information once, and it would retain it. That didn’t make teaching it how to bathe any less difficult. And teaching it how to go to the bathroom- well, the less said of that, the better.

And so the week went. You went to work, leaving the angel to hide in your house, then returned home and taught it what you could. It picked up reading so fast you felt like you were reminding it of something rather than teaching it, and teaching it math and money went the same way. The angel even attempted to cook for you, though it hadn’t picked up that you were seasoning the food initially, so the meal was bland. You merely had to explain that to it, though, and the next meal was much improved.

Your next day off approached, not quickly or slowly, just approached. The angel seemed almost agitated, though, as time passed. More distressed when you left, tenser and quieter when you were around. You hadn’t told them about your plan to send them away- to free them, to free them- but perhaps they’d picked up on it on their own. They were still as silent and expressionless as ever, but they stayed near you, their head lowered as they presented you something they’d cooked, or showed you something they’d cleaned or sewed, waiting for your praise or correction.

When your next day off arrived, the angel’s agitation seemed to peak. It hovered near you, wings tucked close to its back. Even when upset, it didn’t show much expression or even move all that much. It just stood, like a stone statue, unhappiness radiating from it. Still, when you told it you were going for a walk, it didn’t protest. Just looked at you and nodded.

Its compliance made you feel guilty, somehow. Even thought you weren’t doing anything wrong. This was the best path. If they angel stayed, they would just be killed or recaptured. Along with you.

The hike to the woods wasn’t usually long, but you had to go the extended route to keep away from people. The angel hid their wings under a bulky robe. It wasn’t a very good disguise, but from a distance and the right angle, they would hopefully be mistaken as a hunchback.

You led the angel deep into the woods, deeper than you would usually venture. The angel flexed their wings, shifting the cloak. Their distress flowed around them, their eyes burning into your lower back. I’m sorry, you thought, even though you weren’t sure why. This was for the best, so why did it hurt?

It took hours of walking, legs sore, before you stopped in a clearing. It was a large clearing, and more oblong than circular, but it was good enough for your purposes. And those purposes were giving the angel somewhere big enough to take off from.

Admittedly, you weren’t certain it could fly, but the wings seemed large and healthy and it had no trouble with walking or any other physical functions after some initial wobbles. It stood to reason that flight would be no different. The angel looked up at the sky, staring. Its wings spread, extending out and out to their full length. It seemed to be giving them a good stretch- there hadn’t been room in your house to do so. After a moment, it gave a couple experimental flaps. Cool wind buffeted you.

The flaps gained in intensity and, for a moment, you thought it would take off right there. But its wings stilled and slipped shut and it looked at you.

“I got you this.” You thrust a basket at them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was what you could spare (technically probably more than you could spare, but a couple days of broth wouldn’t kill you) and the basket had a fabric strap long enough that the angel could wrap it around their body and hold it while flying.

The angel took the basket and peered at the food and water and clothes and single book you’d stockpiled inside. It looked them over for a moment, then glanced back up at you.

It was the second time you’d seen the angel really emote anything and it was sorrow.

The angel’s eyes watered and its apparent confusion at that development seemed to pale in the face of its clear upset. It practically threw the basket back at you, wings spreading and sending a powerful gust across the clearing. Then it opened its mouth and did something you’d never seen it do before.

It wailed. A keening sound of despair. You’d never heard it make any kind of noise before. In fact, it seemed startled by the fact that it had made any kind of noise, though, like the crying, that didn’t seem to stop it. Instead, the angel crumpled to the ground, wings striking the dirt, and wailed.

That wasn’t quite the reaction you’d been expecting. Maybe some protest, but not the clear despair it was displaying. “H-hey, don’t- you’re okay.” You approached the angel cautiously. Its wings kept flexing and slapping against the ground and there was an impressive amount of force behind them. Still, it didn’t direct any of the hits toward you, so it felt reasonably safe to approach.

As soon as you were within a few feet of it, the angel scrambled forward. You almost bolted, but the angel didn’t attack like you though it might. It pressed its forehead to the dirt an inch from your boots and spread its wings, every feather on end and quivering. When you tried to take a step back, the angel shuffled forward, pressing its head even more firmly to the ground. It seemed to be trembling.

Your heart ached. What were you doing?

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it would be safer if you weren’t… But I didn’t mean to upset you.” You knelt next to the angel and placed your hand on its head. The angel went still. For a moment, the stillness was like a frightened dog, expecting a strike, then it melted into a gentle contentedness.

It took a couple moments before the angel was quiet completely again. They lifted their head, face sticky from tears and a bit of dirt smudged along their cheeks. The entire scene was a little pathetic. “Here.” You pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed at their face. After a moment of letting you do so, they took it and cleaned their own face off.

Once its face was clear and it had calmed down a little, the angel looked at you balefully. It seemed to be waiting. Almost resigned. But still frightened. Like it was waiting for a scolding or punishment.

“Are you okay now?” you asked. The angel looked balefully at you. One of its hands lifted, like it was reaching out for you, but it paused before it could make contact. Its head drooped. Its wings drooped too, proud feathers dragging in the dirt. “I’m sorry,” you said again. The angel curled in on itself further. Its eyes were on the ground. “I’m not trying to send you away, all right?”

One of the feathered ear-things on the side of its head twitched. You took that as an invitation to continue. “I thought… I thought you’d be safer if you left, though.”

The angel looked up at that. They didn’t change their expression much, but they were staring intently. You reached out, slowly enough that they could move away if they wanted to. They didn’t, and you were able to rest your hand on the side of their head. Your fingers brushed against the soft, downy little feathers of their ear-wings and the somewhat-tangled mess of their hair. The angel closed their eyes and leaned into your touch. Their entire body shuddered in a sigh. “The people who captured you are still here,” you continued. “If they find you, they’re going to hurt both of us. Maybe kill us.”

The angel leaned away from your touch and lifted its gaze to yours. They were focused on you, intently so. “It’s best if you leave,” you told them. “They won’t be able to find you if you fly away, and they won’t be able to tie anything to me, either. We’ll both be safer.”

It was quiet for several moments. The angel stared at you, their wings twitching with aborted motions. They looked between you and the sky, over and over. Their brows wrinkled. Then, in a flash, they reached out and enveloped you.

Technically, it was just a hug, but the angel’s sheer size and the addition of their wings made it so much more. They surrounded you, tucking you into their chest and holding you close. You could feel their heartbeat, jackrabbiting under their ribs, and their heavy breathing. They were soft and warm around you. One of their hands moved to cradle the back of your head.

You cried. It wasn’t a lot of crying. Mostly it was some particularly wet breathing and a few tears. But the angel held you closer, rocking you against its soft chest and you felt warm and shielded. It presses its cheek to the top of your head and you felt one of its ear-wings flapping, like it was stretching out to touch you.

It was a nice moment, but it couldn’t last. You stopped crying and slipped your way back out of the angel’s arms. They let you, tucking their wings back against their back again and their arms falling back against their sides. Looking into their face, you felt… guilty? That didn’t seem fair. You were doing this for their own good. Right?

The longer you looked at them, the less you could convince yourself of that. Your shoulders drooped and a fresh wave of tears came to your eyes. The angel didn’t want to leave. You wanted them to leave, because them staying there would be a problem for you. A genuine problem, yes, a problem that could get you killed. But it wasn’t fair to pretend that this was good for the angel, nor was it fair to ignore how the angel was feeling. It didn’t want to leave. It was terrified when it realized you were going to try to make it leave.

You hung your head. “I’m sorry.” The angel watched you. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I don’t want you to leave, but we’re both going to be in trouble if you stay. We need a way to keep you safe, but I don’t know how to do that, and I can’t think clearly about it when I’m going to be in trouble if you get found out too-” Your voice choked off, breath heaving in panic. You scrubbed the heel of your hand against your eyes until it hurt, until the pain grounded you.

Fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging it away from your eyes. The angel was holding onto you, both hands wrapping around your wrist. Their strength was more than you’d anticipated. Perhaps it was their general softness or their seeming clumsiness or cluelessness, but you’d never seen them as particularly tough.

The hand that held your wrist, however, was not weak. It was firm and unyielding. When you pulled away, it let you go without a hint of resistance, but you had no doubt that if it had wanted to keep hold of you, you wouldn’t have been going anywhere.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said. “I wasn’t sure if you would understand.”

The angel brushed its hand gently along the side of your face, cupping your cheek. Its face wasn’t terribly expressive, but there was something calmer, almost serene in its expression. It got to its feet, shaking out its wings, and extended its hand for you. There was a stunned moment before you took the hand and the angel pulled you to your feet. They kept your hand around theirs as they gathered up the basket you’d initially made for them and started to leave the clearing.

You let them lead you along until you realized they were leading you straight back to the village, and even when you got quite close to the buildings, they were not slowing down. “Wait,” you said. “What are you doing?” The angel gave your hand a squeeze, but they didn’t slow down. Anxiety prickled over your skin as you entered the town and headed toward the center.

People barely noticed you at first, but within a few minutes of marching through the town, people had started to point and stare. And then the staring turned into whispers and awe. Some people scrambled away. Some people gathered and followed from a distance, watching in something like awe.

You gave up on trying to stop them and instead walked alongside them to whisper furiously. “Hey. What are you doing? Do you have some kind of plan? I can’t tell what’s going through your head right now. I’m kind of just assuming you know what you’re doing, but it’d be nice to have some kind of confirmation.”             The angel squeezed your hand again. Their thumb traced over your knuckles. Their expression was serene, calm, like they’d just realized something that comforted them. It was reassuring to you, so you allowed them to drag you wherever they wanted to take you.

Until you realized they were dragging you toward the church.

“Wait.” You didn’t try to pull away again, but you did trip over yourself in your realization, making the angel slow down. “You can’t be serious- we can’t go there! That’s the exact place we’re supposed to be avoiding.”

The angel stared at you for a moment, then released your hand. It nodded to you before turning and heading toward the church again.

“Wha- wait!” The angel paused, allowing you to catch up. “You’re still going, huh?”

The angel stared at you. You sighed. “Okay. I guess we’re going, then.

The angel held out a hand. You took it once more. Together, you walked toward the church.

As soon as you stepped through the doorway, the angel drew itself up, wings fluffing. The entire thing was quite intimidating to watch, given its already tall stature. It glanced around, as if assessing the space. Warm, honey-gold sunlight filtered through the tall, stained glass windows and illuminating the wood of the benches. When the sunlight hit the angel, it seemed to surround them, glimmering off their body in a way that wasn’t quite natural. Almost like a halo around its entire body.

You waited, mostly trying to see what the angel was going to do next. As it turned out, you didn’t have to wait very long, because a pissed-looking priest stormed into the sanctuary.

“The beast returns to holy ground,” he snarled. You stepped in front of the angel, arms spread.

“They’re not a beast. You’re the one who captured them and chained them in your basement. They haven’t done anything!”

“They have been cast out of the divine host. Their fall and subsequent capture are what is deserved for those who would defy our Lord.” The priest didn’t sound enraged or even particularly vicious. His tone was cool and cold. He approached, steps clunking heavily against the cool wooden floor of the church. You resisted the urge to step back and steeled your resolve as the priest approached. The angel didn’t seem to be doing much, though you could feel their presence at your back. “Your assistance with their disobedience is a serious strike against you, but the Lord God will welcome all stray members back to his flock, provided you are willing to repent and return the beast to its confinement.”             The priest was leaning into your face, so close you could feel his breath touching your skin. The angel was still unmoving, but there was more tension to their body now. Like a big cat getting into a crouch.

Your breath was trembling, but you managed a clear enough whisper. “Fuck off.”

The priest leaned back. “Hm. Very well. May God have mercy on your soul.” The gestured toward a couple of men standing toward the back of the church. They started to approach, brandishing their short swords. “I would suggest surrender,” the priest said. “Unless you are eager to find out how the Lord God punishes those who disobey his-”

The angel lunged. Its wing brushed against your shoulder as it darted around you and slammed into the priest. He fell, the angel on top of him. Their wings shielded you from seeing what they were doing, but the choked gurgle from the priest let you know enough about what was happening.

The guards, who had been standing on either side of the aisle, near the pulpit, charged. One of them nearly caught the angel with their sword, but the angel managed to recoil just in time, leaving the priest gasping for air on the ground. The guards moved up, pushing the angel back as they blocked the priest from it. Together, they pushed the angel back a few more steps, advancing threateningly, until the angel glanced back and saw you. It stopped, digging its feet in, and turned back to the guards.

The angel spread their wings, blockading the entire aisle. It was difficult to see what happened next, but there was a scrambling noise of footsteps and the angel tucked their wings in and lunged.

Thanks to the armor the guards were wearing, this struggle was more prolonged. The angel’s wings flapped, coming down on the guard they were fighting with blows stronger than a fist could hope to achieve. One of the angel’s hands clutched at the guard’s wrist, driving the sword away from the angel’s belly. They wrestled the guard slowly to the ground, clawing at them with nails that seemed too long and sharp and stomping hard enough that the guard’s armor dented under their feet.

Chills wracked your body as you watched. The angel was a mortal, yes, but you’d clearly forgotten: mortal was not the same thing as human. And the strength with which the angel was tearing into the guard was not human.

And then a cold metal line settled against your throat. Sharp and cruel. A hand locked around your torso, pinning your arms to your sides. Icy terror settled into your brain and every vein in your body. Right. The angel was taking care of one of the guards. But there had been two.

“Call off the fucking bird,” the guard said, “before I slit your throat.”

The sheer terror in his voice should have made the threat less effective, but realizing that he was scared enough to kill you without thought was nearly enough to make you start begging for your life immediately. The angel whipped around as the first terrified whimper escaped your mouth.

It was the third time you’d seen the angel truly express emotion. And they were angry.

They bared their teeth and stretched their wings out, flexing them to nearly their full span. It was an impressive display, and a terrifying one. The knife dug a little more into your throat. Panic clawed your belly to shreds.

“Fucking stupid worthless shit,” the guard cursed behind you. The knife kept trembling at your throat, threatening to nick a little too deep. The angel watched, brows deeply knitted. It twitched its wings a few times, freezing when the blade drew blood at your throat. “You fucking take one step closer and your little pet human bleeds out like a pig,” the guard said. It wasn’t even a vicious or snarling threat. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. But the knife was just as sharp and the trembling was making it slip against your skin in a dangerous fashion.

The angel paused. It straightened up out of its attack crouch, wings tucking against its back. The knife eased at your throat a little. The angel took in a slow, deep breath, eyes on you. Its expression relaxed into something gentler as it met your eyes. It seemed to take a deep breath. Its wings relaxed. It closed its eyes. And it began to sing.

It wasn’t singing with its mouth or vocal cords. It was the same singing you’d heard in the beginning, the singing that had drawn you to the church’s basement. Less like the vocalization of a human, but more like an emotion made into pure sound. It vibrated through your limbs and settled in your chest, a heavy weight of sadness and fear.

The song pulsed, rose and fell, over and over again, thrumming and pulsing and changing as it went. It started as a terrible projection of fear and pain, injury and despair. Then the pain was threaded with hope, then a joy and relief so palpable it was its own kind of pain. Peace and comfort followed that, almost like being settled in a warm bed after a nice meal. Then an abrupt sharpening of terror and sadness before turning to determination, then blind, horrible rage. The anger pressed in around you, bearing down like a sharpened spear. But the rage wasn’t quite aimed at you. It was aimed at the man holding you. And being the target of an angel’s pure rage, even when nothing physical is being done with it, is a daunting prospect. The guard’s knees went weak and the knife at your throat wavered.

The song intensified. Your own legs were trembling under the weight of it. Anger and hope and fear and happiness and even love, pressing down on you, emotion given a deep, physical property. You sobbed, barely feeling the knife at your throat. Had it fallen away? Could you just not feel it anymore? What was real? All that was real was the song and the love that was building in the song, growing more intense around you. It was insulating, like the angel was trying to wrap you in the song until you were surrounded by care, until there was nothing else in the world.

You blinked your eyes. They hadn’t been closed, but you hadn’t been seeing anything. It had been more like the world had shifted slightly out of focus and you were just getting it back to center.

You were lying down across a lap. The shifting of wings above you let you know whose lap you were lying across. The angel was holding you, cradling your head against its body. There was still the faintest traces of song humming from it, though it wasn’t the great, overbearing crescendo it had once been. You made an attempt to sit up and the angel shifted around you, letting you move while still offering support.

“What happened?” you asked. You felt woozy, a bit out-of-body. The angel, obviously, didn’t say anything, but it did stretch one of its wings toward the crumpled shape of the other guard. He was lying on the ground, unmoving. “Is he-” you started, then stopped when you realized his chest was rising and falling. He seemed stunned, like you’d been a few moments ago.

You twisted your head around to get a better look at the rest of the room and winced. Stinging pain radiated from your neck. The angel nudged your hand away and ran its fingers over the lines cut into your skin. Right, the knife. They didn’t seem to be actively bleeding anymore, so they must not have been deep, but the angel still seems distressed by their very presence.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head back to look up into their face. The angel stares back at you, their ear-wings folded calmly against either side of their head. They seemed physically unhurt, or they weren’t in so much pain that they were showing it. “Good.” You sorted through your muddled thoughts. The song had hit you so hard, it was almost like your own body had gone through all those emotions it had conveyed at a rapid pace. No wonder the guard was stunned. Your head was swimming. But then your brain finally catches on a thought and you startle. “The priest!”

The angel caught you as you attempted to scramble upright and assisted you to your feet. The priest was close to the pulpit, but he was as collapsed as the guard. He seemed to be recovering faster, though that primarily consisted of him flopping his limbs in all directions. You approached, the angel close behind you.

The priest stared up at you as you got within speaking range. His face was completely under his control, unlike the rest of him, and a sneer contorted his expression. “You cannot win against His holy will. God will ensure that His holy justice will-”

“Uh huh,” you said. “He doesn’t really seem to be doing too much smiting right now, though.” The priest groaned on the ground, grinding his teeth.

“Are you going to kill me?” he said, a semi-hysterical laugh bubbling from his lips. “It’s no matter. I will return to His Holiness and my eternal home in heaven. And you- do you think you’ll be able to stay here with blood on your hands and that beast stalking your footsteps?”

“They’re not a beast,” you snapped before forcibly calming yourself. “I’m not going to kill you.” The angel shifted, clearly irritated, but you held up your hand to them. “I don’t have anything to kill you for. You haven’t done anything to me. Not really.” You turned to the angel. “It’s their decision. If they want you dead- that’s up to them. Not me.”

The angel watched you as you spoke, then it turned its gaze to the priest. You placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. Well, close to its shoulder. The angel was very tall. There was a moment of silence. The angel’s wings twitched. Maybe it was hesitant to try and kill now that it wasn’t the heat of the moment. Maybe it was weighing the pros and cons. The priest rolled onto his stomach and groaned.

The angel turned and pressed a kiss to your head. It happened so fast, you didn’t register it until the angel was turning and grabbing the man on the ground. They hefted him up by his lapels and started hauling him out of the church. You hurried along behind them.

It took only a few moments for the angel to make it to the enormous front doors of the church. They shoved them open with only one hand, sending more light across the sanctuary and revealing the large crowd of people milling around. At least half the town was gathered outside the church, presumably drawn by the commotion and the sight of an angel. The angel looked around them with what seemed to be satisfaction, then hefted the priest again, holding the man out in front of them. Then the angel extended their wings to their full length, drew the priest in close again, so their faces were mere inches apart, and began another song.

The previous song, the one inside the church, had been intense like holding your hand over an open flame, but this was intense like having a spear driven slowly into your brain. This was focused, purposeful. A spire of anger and pain. The world flickered behind your eyes, an image pressed against your brain- the memory of being thrown away, then lost, then trapped. The rage and grief and panic of being trapped. The priest’s face loomed down at you, sneering, cold, and the terror that welled inside of you twisted not just your stomach but your entire being. You were cast out and alone and the only thing you could do was scream as someone else caged you.

At some point, the angel had dropped the priest. They stepped closer to you, tucking their wings about you as the song ended, trembling and weak. They seemed tired, their wings drooping along with their posture. Their body slumped. They weren’t leaning against you, but they were swaying toward you. You reached up to take their face in your hands.

“You okay?” you asked. The angel blinked at you. A few more notes trembled out of it. You could feel them pass from the angel into you. And with them, something like an image: you, scoring out lines of text on a wall with a makeshift chisel, gently dimming the blinding brightness of the room to the comfortable darkness. The angel gave a long, shuddering sigh, then slumped forward until its body weight was slowly but surely crushing you.

The angel was asleep before either of you hit the ground. The priest didn’t seem to be doing much better. He was curled on the ground, occasionally twitching. Maybe he was crying, you weren’t sure. A couple of people walked over toward him, but no one seemed particularly worried. Had everyone else heard the song and made the connection too? Perhaps the angel had just been trying to tell its story. Maybe that was its revenge- making the entire town turn against him.

By the point you’d processed that information, you’d been smushed to the ground. The angel was big enough that you really couldn’t lift them at your best, and you were exhausted by the day. After only a couple seconds to shoving, you resigned yourself to being on the ground.

Footsteps shuffled closer and you looked up to see a few of your neighbors around you. “Need help?” an older man, one you recognized as someone who taught at the local university. You curled one arm protectively over the angel, cautious. “We’re not gonna hurt ‘em. Just trying to help get you home.”

You considered. Then nodded. The angel stirred as a few people worked together to lift it off of you, but it settled when you patted its arm. Slowly, you and the angel returned to your home.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting after you got to your house. For that moment, you didn’t expect anything at all, except for a long nap because you were exhausted. And you did get that, lying in the blanket pile on your floor with the angel. They practically crawled on top of you several times, and your subsequent crawling away so you weren’t crushed to death ended with the blanket pile being almost dragged to the other side of the room. The angel was, of course, never deterred, and it was on top of you by morning.

What you hadn’t anticipated happening at all was the gifts that kept appearing at your house. Clearly, your neighbors were dropping them off. Notes were often attached, sometimes independent of any gifts- wishing you well, giving you messages of support, and expressions of general kindness. There was food in the pile, from vegetables to fresh cheese and bread, as well as some cloth and even a quilt. That one, in particular, made tears come to your eyes. It had clearly been in a closet for a while, given the musty smell, but it was handmade and the kindness of the gesture was unmistakable.

It took you some time to remember what most of these gifts were for- not until you read the last note on the pile. It was from the town’s doctor, a simple gift of a few herbs used for healing, though they were in bundles too small to be useful. The note was simply ‘For health, luck, and peace.’”

The gifts, the note and herbs. You knew what they were for. You’d participated in the tradition before, though your gifts had been pretty paltry. They were traditional gifts given to a newcomer, sometimes when there was a baby born, but also sometimes when a person in the town married someone from outside the town. Gifts of welcome and acceptance.

You returned to the angel, arms laden with the gifts, and offered them to it. The angel seemed vaguely overwhelmed by them, but accepted them nonetheless. It still seemed tired, and so you spent the day at home, quiet and undisturbed. You bathed the angel, scrubbing bits of blood off it and trying to get the feathers of its wings clean. The angel, after some insistence, ended up bathing you, as well, and it fussed over the few bruises you’d gained in the fight. Another night was spent curled in the same nest-bed. This time, you just let the angel flatten you with its body. It was sort of cozy.

The next day, you returned to the church. The town was still a little quiet- there weren’t as many people out as there would usually be- but the people you did see nodded politely to you. Their nods were a little longer, a little lower, than they usually would be. Almost like slight bows. Though you weren’t entirely sure why they would be bowing at you. Perhaps they were bowing to the angel at your back.

The church seemed strangely abandoned, despite it having only been a bit over a day since everything had happened. The guard’s body was still crumpled on the floor, some blood splattered around him and dried to the floor. You approached it. The angel followed, though their wings fluffed up with agitation.

There wasn’t much else you could do with the body. You lifted it, with the angel’s help, and placed it on a pew. You cleaned the blood and viscera on the floor. Then, finally, you took the body downstairs, stripped it, and wrapped it in the white funeral cloth. The angel helped, with an expression on its face that seemed mournful, though it was hard to be sure.

Perhaps you could have left it like that, left the man wrapped in cloth and walked home. But it felt weird to do so. The angel helped you carry the man up into the graveyard. Then you dug out a pit and placed the body in it before burying them.

The angel knelt next to the grave, resting a hand on the dirt. “Sorry,” you told the grave. You weren’t sure where the other two were- the other guard and the priest, but you hadn’t seen them. Perhaps they’d been driven out. The townspeople certainly seemed to have taken your side. The man in the grave wasn’t entirely innocent- he had certainly seemed willing to kill or hurt the both of you. But you felt weird. The other two had lived. He hadn’t. Luck of the draw.

The angel leaned against you, just enough to feel the warmth of their presence. You sighed. They were safe, at the very least, and they were accepted by the town.

You looked at the angel. “What do you want to do now?”

The angel looked back at you. They blinked, once, slowly. Then they took your hand and pulled you into the church.

You knew where you were going before you got there. The heavy doors were solidly sealed, though no longer chained. The angel opened them, letting go of your hand as they did so. They stepped through the doorway, then looked back at you. You stepped forward and took their hand. And so, they led you back down to the basement.

The room was pitch black. You stretched out your hand and felt the rough walls. As you continued, you could feel the words carved into the stone, and some of the scratches and gouges where you’d carved the words away.

The angel moved toward the center of the room, away from the walls, and you followed them. They moved to the spot they’d been chained in. One of their hands was still around yours. The darkness of the room pressed in on you, so black there was no difference between your eyes being open or closed. The angel’s hand remained, the only point of contact in the room. Their thumb brushed over your knuckles, their fingers intertwining with yours. You could hear their breathing. You breathed, too. Together, in the small, dark room where you’d first met. There was nothing else. There was only the room.

The angel tugged on your hand, and you moved with them until you were flush against their chest. They hugged you, briefly, then sighed. It shuddered through all their bones on the way out, and seemed to take something with it. Like something they had been holding onto was released.

Then they pulled on your hand again and led you back out of the basement.

When you emerged into an area that was light enough to see, you caught sight of the angel’s face. It was the fourth time you had seen the angel really emote. And it was happy. There was a certain level of sadness or mournfulness to it as well. But the angel was smiling. Its gaze turned to you and it smiled wider still.

You cleaned the church for a while. It felt more like habit than anything else. Although there was something quite satisfying about going through the priest’s office and dumping everything onto the street. There should have been other officials in the church, but there weren’t any. Perhaps they’d fled when the priest was deposed, perhaps they’d just not wanted to stick around now that the angel they’d trapped was free. Who could say. You weren’t overly fussed at the loss.

When you emerged into the sanctuary, sore and a bit grimy, there were people there.

It was just a couple, a man and a woman. Then you saw the bundle they were clutching between them. A baby, presumably one born not too long ago. It squirmed a little in the blankets, but it didn’t cry. Its breathing seemed… maybe a little labored? You weren’t sure- you weren’t expert in babies.

The angel seemed to perk up when it noticed this, eyes intent, though it made no move to get closer to the couple. “Hello,” the woman ventured. You wracked your brain for their names. Tabitha, maybe? And the man was… Gerald? “We- we, ah.” Her voice quavered and she held the baby a little tighter.

“We came here for a blessing,” Gerald said. “We weren’t sure…”

Oh. Their baby was ill. “You might want to go to the town doctor,” you suggested.

“We were there,” Tabitha insisted. “They gave us medicine. But just in case we…” She glanced around the church, clearly anxious.

Right. They would want a blessing for their baby. One that would maybe grant good health, or at least a peaceful passing and a safe journey after, if not. You chewed the inside of your lip, unwilling to turn them away. But it wasn’t like you knew how to perform a blessing, or hand any authority to do so-

The angel caught your wrist and started tugging you along toward them. The couple huddled closer together at the sight of the angel, but both of them remained there. There was something in their expressions… perhaps awe? Perhaps even a flicker of hope. The angel stopped in front of them. Its hand shifted on your wrist until it was properly holding hands with you. Then it extended its other hand toward the couple.

They barely hesitated before holding their child out.

The angel didn’t quite touch the child, but their hand hovered over them. The air hummed with the faintest vibrations of a song. The baby squirmed. Your hand, the one the angel was holding, felt warm.

And then it was over. The angel dropped their hand. Their ear-wings fluttered a few times. They dipped their head to the parents in a slight bow.

“Thank you,” Tabitha whispered. She clutched the baby to her chest and it kicked its little legs a few times. “Thank you.”

The baby lived. Maybe it was the blessing, or maybe it was the medicine, it wasn’t clear. But clearly work had gotten around, because people came to you for blessings at least once a day. The angel always obliged, though they refused to work if you weren’t around, and they nearly always looked to you for something like permission before they performed the blessing. The only time they didn’t was when they were performing one for young kids or babies.

Perhaps the blessings was why you set up station in the church. It was easier for people to get to than your house, and the angel didn’t seem particularly bothered by being there. Sometimes, the people who came for blessings wanted to talk, too, and you were better suited for it than the angel. They listened, certainly, but people who were emotionally worn down didn’t tend to react well to an angel staring them down with a blank expression. You gave all the advice you could, which wasn’t much. They seemed to be happy after talking with you, though, so you kept at it.

The days settled into a steady routine. You would head to the church and take care of problems that any people had, be it by distributing blessings or by just talking to them. Then you’d gather the donations that had been left overnight and sort through them. The angel was a good help whenever you had to clean- their wings allowed them to get to areas in the high, sloping ceiling that you could never manage.

When they weren’t cleaning or blessing, they tended to hover around you. Not in an oppressive way- they just were usually nearby. Sometimes, if your mood turned, they would come closer, settling next to you, and either stretching their wings out toward you or draping their torso against you. The touch was comforting, and you found yourself responding similarly to their mood. You could almost sense when they were anxious, and they seemed pleased when you were nearby.

You’d just finished administering advice to a small crowd of worried people about a spate of rapid deaths and had settled down to look through the few offerings that had been left when it hit you. “Ah, fuck,” you said. The angel glanced over at you, ear wings twitching. “I’m a priest now, aren’t I?”

The angel headed over and flumped down next to you. Their wings wrapped around you in a comforting manner. “I give blessings and advice, I maintain the church, people leave offerings. Isn’t that a priest?”

The angel squeezed you with its wings. It nuzzled its head against yours. “I mean, I’m not a priest of God,” you mused out loud. “I don’t think I care much about Him.” You looked down at the angel, who stilled under your gaze and tilted its head until it was looking into your eyes. “I guess if I am a priest, I would be one for you, right? That makes me your priest.”

The angel shuddered. The motion trembled through its wings, making every feather stand on end. Its eyes went wide. Then it surged forward to mash its lips with yours.

It was so startling that you simply fell backward, unable to stand up against the angel’s enthusiasm. “Woah, woah, hey!” you said as the angel fumbled on top of you. One of your hands found the back of their head and tangled in their hair. The angle went still. “You okay?”

The angel closed its eyes and sang a few notes. An image rose into your mind- an image of you, leaning over the angel, your arms outstretched and a smile on your face. The emotion the angel felt surged so powerfully you could feel it in your fingertips. Vague other images swam through your mind- images of a couple kissing and a sense of both curiosity and jealousy, images of you and a deep sense of affection, and images of the town with a sense of protectiveness. The final image was one of you and the angel, wrapped together in each others’ arms, and the sense of want that came from that image made your breath catch.

When you came back to yourself, the song fading, the angel was blinking down at you. Their eyes were wet. You reached up and they leaned into your touch as soon as it met their cheek.

“Okay,” you said. “We can try this too. Let me show you.” Your other hand went back into their hair and you pulled them down for a kiss.

It was enthusiastic, if unskilled. When you broke away for air, the angel kissed furiously at every bit of skin they could reach. Scattered bits of song slipped from their lungs, tingling along your skin and mind in dizzying fashion.

Eventually, the angel backed off, apparently exhausted by the outburst of emotion. They slumped on the ground next to you, though there was an apparent reluctance to break contact. They kept a hand on your stomach, feeling you breathe. For your part, the connection sent wild sparks running through your body.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said after a few moments. The angel tugged you closer, pressing its face to the top of your head and heaving a contented sigh. Even without the song, all you could sense in the slow, steady breath was love, love, love.

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #fallen angel #angel partner #fallen angel story #the angel #idk man this took too long and i don't even know if I like the ending but it's HERE NOW

[ddarker-dreams]

Scarlet ribbons but she is the one telling the boys how she thinks they are super pretty/handsome/etc.

(Ps love your writing sm, it cheered me up alot after i had a rough day yesterday uwu)

WAHH WHAT AN ADORABLE IDEA.... it's what they deserve tbh... my favs from part 5 are like the only people who get to be happy on this blog hrjktmger and i'm so glad that my writing helped cheer you up, i hope that the past few days have been treating you better!!

Reader is referred to as girlfriend here!

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

He gets the cutest blush that he tries to hide by covering his face with his hand and clearing his throat. Passione's Don, who remains unwavering in the face of death, can't handle his beloved heaping praises upon him. No matter how suave he may act, your relationship is his first foray into romance. There's a slight shakiness to his voice when he returns your compliment. It doesn't help that there's this glint in your eye that tells him you'll be using this newfound knowledge to your advantage. He supposes it's only fair, considering his penchant for teasing you whenever possible, but maybe he'll go easy on you after learning how it feels. That isn't to say he dislikes your kind words — more so that the temporary loss in his composure is a strange sensation. Strange, yet not unwelcome.

Bruno

Your serious Capo melts on the spot at such ardent praise — he can feel Cupid's arrow piercing him in real time. He takes a moment to recollect himself, before wondering aloud what brought this on. When you point out that he compliments you all the time without any real reason, he puts his hands up in defense, conceding to your argument. If you're in public, he'll limit his response to a warm thank you. Should you be away from prying eyes, however, he'll pull you into an embrace. It serves a dual purpose. You won't be able to see the pink dusting his cheeks and he gets to wrap you up in his arms. You really are the light of his life, he'll tell you. As unconventional as the lifestyle you both lead is, it's moments like this where he delights in a shred of normalcy.

Fugo

His overactive brain temporarily short circuits. Fugo is the type to blush up to his ears, no matter how vehemently he denies it. This poor guy considers you infinitely out of his league and immediately assumes you broke the espresso machine or something and want to soften the blow by using flattery. He sputters for a few moments before his tongue recalls how to properly form coherent words. He'll downright ask what angle you're trying to use here. He isn't used to receiving compliments without the other person having an end goal in mind. Once it's clear you just felt like letting him know, he takes deep breaths to calm his heart, which he can hear thumping loudly. Fugo then starts saying that objectively speaking, you are far more aesthetically pleasing, and starts lifting off some mathematical terms that fly over your head.

Mista

Mista points at himself and says "Me?" just to make sure he heard you right. This is a big moment for him. It isn't that he doubts your physical attraction to him, but hearing it confirmed out loud in your sweet voice is a real treat. He'll sling an arm around your shoulder and drops the line, "You're not so bad yourself", because he thinks it sounds cool. Mista wants to maintain his laidback air, but when you say stuff like that, his stomach does soumersalts and his hands start sweating. He has this big goofy grin and confident gait the remainder of the day. The one trade off (in his opinion) is that the Pistols start swarming about, insisting that you pay them equal praise. Chaos ensues until you appease their neediness for your validation. It is his soul made manifest, after all.

Narancia

Narancia does a little fist pump and starts cheering internally. Although, if you called him pretty, he might pause and get petulant. He totally exudes machismo, he'll insist. He'll warm up to the compliment eventually, though, but he won't admit it. Regardless, he's hype about it. His energy skyrockets the rest of the day. He's all over you, peppering your face with kisses, picking you up and twirling you around, he's on cloud nine. He considers it his personal mission to shower you in praise and this only reaffirms the creed. He'll go up to random people in public, point at you, and say stuff like, "Isn't she so cute? That's my girlfriend, yeah, that pretty lady over there. Do you see her? Just look at her, she's amazing, the coolest ever, did you know she—" and on and on he'll go.

Abbacchio

Similar to Fugo, he initially assumes that you're trying to butter him up. He'll wryly ask what you intend to cajole him into doing. When you huff and insist that this is a no strings attached compliment, he'll study you, since he knows the many tells that signify you're lying. Upon realizing you're being genuine, he'll grumble a few words of gratitude and leave it at that. Don't let his composure fool you — his heart is pounding away like he's a hormonal teenager again. He will lie awake that night, your words repeating on a loop without his Stand's assistance, floating in this warm and fuzzy sensation. Abbacchio might not be the best with his words, but he swears an oath to compliment you properly the next time he sees you.

#giorno x reader #bruno x reader #fugo x reader #mista x reader #narancia x reader #abbacchio x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #vento aureo x reader #jjba x reader #part 5 x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #scarlet ribbons #answered #Anonymous

[beesandflowers]

WE’LL BE OKAY

summary: you decide to sleep on the couch after a small argument, but Kuroo can’t sleep without you

pairing: timeskip!kuroo x gender neutral reader

notes: this is my first time posting my work on tumblr so please be mindful! any comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated

wc: 1.1k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, angst if you squint, FLUFF!!, slight kissing, established relationship, mentions of arguments (and kuroo’s parents unhealthy marriage)

[3:37 AM]

If there was one thing Kuroo hated more than anything, it was falling asleep without you, especially if he was the reason for it.

While he was silently watching the unmoving ceiling and listening to the clock tick each passing second, you were resting on the L shaped couch on the other side of the door.

The snarky replies and empty insults from earlier kept repeating in Kuroo’s head, filling the empty silence of your bedroom. It was like they were spilling out of his ears and staining the cream colored sheets. Like a loud ringing that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t mean them, he never would. His fatigue wasn’t an excuse for it, but it was still the only reason behind the petty one sided argument that occurred only four hours ago. He was just mad at everything but he took all of his bottled up anger out on you.

You knew he would never mean it, because, well- it was Kuroo. Sweet, affectionate, dorky Kuroo who loves you more than words could explain. Who shows his love during lazy Sunday mornings when you can’t be bothered to get up, and through the polaroid of you two in his wallet that everyone at the office has seen, and the endless chemistry books he annotates for you which you find so weird, but its okay because he’s the one who does it. Who asks you to tie his tie before work when he’s fully capable of doing so, just so he can admire you, and who remembers the date and location of your first everything’s with little trinkets from each one in a small box on top of the closet (where you can’t reach).

So of course he wouldn’t mean what he said. You just didn’t want to provoke him even further and thought it be best for him to cool off. You weren’t mad at him. Although, this decision was made without Kuroo’s knowledge since you stayed silent for most of the disagreement and wanted to keep your own emotions in check. You might have broken down right then and there if any words came out of your mouth. It wasn’t like he was raising his voice at you, but you —like any other person— hated conflict.

It was incredibly obvious that the words weren’t directed to you since he had said similar things about a new coworker that was giving him a hard time. It became quite clear that he wasn’t yelling at you, but almost, to you. And you let him, because you knew the root of his distress, and because he deserved to let everything out once in a while, just like he let you do the same. Even if this wasn’t the best way to do it, you were sure to talk about it later.

You were willing to be patient for him, and wait for him, and give him comfort because he deserved it for all the times he’s been there for you. But you weren’t able to do that for him at the time since it was almost midnight, and you knew how his brain worked, so you thought this would be best for him.

Though, it might’ve been better to tell him beforehand the actual reason for your sleeping on the couch, but it hadn’t crossed your mind.

Kuroo had a bad habit of overthinking excessively every time you would fight (no matter how big or small), and would doubt every possible detail, only for you to remind him that one fight does not determine your relationship and does not erase your history.

So, as always, the action of you sleeping on the couch was interpreted by Kuroo as the worst thing imaginable. It reminded him of the relationship his parents had, something he always tried to steer away from, and it was rare for you to do this —to be fair, most of your arguments didn’t usually happen right as you were getting ready for bed. This slight miscommunication caused a large amount of discomfort and Kuroo couldn’t bear it any further.

Which is why he quickly decided to lift the duvet off of his body, put on his bunny slippers, and trudge his heavy body out of the bedroom and into the living room. When he spotted your body laying on the worn out couch, he also happened to notice that the pillow wasn’t behind your head —probably ending up somewhere on the floor— and you were in an odd positon. Maybe you were restless too. Maybe this would be okay.

He neared the couch and bent down to place a light kiss on your forehead and proceeded to whisper a small apology that he would repeat in depth when you were awake and ready to listen.

You hummed at him, presumably in your sleep, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Carefully, he slid both his arms underneath your frame and hauled you into his chest while you subconsciously wrapped your arms and legs around him. Your head had comfortably nuzzled his neck, and he was reminded of all your promises that no matter what happens, you would still love each other.

As he was slowly walking back to your bedroom, enjoying the peace that he couldn’t grasp alone, he felt two feathery kisses placed in the crook of his neck and his shoulder. The kisses were gentle, and lasted for a few seconds before you moved to place another one. They were so precious, and he happily basked in the warmth of your lips on his skin.

He almost wouldn’t have caught it —it was hard not to from the serenity of the environment—, but when the beautiful phrase of:

“I love you, Tetsu.”

Had spilled from your lips in so much as a whisper, his heart had grown three sizes too big, and he was sure it might have compressed his lungs. That would be the only reason for the wonderful ache in his chest. Not an ache of dread or hurt, but one of purity and joy. An ache that only you knew how to cause.

The fact that you declared this while still asleep, made his entire face turn a light pink and the love in his heart to overflow. And he was definitely sure you were asleep. By now he could easily distinguish it with experience from the times you tired to fake being asleep just to tease him.

It was all so domestic, so lovely, and he wouldn’t have traded for the world.

After you were both tucked comfortably into bed, with your boyfriend’s arms securely wrapped around you, along with his quiet words of apology and promise, the both of you could sleep contently.

Because he knew that you guys were going to be okay, and that you would be okay for the rest of your lives to come.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! #hq fluff #kuroo comfort #haikyu x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo drabble #kuroo imagine

[least-carpet]

Hiiii, if it's not too much, can you describe the biggest differences between the live action characters and the novel characters in MDZS? They are a lot, so I will love even the difference between few of them! I haven't seen the live action and I don't know if I will ever, but I am curious, considering all the meta. Anyway, thank you in general, even if you don't answer!

Hello anon! This has been in the inbox forever because there are soooo many ways to answer this! However, let me be transparent that I've watched maybe like 1/10 of CQL. Among other obstacles, I simply do not care that much about Lan Wangji and he's always there (even though Wang Yibo is giving it his all... it's not his fault I'm a hater...). Chewing through a book with Ms. Mxtx's commentary was just more enjoyable to me, and even then, to be honest, I still liked SVSSS better. (I just love Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu so much. That dude is wild.)

Still, the live action definitely affected how I understood certain characters (...primarily Nie Huaisang) and made me interested in relationships that I didn't pay any attention to in the novel. (I freely admit that the nieyao brainrot is 100% CQL's fault.) Also I found Wang Zhuocheng's Jiang Cheng very cute and loveable. It definitely contributed to my Jiang Cheng Brain Disease.

LISTEN. HE HAS BIG SAD EYES AND THE MEANEST SNEER AND HE MIGHT BURST INTO TEARS AT ANY TIME. HE IS A BABY. A baby who could kill you with his terrifying lightning whip! But a baby nonetheless, to me.

So if you want someone with a real and knowledgeable opinion on the live action, I'm probably not the right person for that! However, here's one difference that changed a bunch of stuff about the characters that I found compelling in the novel: the second flautist.

CQL adds Su She as a second flautist doing unorthodox cultivation in a couple of different places, including at Qiongqi Path, where he seizes control of Wen Ning and is therefore responsible for Jin Zixuan's death. Removing the responsibility for Jin Zixuan's death from Wei Wuxian creates a bunch of cascading character and relationship implications that I don't love.

Firstly, all of the people who cautioned Wei Wuxian against his unorthodox cultivation are now... wrong. If he never lost control, then actually his assessment that he could maintain control wasn't overconfidence, it was just true, and he was persecuted because the Jin needed a scapegoat and wanted the Yin Tiger Tally, not because his cultivation path actually involved significant risks and drawbacks. (To be fair, the Jins actively exploited those drawbacks, the public perception of his cultivation, and Wei Wuxian's failure to manage his reputation. But it matters whether the risks exist or are just made up.)

Secondly, removing his responsibility for Jin Zixuan's death transforms both Wei Wuxian's character and how we understand his relationships with Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng, and Jin Ling. Because, in the novel, he kills Jin Zixuan under duress but also after a lifetime of conflict with him. Like, he hates the dude, he doesn't think he's worthy of Jiang Yanli, and he's not willing to examine his hatred and resentment even though Jiang Yanli loves Jin Zixuan and wants to marry him, even after she marries him and has a child with him. (I would argue that a lot of the resentment is because of the eventual marriage; by marrying Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan becomes legally recognized family to the Jiang siblings, while Wei Wuxian's relationship with them has no social recognition; I think Wei Wuxian is deeply threatened by that but can't articulate it.) It's a huge failure! Like, dude, you loved someone and you killed that person's beloved spouse. That points to a certain degree of repressed jealousy, possessiveness, longing, arrogance, the list goes on... I am so compelled by that conflict, and the adaptation just erases it.

This also affects how we read Jin Ling's relationship with Wei Wuxian. In one scenario, a teenage Jin Ling is (eventually, minus one little stab) ending the cycle of violence by not seeking vengeance for his father's murder. In the other, it was actually someone associated with Jin Ling's paternal family that killed his father, and he's maybe just... coming to terms with that? One of these scenarios is so much richer and more interesting.

How it affects the relationship between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian is a little more subtle. It locates the responsibility for a lot of the harm done to the Jiang siblings with the Jin sect, not with Wei Wuxian, removing some of Wei Wuxian's culpability in the devolution of his relationship with Jiang Cheng. If Wei Wuxian isn't guilty of wronging the Jiang family (and instead is also a victim of the Jin sect), then all of Jiang Cheng's rage and betrayal was misdirected. They were both tricked. In some ways, maybe that's easier to patch up after canon? (I wonder if this is why many CQL yunmeng shuangjie reconciliation fics have Jiang Cheng apologize to Wei Wuxian, but not the other way around?) But it's so much less interesting to me!

Finally, it removes Wei Wuxian's tragic flaw! Dude is legitimately a genius but he's got hubris coming out of his ears and it fucks him up big time! This is classic stuff. Please stop flattening my boy!!

#alas I am outed as a fake CQL fan after all #sorry y'all #I love all the edits though. I am stuffing them into my horrible little mouth every day #I'm the worst kind of fake CQL fan because my brain has fully mashed some of the series I've seen together with the novel events #FINALLY I JUST LOVE... CQL NIEYAO... YUM YUM YUM... THEY ARE CRAZY TOGETHER!! #THEY BOTH GET SOOO UPSET OVER THE BREAKUP!! #wen yao in nmj's memories... the brAIDS UNDER THE HAT #also qin su had .5 seconds of screen time and I fell in love with her #slap your husband qin su!! go apeshit!! you deserve it girl!! she survived that stab in my heart 🥲 #anyway maybe one day I'll watch the whole thing. unfortunately I am not very compelled by canon wangxian #I also don't know how I ended up here. the jiang cheng brain disease got me good #wei wuxian #jin zixuan #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #jin ling #qin su #yunmeng shuangjie #yunmeng trio #xuanli #nieyao #mdzs + #anon asks #asks #least-carpet thoughts

[cats-obsessions]

Dark Urge/Gortash

Just a Drabble I cant get out of my head- Durge is able to recover more of his memories along his travels back to Baldurs Gate, and Orin doesn’t bother telling Gortash that her kin has returned.

“Hello, Lordling”

The Dark Urge, Son of Bhaal, Nox leans back against the old, mahogany desk in his dear friend, Gortash’s office where he’s been waiting, ever patiently, for the tyrant to arrive.

It’s luxurious to a point Nox had once found gaudy, but the room gives him a warm feeling in his chest now.  Some parts of his memories echo through his empty brain as mere feelings and impressions. Some remain vivid, yet the bulk of what he could access shows glimpses of his life only in the months before Orin’s attack, but he knows they go deeper. Flashes of late night scheming, shared heists, interrogations, pools of blood, carefully plotted assassinations, then, the smell of avernus clinging to their skin amidst a first kiss. All of it went back to him- Gortash, not Bhaal. Not his fathers wishes or the Urge or even the temple. Everything in Nox’s empty brain was bringing him here.

He let his companions greet the new archduke on their own, but he watched from the shadows, the disappointment in Gortash’s eyes betraying the tyrant, but this was a meeting better had in privacy. The very same newly coronated archduke stands in front of him now for the first time in only the gods know how long.

“Fuck off,” Gortash grumbles, a tight frown on his face. The large double doors of the office swing closed behind him. As their eyes meet, Nox can see the extent of exhaustion that permeates the tyrant’s being. Circles much darker than usual shroud his near-black eyes. His hair had grown in the past two months, resting on his collarbones in disarray. Even the way he breathes sings of discontent.

Nox tilts his head, unmoving from his spot on the lord’s desk “Not the welcome home I was hoping for. I can understand your anger, but-”

“-Orin” the duke hisses sharply, “I have better things to do than this. As do you. Make yourself useful for once.”

Orin. Something in Nox’s chest sinks with the realization, “She’s been mocking you with my face? Gods- I’m going to kill that inbred little bitch the second I see her” he growls.

That earned a raised eyebrow from Enver, but the duke keeps wary eyes trained on his assassin “I’m not playing your games this time” he sighs.

“I assure you, Enver, I am not here to play games.”

Nox watches as Gortash moves across the room to his liquor cabinet against the wall, fine wood gilded in gold. The duke’s eyes stay trained on him, even as he begins to pour a glass of fine, amber whiskey. “Yes, yes, you will slash me in two, bathe in my blood, and what was it-” Gortash pauses to take a long, slow sip, sighing once again “-wear my intestines as a scarf? No matter- all the same, uncouth drabble with you.”

“Not until the end. And not like that. I won’t kill you until- unless we are the last two living in all the realm. First you, then me.” Nox clenches his fingers, his jaw tightening and untightening as he feels the images of Enver’s death set in behind his eyes. The Urge whispers for him to take the Banite now, but he knows better. He takes a slow, deep breath, reaching instinctively to the band around his wrist. He focuses on the feelings to ground himself for a moment before continuing. “I believe that was the promise I made you before- Well, things are hazy- a lobotomy does that to you.”

Enver stops, his glass half raised to his lips as his eyes widen. Nox can nearly see his thoughts, debates. He’s questioning if Orin could have such knowledge, if Orin could keep calm this long in a conversation, if Orin could push down her Urge. Nox gives a lopsided smile as he continues. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. I came back for you- to stand by you. As we are meant to be.”

It only takes a few seconds for Gortash to cross the room, his glass crashing into the golden tray below it, well abandoned; and Nox smiles, allowing his shirt collar to be grasped tightly in the duke’s hands. Gortash crowds his space, leering at him. There’s venom in his expression, but just below that lies hope.

“Prove it or die.”

How many times had Orin tried this? How many times did she dangle Nox in front of Enver? Did she pretend to return to him just like this? Or simply take his form to berate the tyrant lord? The thought makes the teifling’s blood boil. But he will save that rage for later.

Nox huffs out a chuckle, “If I were Orin, I would have my fucking dagger, and this goddamn tadpole wouldn’t be in my head, Enver.”

His words are enough, and Gortash yanks the collar of his shirt forward until they are pressed against each other, their lips colliding in a rough, forceful kiss that dissolves into desperation. For Nox, it’s familiar and new all at once as if he were acting out a scene he had only seen in a play; he knew Enver’s taste, his smell, the way he was rough and gentle all at once. Yet, feeling it rather than seeing it through a haze of lost memories and confusion was enough to make his knees weak.

“You have a tadpole in your head. You gods damned idiot.” Enver smiled against his lips, words devoid of venom. His hands move up to cup Nox’s face, warm gold of Gortash’s gauntlets pressing against his cheeks. “I have missed you so, my dearest.”

“I missed you, too.” Nox chuckles, and his cheeks warm up as if the words were meant to stay inside his mind- as if he was supposed to be ashamed by such thoughts, but the way Enver pulls him closer makes him think perhaps it is okay not to be ashamed about some things. Perhaps, whatever lingering worry circles in his mind from before does not matter anymore.

#I am obsessed with them being so soft to each other and so terrible to everyone else #they’re evil your honor #durgetash #drabble #the dark urge #enver gortash #the dark urge x enver gortash #goretash #bg3 #fic #oc: Nox #someone posted what if lordling was durges affectionate term for gortash that Orin uses to mock his loss #and I’m obsessed #cats thoughts

[nin-deer]

Ch 143

i mean i think we all knew deep down the kiss was gonna happen based on the flow of the story but i think this chap reveals a lot about gorou and sarina

(uh warning this got a little out of hand so its pretty long lmao)

so.

i dont think anyone's completely in the wrong, but i definitely don't think they're in the right either. (not that i condone incest; its just that their motivations led them to this specific point. would the story have been fine without it? hell yeah. please i actually prefer it that way. but this is the direction the author decided to take it, so we have to take it as it is as a point of learning more about the character's motivations)

Let's first analyze sarina and gorou's relationship pre-reincarnation. I think I covered this in my last post where I rambled about onk, but gorou is doing a doctor thing where he "accepts" sarina's proposal just to make her happy. We learn in this new chapter that he basically catered to her every request, and that's what started that infatuation. we know from previous chapters that her bio family's shitty, so the only place she would get this love is from gorou. we also learn in this chapter that it's not actually a romantic love but a fanatic love, for lack of better terms. she sees him as her idol. does sarina even know what it feels to be romantically in love with someone? she spent her whole first life in a hospital, isolated from others her age. she spent her second life very curated and protected because of her mom and her future career; she couldn't really live a normal life. (we'll get back to this point later) all she knows about love is through her idols, so she's channeling it into (what she thinks is) romantic love for gorou.

gorou, on the other side of this, is an actual adult who had an actual life before all this, so he knows what a normal life is like. assuming sarina is one of his first patients, its obvious to see that he got attached, which is a very risky situation for scenarios like this. we see this attachment made her death worse, as he threw himself into following Ai to cope for her death. not gonna go too in depth about this here because, again, i made another post for this that i'll probably link at the end bc im referencing it more than i thought... continuing! he knows sarina doesnt have long left so he wants to do what he can for her, thus creating that "idol" persona sarina has for him.

we see in his regret in this new chap that he actually knows what he's doing and is aware of the consequences of his actions. ruby doesn't. she doesn't regret anything. as someone who reads a lot of isekai/reincarnation stories, its easy to joke that ruby and aqua are their old age + their new age, but that isn't necessarily true for ruby. sure, aqua is old and this could apply to him. but ruby? she didn't make it past 18 before she died. she's like,,, 13 times 2. double 13. she never fully developed in her first life, and she's developing in this current life. it's like a continue from where she left off. aqua actually was an adult, so he has all the knowledge and wisdom of an adult. why does this matter? shift your attention back to the concept of love for a bit. aqua knows what she's doing is bad and is trying to stop her, but the knowledge that she's sarina is making him automatically succumb to her wishes. a part of his brain, because of the trauma, still sees ruby as the sickly sarina he was caring for.

ruby is naïve. she doesnt know what love is. all the love she's ever been exposed to is whatever she saw online: idols. i dont even think she fully knows what the concept of family is. aqua is her brother? nope. aqua is the doctor she proposed to and now she has a chance to follow through like all the shows she's seen. she's closer than ever to him, so why give up the chance? even as ruby, she wasn't exposed to a lot of normalcy because of idol culture. she isn't able to learn about the difference between platonic love and fanatic love. we even see this with ai, who she sees more as an idol than her mom. the joy is in her idol being her mom, someone who's supposed to care for her. it's like shes living a fantasy made just for her. because aqua was so obsessed w revenge, he didn't have the chance to teach her anything, and it's not like he needed to learn bc he already knows. ruby doesn't.

aqua, as the one who understands these nuances, should have sat her down and explained things, but he didn't because of the trauma of sarina. ruby is ignorant and is treating things like a tv drama, now that her dreams as sarina can finally become true. aqua doesn't realize how serious ruby is about this because in his mind this is just a child playing house. ruby is like,,,, imagine you die and you wake up actually being sold to one direction. or whatever happens to you in your fav self-insert scenario/fanfic. idk a better analogy lmao but its like finally being able to play out your fantasies irl. she doesn't realize the real world impacts of her actions because, frankly, she doesn't care. she gets to live out her life as she wants. aqua was shocked after the first kiss with ruby because he realized then she was being serious, but he didn't speak out about it because, again, the trauma™. (we see him again uncomfy with the whole situation in the next page, but his lack of objection could be bc it's a scene in the documentary and he finds it more important to get revenge rn) ruby kissed him then because she purposefully created the mood like that so it would fit in the story she was writing in her mind.

so what does this mean? because of their shared pasts, aqua and ruby are put in this situation where ruby can do what she wants and aqua goes along with it. even if he knows its morally wrong, he can't bring himself to break ruby's immersion in all of this. BUT. big but. aqua shouldn't act like this. they're both capable of living out their lives as normal (barring the revenge and the whole idol stuff). he doesn't need to act like this anymore; ruby's not terminally ill. he's not a doctor. what he should have done was firmly deny her stuff he knows is wrong because then he can educate her about the reason why. as much as their personalities are inspired by their past lives, sarina and gorou are dead. they need to move on and live a aqua and ruby. (Harsh, I know, but because of this scenes like *gestures vaguely to the newest two chapters* happens. if aqua stood his ground and taught ruby about familial love and that what she's feeling is probably not romantic, i think this could have been avoided. but alas, we need it for the ~drama~)

-

sorry that went on way longer than i thought lmao. i think i covered everything i wanted to say but im too lazy to read back so fingers crossed

if you made it this far and are curious about the other post i mentioned in the beginning, its here. i just think its some context to my thought process but not necessary to understand this post

#my writing #oshi no ko #oshi no ko spoilers #onk ch 143 #jasdlkflsdkajfh #why did it take me longer to find that first post #than deciding to make this post #anyways #lots of thoughts #none coherent #i wasnt planning on doing this so sorry if its too jumpy #i just finished reading the chap and #i had the urge #man i was living glass half full #then this chap dropped #hopefully it gets addressed #i mean its that last panel that gets me #aqua looks so uncomfortable while ruby is beaming

[teenandbeyond]

hi, this my one of my first requests so i hope im doing this right!

can i request an nsfw senku x fem best friend reader that had similar traits as senku, where they both barely show they’re attracted to anyone, and turns down anyone who has feelings for them. but then they start catching feelings for each other, but both are having a hard time expressing it, and eventually senku is the one to step up? also senku gets a little submissive towards the end of the smut, and reader finds out she likes seeing him like that? sorry if it’s too specific! <3

Senku x Fem. Best Friend Reader

Low-key, I wasn't in a smut-writing mood, so I made it vague xD Edit: This reminds me of my Dr. Stone OC with Senku a little lol

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧪Illogical🧪 (Dr. Stone)

Warning(s): Subtle smut, if petrification didn't happen

When two scientists who find love illogical catch feelings...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“It’s [Name]! The Ice Queen!”

You sigh, sauntering down the hall.

“There goes that name again…” you mutter.

Why do they call you that?

 

“H-Hey, [Name]?” a boy approaches you, averting his gaze.

“Mm?” you acknowledge, disinterested as you work on your current project in biochemistry.

“I’ve liked you since first year, w-will you go out with me?”

With furrowed brows you turn from your notes, “Since first year?”

His smile became hopeful, “Yeah!”

“And you waited until almost the end of our third year to say anything? That’s pretty sad, dude.”

‘Dude’ Attack Used! Fatality!

“Yeah…”

You could be pretty brutal with rejections, which annoyed you when after three years, people didn’t get the hint.

But to be fair, you were a triple threat, crazy smart, mysterious, and you’re beautiful.

And that’s why you were the Ice Queen, brutal with rejections—cold more often than not, and your beauty gave a mysterious air to your vibe.

To make matters worse, Senku was your best friend (who was also brutal with rejection).

So whenever you were together brutality was doubled.

“[Name]! Date me!” a boy nervously bowed, shoving a letter at you.

You raised a brow, “That’s not very original, the last boy did that.”

Senku shared a glance with you, “Creativity really lacks at this school, huh? This is 10 billion percent boring.”

“Really. Trigonometry would be better to waste my time with,” you sighed.

“Um…”

“Is he crying?”

“I should be the one crying, he came up to me out of nowhere with that. I feel attacked.”

The only person who you seemed to be playful around was Senku along with your other two friends at times.

“Is that why you’re rejecting me? Are you with Senku-senpai?”

You tilted your head, “No, neither of us are into the romance thing.”

But really, you were in denial.

Because something had developed, somehow for Senku.

You’d never thought of romance before with anyone.

It scared you, and you knew he was far from your mindset.

So, you pretended it wasn’t there.

Unbeknownst to you, Senku was in the same predicament.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, tearing his gaze from you.

You looked so peaceful as you focused, unaware of the small smile on your face.

He’d never felt like this toward a girl before, he’d always been immune to this feeling.

Yet now, he was staring at you again. And his thoughts were yet again on you instead of his project he was currently working on.

You occupied his mind a lot, especially lately. Like his body decided all his hormones would assault him at full speed suddenly.

He blinked away the thoughts that tried to creep from the corner of his brain he’d shoved them to.

Now, based on general knowledge the both of you knew what it was.

But it was against your logical mindset, you weren’t supposed to have feelings for anyone.

Let alone each other.

And you couldn’t tell the other because you knew they didn’t like romance.

So, there was no way either of you could say anything, not that you knew how to express it anyway.

So, you found yourselves circling around this situation and the tension that began to build.

Then summer was edging closer, you had both planned to go to the same college, but you had another offer that was tempting.

Asked on video-chat one night, “Why do you want to go there all of a sudden?”

You applied face cream to your cheek, “Well, this college offers pretty much all of the same things, only difference is it’d be here in Japan instead of America. So, there wouldn’t be any reason for me to leave. Right?”

That statement echoed in his mind relentlessly for days, it didn’t sit right.

Deep down he knew why, but…he didn’t know if he could tell you.

 

“It’d be weird to not see you every day, though,” you chuckled.

He’d hate that, being limited to video-chat if he wants to see your face.

 

“Me,” he blurted one day.

“Huh? ‘You’, what?”

He looked into your eyes, leaning in,“Your reason to go. You can go for me.”

“Y-you? Why—”

“We both know why, [Name]. It’s ten billion percent pointless to keep dodging it.”

“I…I know. I just—I’m scared…”

“Scared?”

“Well, this is new. And…not logical…emotions are always a scary thing. You don’t have logic to hide behind, you have to be—"

“Human. Yeah, that scares me, too.”

“But…you’re right, we can’t avoid it forever,” you admitted.

The tension became much more apparent as you gazed at each other.

“Senku…”

“[Name]…”

 

You two were like magnets; a sudden pull overcame you.

At first, curious, unsure.

Then as you grew more comfortable, you gained some confidence.

And as scientists, you were definitely fine with asking questions.

“Senku? Is this okay?”

He tossed his head back, before looking down at you, “Yeah, definitely fine.”

And Senku loved to experiment with something he had yet to learn.

“Who would’ve thought the Ice Queen…would be so warm?” he muttered against your back with a smirk.

“Shut—Ah~!”

You saw another side of each other that day.

And you edged close to the end, but couldn’t get that release…

You watched as Senku let out a desperate whimper, something you’d never expected to hear from him.

His cheeks flushed, brows furrowed.

The cute expression was all you needed.

#dr stone senku #senku ishigami #ishigami senku #senku smut #senku x reader #dr. stone x reader #dr. stone

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader

slow burn/enemies to lovers

taglist: @melaninsugababy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @copiasratscheese @wintersnnowie

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part.

warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point | HERE), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity

disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: [worth it] last

You were more than happy to get out of that uniform. Casual clothes were never more comfortable than they were now. You packed up everything and stared at your empty room before exiting and following Ghost, crate in hand, to a car. He put the cat in the backseat and opened the door for you. 

Sitting giddily in the passenger seat, you can't help but smile as you drive off of the base that has been your home for months now. If someone would have told you transferring to the 141 would result in this, you'd have slapped them silly. Punched them in the face for even insinuating that. 

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just... happy," you sighed. "Happy."

"Good," he nodded. "Me... too."

--

You directed him to your house - well, your small, boring apartment. It was awkward at first. Partly because he made sure to study everything you owned and everything about your place. He studied the two exits and made sure your windows were able to be locked. You assumed it was his way of learning you better, so you let it be. You tried to tour him around your tiny place, but he shook his head, determined to learn it on his own. But you found it funny how he had to duck when walking into the door, into the hallway, the bathroom, etc. The apartment ceilings were low, unfortunately. You never had issues and didn't even think about this until you brought him here. You sure as hell forgot to mention your full-size bed - compared to his California king, it was tiny.

-

The size of your bed didn't matter when you were making love. You were as close to him as you could get, even though you literally wanted to be under his skin - cuddling wasn't enough.

The size of your couch didn't matter when you were splayed across him while he lay on it.

As small as your home was, it was better with him there, but you honestly couldn't wait to go back to his. You preferred it there.

-

Buddy was shy at first, hiding for the first few days. You set up its litter box and food bowl, along with a spare pet bed you happened to have. He soon started getting accustomed and coming out for Simon more. It was cute how he said 'no' to having the cat but they've clung to each other. 

-

Weeks go by fast. Every day was becoming routine, brushing your teeth together, and eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with each other. Enjoying the same shows, recommending each other books. Showering together, bathing together even though it was quite cramped. Staying up late with each other talking about random things that came to mind, or, rather, you become a philosopher sometimes late in the night.

~

"Simon?" you whispered.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah, luv."

"Okay. Well, I was trying to sleep, but got to thinking."

"Oh my," he went along with your tired nonsense.

At first, it was funny, you tiredly rambling about random facts, world facts, conspiracy theories, the works. He listened to your rambles, your very groggy, quick mumbles about nonsense. But it quickly turned into him helping you fall asleep, your brain was moving faster than your mouth, becoming hyper. 

He climbed over you lazily, grunting as he shuffled his knees behind your thighs. "Y'sound like you need help getting t'sleep, luv."

"Mm, yeah," you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His lips met yours fervently, softly sucking at your bottom lip. He ground into you, earning a small moan. His hand cupped your face, his fingers rubbed your soft skin as you leaned up begging for more. As you gripped at his tight skin, your hands snaked down his back before scratching up, he deeply grunted as his hands started squeezing your breasts to your hips, to your core. You gasped as his hand slid under your panties, his cold fingers meeting your clit. 

He fingered you until he ripped three orgasms out of you, wetness seeping, pooling in a spot on the sheets beneath you. He took his pleasure in pleasing you - thoroughly studying your facial expressions as his fingers tactically explored your walls and sweet spots. He'd learned the spots that made you arch your back, the one that made you gasp - opening your mouth with no sound coming out, the one that made you squirt - gushing all over him. 

Finally tiring you out, he went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and got new bedsheets. He helped you to the bathtub where he lovingly washed your sleepy self. As he dried you off and let you dress, he quickly changed the bedsheets for you before guiding you to bed, letting you nuzzle on his chest as you drifted off to sleep.

~

While eating dinner and watching TV, a camping commercial came up, and you two looked at each other, nodding your heads. It was time to head to his place. A good few-hour drive. You finished up the night, packing belongings, and this time, more clothes, able to dress to your style more now, being off. 

The next morning, you coaxed Buddy out of his hiding spot and gave him a treat. "This time you're going home, Bud. No more moving around. I know, I know..." 

After loading up the car, you take a last walk around your apartment, locking the doors and windows. 

--

You could have predicted how careful he'd be while camping, being protective and watchful, keeping weapons on hand - his pistol holstered at his hip and tactical knife easy to grab. He finally freed himself from his mask once he felt comfortable enough with the surroundings, seeming at ease. 

First, you went fishing with him. It was quite boring at first, patience not being much of one of your personality traits. Until finally, you caught a small one. You were proud of yourself but looked to him for approval, and he was already smiling at you. 

"Good job, babe," he walked over to you, helping you undo the hook and then put the fish back in the water. 

As the first night came to an end, you ended the night with smores and a couple of bottles of beer. You talked with Simon about how you never got to experience stuff like this and thanked him for taking you with him.

You cuddled with him in the tent, snuggled up close as the degrees dropped to cold temperatures. Sounds of crickets, cicadas, coyotes, and wildlife soothed you as you were enjoying this new aspect of your life.

--

Love grew deeper as memorable dates with you two continued. It grew deeper as you both catered to each other's love languages. His vulnerability also grew. Something, a part of him you never thought you'd see. Even in the beginning of this, even a sliver of info about him, his secrets, what makes him - him, was a treat, a rare treat. 

Every day was different in all sorts of ways. Some days you were both lazy, understandably so. Some days you were active. Some days were very laughable, others calm, comfortable... quiet. But not the awkward, or unhappy quiet. Not the embarrassing quiet, or the "don't know what to do" quiet. The peaceful, understanding of each other quiet. The appreciating each other quiet. You made a look at him and he'd know what you want, need, or were trying to say. Vice versa. 

Those quiet days were beautiful. The sounds of you both laughing at a movie, the sounds of you breathing. Buddy's pitter-patters across the hardwood floors. The randomness of conversation starters. Cheeky jokes. It all seemed quite natural, something you could get used to. Forever. 

It hits you at random times, that this, this right here, this type of vulnerability, personal moments with Simon was only for the time off. You can imagine yourself being here with him. Waking up to him every day. Going to bed together every night. You knew he wouldn't do it, but you wouldn't mind quitting the military, getting a regular job, and living your life like this with him.  

--

He woke you up in the middle of the night during the last month. Randomly asking you to join him in going to the snowy mountains in Colorado. A little surprised at the randomness, but also too sleepy to answer with a straight mind. 

You were surprised when you woke up to all bags packed.

"Um, what is this?" you asked, pointing to the suitcases.

"Our bags," he answered, tilting his head at you. "Dress warm, luv."

"Okay..." 

--

Though you've had a wonderful time with him so far, it hit you hard when you realized that it's getting too close to the three-month mark. Previously, you'd be excited to go back to work. You didn't know what it was, probably the fact that you'd fallen head over heels for your Lieutenant, but you wanted to stay like this, already missing him in his loving, domestic state. Him. Who he is. 

Getting this far, and learning this much about each other has taught you exactly how much alike you two are. You've always liked nature, but appreciated it more when you got to enjoy it with him. You like being alone, and you can be alone with him. You both had walls built up, slowly letting each other seep into the crevices as you both fell. 

--

Thinking back on everything, you would do everything over again for him. Neither would you change a thing. The tension, the heartache, the pain, the anger... Everything you've been through with and for this man was worth it. Thinking of other ways this could have gone causes you to wince. Wince and shrivel at the thought of not having him. Not having your Simon like that. The loving man you knew now, and wanted to keep around forever. 

--

Proud to say that you've found your groove with each other, by the time you returned back to work...

He never failed to tell you he loved you before and after missions. He never had to distance himself anymore, since he could confide in you. Quite more protective over you, but still enjoys watching you fight and paint yourself red with the blood of your enemies. And now he didn't care about the other members knowing fully. If it wasn't obvious enough, you got princess treatment from the Lieutenant. Price held his hands up, refusing to get in between as long as it didn't interfere with jobs being done.

-

It wasn't until he stabbed a man charging at you, full speed while you were already busy with one fight, that you realized you were quite crazy over him, too. The force behind the swing of the blade against the throat, the quickness of it. The eye contact with you as the body drops, his eyes relaxing while he looks into yours. 

"Fuck, that was hot, Lieutenant," you whispered as he pinches your chin, towering over you before he leads the way out of the building.

Thank you so much for reading!!!! I am grateful for each and every one of you that has taken the time to read this story, and even more grateful if you enjoyed it! I loved writing this story so much, it was a good one! <3

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw ghost #cod mw #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost stories #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price #ghost soap #task force 141 stories #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x you #slow burn #ghostssweetgirl

[octuscle]

Working everyday sucks. I mean is this the life we dreamt of when we were young? I mean I had the choice between knowledge and sports. I chose the academic way but there are days I wish for another chance to decide. Working with my body instead of my brain would be cool. Is there a Chronivac program to solve this problem?

Dude, I understand you so well. I mean, you're in-house counsel at your company, 48 years old…. Got 20 more years to work. The peak of your career is probably right now. Damn it! If you would have made the right decision at the right time… I'll choose the setting "Become younger with simultaneous modification of the past". Means in clear language, you become now each hour a year younger. And at the same time you have dedicated yourself one year more to a career as an athlete. Whether you end up as a gold medal winner, Formula 1 champion or coach of a soccer team in the district league, I can't tell you yet. But I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you.

Friday morning, 6:00 a.m. At this time you feel like an old man. Your back has been better. But trust me, in a few minutes you will feel better. Your mind is already off the weekly meeting in the shower. They're on the runs you're planning for the weekend. By the time you sit down to breakfast at 7:00 a.m. (raw vegetables, sugar-free muesli, low-fat quark), you already feel considerably fitter. You sold your car a year ago. Your new bike was almost as expensive. And now you ride it to the office like every morning.

09:00 a.m., weekly meeting of the department heads. Since you've been doing more sports, you love Casual Friday. Your tight suit pants fit snugly and your rolled-up arms show off your tanned, wiry forearms. Three years of hard training are having an effect. It's certainly helped your career, too. Most of the other department heads are not only fatter than you, they are also much older.

The morning goes well, at lunchtime you can convince your colleagues to have sushi. Normally, they always go out for schnitzel at the brewery on Fridays. Then you would have had to take a salad again. And a non-alcoholic beer. Okay, that would have worked, too. But in the meantime it causes you physical pain to watch how some people maltreat their bodies. As you brush your teeth in the office after lunch, you grin very contentedly in the mirror. You are now 40 years old. But as a rule, everyone thinks you're younger. Triathlon and soccer have gotten you out of your post-college slump over the past eight years. And now you're the departmental Adonis. One of the youngest department heads in the entire group. And an absolute winning smile!

The building empties out at 3:00 pm. But you don't just give your all in sports. When you shut down the computer at 6:00 p.m., all the e-mails have been processed. Yes, you are considered an absolute nerd. And you are. Ever since you graduated with your bachelor's degree 12 years ago, you've been working hard. In sports as well as in your job. Your promotion is only a matter of time. But that doesn't matter. You hang up your suit in your closet, stuff your shirt, shoes and knee socks into your backpack, put on your racing bike outfit and start cycling. You'd like to do another 100 kilometers tonight. Two and a half hours would be a good time… Sometime between 20:00 o'clock and 21:00 o'clock it makes click. You almost lost control of the bike. You are now just under 24 years old. And after graduating from high school, you decided to become a carpenter. The alternative would have been to study law. Like your father, like your grandmother, like your brother. But even though you weren't particularly talented at handicrafts, you wanted to do something completely different. Something physical. And fuck, that was the right decision. Today, at 33, you have your own business, plenty of time for sports, and certainly a much more relaxed life than your brother….

Now the changes come one after the other. The beginning of the transformation quickly reaches your 17th and 16th birthday. And the younger you are at the time of onset, the more serious the effects.

At 11:00 p.m. you lie in bed showered. It was a hard day. But you love your job. In the past, you would have dreamed of a different life. When you started playing soccer at the age of 14, you were already too old for the big career. Well, you were active in the second Bundesliga for a while. But now, as a physiotherapist and fitness trainer at a first league club, you're not dissatisfied. It pays pretty good money. And a bit of the boys' glamour falls on you, too. At least you get around a lot… You fall asleep at the thought.

Alarm clock rings like every day at 06:00 o'clock. You don't give a shit that it's Saturday. Could also be Sunday or Christmas. Drink a liter of water to detox, then run ten kilometers. At 07:30 your physiotherapist comes to the hotel room, 08:30 breakfast with the team. Kickoff for the soccer game is today at 8:30 p.m. Until then, light training, a yoga session and coaching with your social media consultant are scheduled.

Let the haters make fun of the soccer millionaires. You've been fighting for your career since your foot first touched a ball. And you work a hell of a lot harder for success than any armchair farter who studied business, law or mechanical engineering. And that's why you will win today!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #age reduction #male transformation #muscle transformation

[bulbasaur-gone-rogue]

I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO ABOUT MY BLORBOS SO Y’ALL GET IT

(For reference. This is for Aiden and Lambert from the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. All of these can be read with pretty much no knowledge. I went into these freaking blind off of… somewhere. I don’t know. I found them somewhere and went down a rabbit hole.)

I’ve been through all 58 or so pages worth of fanfiction in their tag. Lore-wise, we literally only know a name and vague affiliation on one of em. They’re my poor little meow meows. My silly rabbits.

I went through all those fics and I got like. Six recommendations. These all made me feel some kind of way, or I read them more than once. IN some ORDER!

1. Where I Stand by LadySesame.

Status: complete

Ohhhhhhh what if we were lovers and I thought you were dead and then you got dragged into my home (that I never quite had the courage to invite you back to) completely feral and with clear signs of torture and me n my bros and my (kinda shitty dad who I fight with a lot but he’s genuinely trying but also he’s fucking it up) and one of my brother’s weird boyfriend (who was kind of the only one who knew you existed and mattered to me in any way) had to figure out what the hell to do about all this. And then it gets better but worse before it gets better.

Vampire hunt flashback cool. Dynamic immaculate.

2. The Kaedwen Wolves by Kaerith

Status: incomplete, has not updated since 2021.

HOCKEY AU HOCKEY AU

Hockey aus really have it all. The banter. The rivals. The “we’re just homies. What do you mean I’m sending mixed signals.” The inherent homoeroticism of hockey. The “fellas is it gay to get in a fight on the ice so fast you forget to take your gloves off because some guy called your Good Friend over there a slur and like. I’m not gay or anything but also-”. And also men with muscles and a couple braincells but those only work occasionally. The chemistry.

This one would be tied for first but it’s still really early on and hasn’t updated in. A while.

3. Out of the Night That Covers Me by inexplicifics

Status: complete

Ough we love hurt/comfort and being kind in a world that is determined not to be. I love. Kind men with massive muscles who are so so so self-aware (but sometimes also stick their foot in their mouth real bad) And also terrifying women. I love terrifying women. Uh. Modern au. Everyone’s alive that I can think of.

4. Four Chambers by GilliganGoodfellow

Status: Complete

This one harmed me. It’s the accurate portrayal of grief. Warning for my homies. The Cat stays dead in this one. Had me wrecked for Amounts of Time

Rest of that series also bops and slaps. While I do love Complicated Feelings Towards Vesemir (he’s trying. He was part of an institution of child abuse. He didn’t have power to change anything. He was still part of it. He did the best he could. Maybe it wasn’t enough. He tried. Trying only gets you so far). Papa Vesemir ALSO has a place in my heart.

5. Denial by tnico

Status: complete

Author knows more weird little facts than I do. Scratches my brain. All of their works that I’ve read are stupidly good.

6. A Beginner’s Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code for Fun and Profit by heronfem

Status: incomplete, updating

You know.

#lambden #laiden #aiden the witcher #lambert the witcher