#should i actually flush my idea into a fic when i finish my quarter in two weeks

[misiwrites]

Beyblade Week Day 3

for the third @beybladeweek2021​ oneshot set in the 4kingdoms-verse, i have a silly little story from the west. takes place at some random point before the beginning of the main fic.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Fashion / Flowers / Autumn

“Underplates… napkins… saucers… and the cup handles to the right.”

Mathilda places each piece of the set with meticulous care. After the cups and cutlery are in place, she arranges the jam and cream dish on the tray, and then, of course, the centrepiece of the table, the golden cake stand for the treats.

“Handmade by Sir Olivier!”

She giddily sets the macarons and finger sandwiches on the stand. Then a freshly brewed pot of black tea from the kitchen, and everything is ready to go. Her butterfly heart flutters with nervous excitement as she carefully lifts the heavy tray and slowly makes her way out of the servants’ quarters. She has to focus on each and every step to avoid making any silly mistakes that could end up in a tea-stained catastrophe.

It’s a lovely day in early Harvestmoon. Pleasant and still, perfect for having tea outside – not something that could be said about most days in the Country of West, usually so drizzly and grey.

Whatever the weather, Mathilda never grows tired of the beauty of the Tiger Maple Palace, and although acting as a maid isn’t exactly part of the royal page’s routine and the tray is so heavy that it leaves her arms sore, it’s an honour to be asked to serve afternoon tea to her favourite guests at the palace, Lady Chen Mao and her handmaid Julia from the mansion on Kuí.

She finds them under a canopy of branches of blazing orange and yellow, hunched over some papers and magazines on the patio floor. Mao’s holy beast companion, Galux, is having a nap on its designated cushion a few feet away.

“But there are so many different types of zan zi… Oh, look, the tea has arrived!”

Mao is stunning as always. The wide sleeves of her blue-and-orange ruqun dress billow along as she jumps to her feet; she wears her rose colour hair on two long braids today, their shape resembles chains of traditional Western paper lanterns, and Mathilda has no doubt that the style is in accordance with the latest trends of high fashion in this kingdom. The handmaid, Julia, is more composed than Mao and rises to her feet with more dignity, politely nodding at Mathilda who approaches them with the tray.

“Good afternoon, Lady Mao, Miss Fernández,” Mathilda greets them, her cheeks slightly flushed. Relief washes over her as she successfully lands the tray on the garden table. No casualties this time, and the tea is still hot.

“Hi, Matty! Is it okay if I call you Matty? It was Julia’s idea.” Like a robin, Mao soars over to the table, then quickly turns to face her handmaid. “Jules, bring the papers here so we can keep planning while eating.”

When Mao is distracted instructing Julia, Mathilda hurries over to pull a chair out for her. “Um, um, feel free to call me as you wish, milady.”

“Aren’t you one considerate sweetheart, Matty! And how lovely the tea looks! Are these macarons by Olivier again? He’s such a weirdo – I’ve never heard of a knight who’s also a cook before, not to mention a damn pastry chef! Sword in one hand, a rolling pin in the other, how reassuring.”

Mathilda says nothing; hearing Mao talk about her master in such a manner always makes her ears burn, but she can’t not admire her audacious nature all the same. That boyish edge in Mao’s behaviour must have rubbed off on her from her older brother, the Duke of Kuí, whom Mathilda has always found nothing short of intimidating.

As Julia joins Mao, Mathilda can see that the papers she has brought along include several volumes of fashion-related magazines and what look like blueprints for a fashion design project of some sort. She tries not to snoop too much, not wanting to cross her boundaries as an outsider, but she hasn’t even finished pouring the two cups full when Mao is already deliberately pulling her into the conversation.

“So about the zan zi – I was thinking I’d want it to follow the flower theme, but I don’t really want there to be too much gold… you know… and a chai would be a bit meh… Matty, what  kind of hair ornaments do you like?”

“Me? Oh…” Mathilda, who always wears her hair short and simple, racks her brain for an answer of any substance. “Well, um… um... Oh, I went to the Tianguan market square earlier this week, and there was a stall with wonderful flower zan zi from the East… made of fabric… The vendor said that they were created to commemorate the Seiryuu-ou’s late mother… They looked very lovely.”

“From the East? That’s an amazing idea!” Mao darts a triumphant look at Julia across the table. “That’s really unique! You should go check them out with Matty.”

“Of course, milady.”

“But tea comes first, obviously.”

Mathilda ends up spending a long while with the other girls in the garden, leafing through the magazines and following along in curious silence as they (mainly Mao, although she clearly holds Julia’s opinions about fashion in high regard) build their design piece by piece, element by element, carefully considering each detail to complement the big picture. Mao is sketching the design on paper herself as they go, and it’s obvious to Mathilda that she’s quite used to doing this kind of thing.

“Lady Mao,” she asks after a while, “are you perhaps planning to launch your own fashion line? A whole catalogue? You are very good at design.”

“Wow, thank you! You know, that’s actually an amazing idea!” Mao claps her hands together in excitement, her golden eyes positively sparkling at Mathilda. “Let’s make a whole line! This lotus daxiushan can be the first one. Oh, oh, Jules, we need to do the hair next!”

“Glad you brought that up, milady, I actually have several styles bookmarked that I thought you might like.” Julia whips out a HoloPad, and soon the mid-air above the tea set is filled with an array of images of the most intricate braidwork that Mathilda has ever seen, so fantastical that it’s hard to believe that these are photos of real people’s hair. (Perhaps they are not.)

“Oh my cats. Jules, you are the best.”

Mathilda chuckles in content and delight, her hands nested in her lap. These two girls are so entertaining and so eccentric, she never knew the nobles could be this fun. She enjoys their company so much – perhaps a bit too much, even, for someone in her position...

But, for now, she decides to simply go with the flow and worry about it later.

 * * *  * * *

 “Mao, what is this?”

“Shhh! Stop talking, you’re ruining the image! Stay totally still. Be like... what was the word again? Esoteric! You need to look esoteric, Rei-nii.”

Rei has no idea how a person is supposed to look esoteric, especially when he’s forced to stand still while posing in whatever unnatural stances Mao keeps coming up with, currently holding what he thinks is some sort of traditional brass instrument but the name of which he has no idea about.

The only reason he even agreed to a fashion photoshoot was that it’s Mao’s birthday and he wanted to please his childhood friend – but he wasn’t aware that in doing so, he agreed to a day-long session of acting as a doll designed by Mao and her handmaid, in a studio that they have somehow managed to build inside one of the pavilions of Tiger Maple, complete with several landscape backdrops.

It’s not that the clothes Mao is making him wear are bad; in fact, this outfit of a burgundy yichang dress and a dark blue daxiushang robe with a serpent-like lotus pattern adorning the broad yet lightweight sleeves feel rather comfortable in comparison to his usual formal robes that have an unnecessary abundance of coating, thanks to whoever in the past decided that the number of layers was a status symbol and therefore imposing a life sentence of drowning in a sea of layered silk upon the Byakko-ou... but the uncomfortably tight lace braids winding around his skull to form an enormous rosette of hair in the back of his head are a bit too much, as are the flower hairpins that nest above his temples and create a drooping curtain of red and white petals to frame his face; and, after several hours have already gone by, his arms and feet are beginning to hurt from standing still while holding whatever prop items the girls are sticking in his hands, from parasols to flutes and swords and whatever this newest addition is. He’s not used to standing around this much in his monotonous everyday life.

And even worse, Rei has already seen that Mao has an entire catalogue of self-made fashion concepts waiting that she wants to take pictures of him in.

The smallest of sighs escapes Rei’s lips. This doesn’t feel appropriate for his status. Incredible but true, he wishes he was instead having tea with Olivier right now.

“Stay still!” Mao immediately condemns him, “And stop looking so bored! You need to look more dramatic. You’re the king, Rei-nii, act more like it.”

What a long, long day this would end up being.

#my writing #4kingdoms stuff #LetItRip2021

[livesincerely]

dress you up, dress you down ch. 2 - the clothes make the man

aka the Tie Fic. Chapter one here.

Also on Ao3

00000

It’s early Monday morning. Davey is working on coaxing Les into his school uniform when there’s a knock on the bedroom window.

“Jack!” Les greets, the untucked tails of his shirt flapping behind him as he rushes over to open it.

“Hey, bud,” Jack says, climbing in from the building’s fire escape with easy grace. “How’s it hangin’?”

“What are you doin’ here?”

“I’m workin’ on some cartoons for Joe today, but I hadta come pick up some stuff from Dave before I head over.”

Les’ expression brightens. “Oh, you mean your new suits and stuff?”

“Got it in one,” Jack confirms, ruffling Les’ hair. “Your brother and Kathy ganged up on me yesterday and made me buy a buncha fancy geddups. They was real serious about it—said it was important for my ‘tential growth as an employee.’”

Jack leans closer, then continues in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think it’s all a waste of dollars, but if it’s important to them I guess it’s important to me.”

“Well it’s real important to David!” Les chirps. “He brought your stuff home but he wouldn’t even let me look at it. He hung it all up in the back of our closet and told me if I touched anything he’d murder me!”

“Well, they did cost a fair chunk of change,” Jack says slowly, blinking several times in rapid succession. “And I’m pretty sure if they got ruined before I hadda chance to wear ‘em out, Kath would kill us all.”

“Go brush your teeth,” Davey tells Les. “Jack needs to get ready.”

“But I wanna see the fancy geddup,” Les whines.

“You can see it when he’s dressed,” Davey says. “Brush your teeth.”

“But—“

“Go!”

Les lets out a huff but finally does as he’s told. Davey turns to Jack.

“The garment bag’s all the way in the back on the left,” Davey informs him, waving a hand towards the closet.

He goes to follow Les out of the room to give Jack some privacy but he only gets as far as grabbing the door handle before Jack’s voice pipes up behind him with, “Wait, where are ya goin’?”

Davey’s brow furrows. “I’m letting you get dressed.”

“But you gotta get dressed too,” Jack says with a frown, gesturing at the pajamas that Davey’s still wearing. “Distribution opens in a hour.”

“Oh, well, I was gonna wait for you to finish,” Davey explains.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jack says, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna make you late. Just go ahead and change, don’t mind me.”

Davey hesitates. “If you’re sure it’s okay...”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Dave, you’ve seen the Lodging House—it ain’t exactly private quarters. If it don’t bother you it don’t bother me.”

Well, actually, it bothers Davey quite a lot, though probably not for the reasons Jack thinks. But he’s not sure how to excuse himself without seeming suspicious so he swallows down his reservations and steps more fully back into the room.

Jack unearths the garment bag and works the clasps open. Davey catches a glimpse of soft cottons and sturdy wools and feels his cheeks getting warm—just the thought of what’s to come is enough to send his heart racing. He takes a steadying breath, then throws open the trunk at the foot of his bed and starts looking through it for a clean set of clothes.

His only plan is to get changed as quickly and quietly as possible. So naturally Jack choses this moment to strike up a conversation. 

“So how’d your meetin’ go?” Jack asks. Davey instinctively turns towards the sound of his voice and is treated to the long expanse of Jack’s bare back as he wriggles out of his shirt.

“...What?” Davey says. His voice sounds distant to his own ears.

“Your meetin’?” Jack repeats. He lets his shirt fall to the floor at his feet, his hands dropping down to start undoing his belt buckle. “Didn’t you and Albie have a thing last week? Down by the water?”

It takes Davey a moment to shake off his stupor. Flushed and flustered, he quickly whirls back around but it feels like the sight’s been seared into the space behind his eyes. Good god.

“Oh, right, of course,” Davey stammers out, keeping his gaze fixed carefully on the wall in front of him as he fumbles through unbuttoning his pajama top. “Yeah, it went well. Better than I thought it would, anyway. We still need to figure a few things out but we’re off to a good start.”

“And Brooklyn didn’t give you no trouble?” Jack questions. “Spottie was nice and hospitable?”

“It was fine Jack,” Davey says, and the familiar banter is working wonders on calming his frazzled nerves. “Spot and Hotshot stopped by and checked in with us, just to make sure we were being honest and keeping to the agreement and all that, but they mostly left us alone.” Davey folds up his pajamas and leaves them in a neat stack on his bed, slips on a clean pair of underwear, then steps into his selling pants and fastens them up. “Honestly, I think they were... not happy, exactly, but proud? Honored? It’s a respect thing, right?”

“Well, ya only get asked to be neutral territory if everyone else trusts ya to play fair,” Jack explains. “So, yeah, it’s a sign of respect. But Brooklyn’s always been real particular ‘bout who’s all allowed to cross the bridge, so they don’t usually do it—I still can’t believe Spot agreed to play host for ya.”

“It helps that I can get through a conversation with him without picking a fight,” Davey comments lightly as he works his arms into his shirt sleeves. “Unlike certain others I could name.”

“I still say he started it,” Jack responds, and Davey doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting.

“Uh huh,” Davey says. “Sure he did.”

“Hey, now,” Jack says, grabbing at the hem of Davey’s shirt and tugging him around to face him. In the time since Davey’s last looked he’s put on his pants and suspenders, his shirt done up but only partially tucked in. He should be easier to deal with now that he’s covered up, but the disheveled, partially dressed look is somehow just as enticing as the bare skin. It’s honestly not fair. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m always on your side,” Davey says, perhaps a little too sincerely, feeling a touch lightheaded. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t call you out. And you definitely started it last time.”

“He’s been mackin’ on Racetrack!” Jack says, and he’s adorably grumpy about it. “I can’t just let that go!”

“They’re dating, Jack,” Davey reminds him for the thousandth time. “Obviously they’re gonna be holding hands and kissing and whatever else—you might as well get used to it. And regardless,” Davey pokes Jack in the chest, a gentle scolding, “you shouldn’t be letting your personal feelings about Spot affect your dealings with Brooklyn. You’re supposed to be professional, mister Union President.”

“It’s Racetrack,” Jack insists. “It’s my god-given right to give his boyfriend,” Jack makes a face as he says the word because he’s ridiculous, “a hard time. It ain’t my fault Spottie’s got such a short fuse.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to handle business with Brooklyn anymore,” Davey says, and he’s trying for disapproving but he can feel the start of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Worth it,” Jack says, utterly unapologetic. Davey just shakes his head. Jack’s bad enough now when it’s just Racer—he can only imagine how overprotective Jack’ll be if Crutchie decides he’s interested in dating too.

Davey finishes buttoning his shirt, then leans down and starts digging around in his trunk for a pair of socks and a set of suspenders.

“Hey, but back to your meetin’,” Jack starts after a moment, picking up the previous conversation where they left off. “You know who you really needta talk to? There’s a kid over in Flushing—I don’t think you’ve met him yet, name’s Paulie—but he’s got crazy connections with somma the dock workers. One time he managed ta—” 

Jack stops mid word, a sudden, sharp inhale interrupted by a series of coughs.

“You alright?” Davey calls over his shoulder, still searching.

“Uh, yeah,” Jack says, an odd note in his voice. “Just, uh, swallowed wrong, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Davey says, absently. He straightens up, then frowns when he realizes he’s grabbed a pair of Les’ socks instead of his own. He throws them aside, then bends back over his trunk, rifling even more vigorously through the assortment of clothes. 

Jack mutters something under his breath, too quietly for Davey to make out the words.

“What was that?” Davey asks, finally coming up with the right items. 

“Nothin’,” Jack says, head ducked low as he buttons up his vest. It’s a little hard to tell, but it looks like he’s gone a bit pink in the face. “I just⁠— it was nothin’.”

Davey watches him for a moment longer, brow furrowed. But when Jack doesn’t say anything else, he goes back to his task, pulling on his socks and carefully tucking his shirt into his pants. 

“How’s that?” he asks Jack, turning slowly in place. “Did I miss any spots?”

“Lookin’ good Dave,” Jack says with a smile. “Here, hold still,” he continues, patting at Davey’s hip with one hand and picking up the end of his suspenders with the other. “I’ll fix you up.”

“Oh, thanks,” Davey says tentatively. 

Jack steps in close, his knuckles brushing against the small of Davey’s back as he clips his suspenders into place. Davey swallows heavily around a suddenly dry throat, trying his hardest not to think about how he can feel Jack’s body heat like a tangible weight along his spine, how there’s the barest whisper of Jack’s breath tickling at the nape of his neck. 

He hopes Jack can’t hear the hitch in his voice as he asks, “So what are you working on today?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothin’ much,” Jack says. “Just some line work, and maybe sketching out some ideas for the Friday edition.”

“Is your, uh, desk mate still stealing your drafting pencils?” Davey asks. 

“He sure is, the prick,” Jack answers. “Which is so damn annoying⁠—it ain’t like they don’t give us plenty.” His hands slide up over Davey’s waist: “Turn around for me.”

Davey obediently turns. “Maybe you should call him out,” he offers.

“Maybe I should stab him in the neck with his stupid compass,” Jack says with a snort. He follows the line of Davey’s suspender straps up over his shoulders and down to the front of his pants, clipping the other pair of buckles into place. “There, you’re all set.”

“Great,” Davey says, his eyes flitting across Jack’s face. He’s very handsome. He’s very close. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jack says, his voice a little husky. His fingers are still curled around the straps of Davey’s suspenders. “Happy to help.”

“Right,” Davey breathes out. 

“Right,” Jack echoes.

They stare at each other.

“I should, uh, grab my vest,” Davey says, clearing his throat. His pulse is pounding in his ears. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jack says as he shuffles back a couple of steps, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. I’ll just⁠, I’ll finish doing… over here.” 

Davey spends a long while shaking the wrinkles out of his vest, then pulls it on with clumsy limbs. He smooths his hands nervously down the front of it, then pretends to pick away a few pieces of lint, just to give himself another minute to calm his fluttering heart. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

For a brief moment there’s no noise except the rustling of fabric and the sounds of the city drifting in from the open window. Then Jack calls, his voice tinged with a hint of alarm, “Uh… Dave? Help.”

Davey glances over. Jack’s made an attempt at putting on his tie and it’s ended in absolute disaster, the collar of his shirt crumpled beneath a too tight and incredibly tangled knot.

“What on earth did you do?” Davey asks, his lingering embarrassment burnt away by sheer bafflement. 

“I thought I had it handled!” Jack says. He tries to pick the knot loose, but only manages to make things worse. “Christ, these things are death traps.”

“Stop, or you’re gonna strangle yourself,” Davey says, smacking Jack’s hands out of the way. “Just let me⁠—”

Davey reaches up, undoing the mess of a knot with deft fingers, then expertly re-ties the strip of red silk into a perfect four-in-hand.

“There,” Davey says, carefully tucking the tails under Jack’s suit vest, then folding the sides of his shirt collar back down into place. “How’s that?”

“‘S good,” Jack says.

“Not too tight?” Davey checks just to be sure, noting the raspiness of Jack’s voice. He adjusts the knot one more time, then presses a neat little dimple right in the center of it. “I can do it again if it doesn’t feel right⁠—”

“No, it’s great, Dave,” Jack says lowly, and his hand closes around Davey’s own so that their hands are clasped together over Jack’s sternum. Startled, Davey’s eyes dart up to meet Jack’s and their gazes catch and linger⁠ again with that same soft, simmering intensity from earlier. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” Davey says hoarsely⁠, held captive by Jack’s stare. He almost can’t breathe around the pressure building somewhere deep in his chest; Jack somehow feels even closer than he had before, all dark eyed and broad shouldered and just far too much for Davey to handle. “Good, that’s…” Davey swallows, licks his lips, and tries to think of something to say that isn’t absolutely asinine. “I’m glad.”

An expression flickers across Jack’s face, too quickly for Davey to identify. Then his hand curls more firmly around Davey’s, and Davey can feel the warmth of his skin, the callouses on his palms. Jack takes a breath, opens his mouth to speak⁠—

“David!” Les shouts as he bursts back into the bedroom. Davey jolts away from Jack like he’s been burned, his hands dropping back to his sides. Jack’s mouth clicks shut⁠⁠—whatever he might’ve been about to say is lost. “Davey, stop hogging Jack! You already saw the fancy geddup, I wanna see too⁠⁠—”

He skids to a sudden halt, his eyes going wide. “Wow, Jack, you look swell! Like a real, pr’fessional artist.”

“Hey, I’m already an artist,” Jack counters playfully, though there’s a hint of tightness around his mouth. “All this stuff is just window dressing, ya hear?”

“Yeah, but now you look all serious and business-y and confident,” Les stresses. “Like you actually know what you’re doing.”

Jack laughs. “That’s just the clothes talkin’, bud,” he says. “Believe me, I ain’t gotta clue what I’m doin’ most the time. ‘S what I keep Davey around for⁠, to make sure at least somebody knows what the hell is going on.”

“Well, I think you look nice,” Les declares, like that’s the final word on the matter. He looks at Davey and says, “Mama says we gotta leave soon or we’ll be late.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Davey answers. Les nods, then skips away to put on his shoes and hat.

“I guess I should head on out,” Jack says, wandering towards the still-open window. “I’ll see you in a few hours⁠—”

“Jack Kelly, you are not going down the fire escape in your brand new suit,” Davey says, exasperated. “You can walk out the front door with us like a normal human being.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Jack says with a grin, but he slides the window shut and dutifully comes back over. Once he’s close enough, Davey elbows him in the ribs. “Ow, what was that for⁠—?”

“Stop talking down on yourself,” Davey huffs. “You don’t give yourself enough credit⁠.”

“Or maybe I give myself exactly enough credit,” Jack counters. 

“Oh, please,” Davey says, rolling his eyes. “I know you’ve got a functioning brain in that head of yours⁠, you don’t need me to be successful⁠—you’ll get by on your own merits.”

“My own merits, huh?” Jack says with a rueful smile. “You make it sound so easy, Dave.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Davey says. “But I also know that if you really wanted something, you’d figure out a way to get it.”

“But, see, there’s a lotta things I want,” Jack says, and he’s gone a bit quiet in his contemplation. “Probably too many things. I ain’t figured out how to get hardly any of ‘em, and especially not the most important things.”

“But you will,” Davey says. “I’m sure you will.”

Jack stares at him, and for a split-second Davey can see the raw yearning in his eyes for... whatever his latest dream is. Davey hopes he finds it, even as his heart lurches at the thought of some new, Santa Fe-esque fantasy stealing Jack away, maybe permanently this time. 

“God, I hope so,” Jack breathes.

00000

Chapter three here

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #the tie fic #tease series #it's all about the flustered desperate YEARNING babes

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Seven

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: *checks watch* Well well well, look at the time! Friday already?! I hope you're all doing well, and I hope you all like this installment. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut @walkerchick007 @peggers-n-beggers @robbinholland

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment deals briefly with perceived self-worth, and contains certain dialogue/terminology/viewpoints that may be detrimental to individuals who have suffered emotional, sexual, or physical abuse. Stay safe!]

Acquiring a first edition of anything in this day and age had never been a simple task, so it was awe-inspiring to have a book that was not only a first edition, but one that your artwork graced the pages of.

You stared at the cover for longer than you meant to, your fingers rubbing over the embossed name that sat small and unassuming beneath Ezra's lavishly showy pseudonym. With illustrations by…

You almost felt like your ordinary moniker was out of place, but after looking at it for a moment, you decided it was exactly where it belonged.

"I am about to be overcome with emotion." Ezra informed Thomas in a hushed tone. 

The publisher heaved a heavy sigh at the other man's antics before getting to his feet, his hand outstretched. A small smile played over his mouth, probably one of relief to finally be free of your companion. "You've done it. Congratulations. It debuts on the digital platforms tomorrow, and physical copies ship next week." 

Ezra shook his hand rapidly, then turned to you. "I...I am rendered speechless." He whispered.

"I don't know if anything could claim that lofty honor." You couldn't resist teasing him and he grinned broadly. 

He rested his forehead against your own momentarily, ever cautious not to crowd you. "I am truly a better man for having known you, gentle soul." He murmured fervently. He took your hands, the book clasped tightly between the two of you. "These hands that have helped me in the mornings, that have drawn the man I could have been, that have delivered me from my deadly trials...now, see the fruits of your labor."

"Pretty sure you mean your labor." You corrected him. "I had the easy job."

Ezra shook his head. "Our labor." He was looking at you so warmly, his brown eyes crinkled at the edges from how hard he was smiling-

Kevva help you, did you want to...kiss him?

You had no time to ruminate on the sudden thought. Mr. Anglio cleared his throat and the spell was broken, Ezra exclaiming in juvenile delight that this was cause for celebration.  

You nodded absently, feeling off-kilter. It was as though a switch of comprehension had been flipped in your mind. You did want to kiss him.

…

You wanted a lot of things, you were quickly realizing. 

You wanted to sketch every sleepy smile Ezra graced you with over his mug in the morning. You wanted to be the only one to make his tea just right. You wanted to sit with him for hours in the kitchen or living room, letting him bounce ideas off of you.

The two helmets perched on the mantelpiece taunted you every time you glanced at them because you wanted to be part of a pair, more than a simple partner or roommate.

And it was terrifying. 

You started searching for your own apartment even though the idea of living alone filled you with trepidation. He had said you were welcome for as long as you wanted, but now...the situation had changed. You couldn't handle living in such close proximity to him if your brain was hellbent on doing things like this. 

It wasn't fair to him for you to want something like...that. For you to want anything at all from him.

You were ashamed of the way you had to tear your eyes off of him. You felt like an intruder, a thief, a scavenging floater hoping for opportune jetsam. You hid away in your room whenever he was around, claiming that inspiration had struck and fumbling to dissuade his childlike enthusiasm when he asked to see your 'new works'. Little did he know that you erased most of what you drew.

You were infatuated with an idea, in love with the picturesque plastic pornography that your mind had conjured, you told yourself sternly. Life wasn't perfect, and no one, let alone someone who had endured as much as Ezra, would be interested in the pitiful gift of your affection. In your own eyes you were dirty, your body forever stained with the invisible mark of abusive handling.

You didn't even know if you wanted to be intimate with someone again! Worse yet, you were uncertain if you would be able to, or if Damon's treatment had so utterly broken you that you would be reduced to nothingness if you ever deigned to attempt.

You should have been happy. The book (Aurelac And I: An Audacious Tale Of Greed In The Green) was performing remarkably well. Ezra had woven a lucrative story with just enough realism, fact and fiction carefully melded into a seamless narrative that appealed to everyone from grizzled floaters to cushy Central socialites. You should have been happy. You were set financially for the rest of your life even without the book. 

You should have been happy.

Yet all it took was him giving you a tousled, sleepy smile over his morning cup of coffee or tea and discontent fairly devoured you, turning your insides to knots. Your longing was sharp to the point of agony, an ever-present ache in your chest that you weren't certain any amount of distance would quell.

But you could try. 

So you prepared to leave, wavering between resolute and terrified while you tried to articulate yourself.

You had survived the Green. You knew you would survive this. 

…

Despite his predisposition towards prattling, Ezra was remarkably perceptive. You sometimes wondered if he used his rambling nature as a screen to observe reactions, instead of to actually carry on a legitimate conversation. 

He didn't miss a trick, coming to knock on your door one afternoon as you finished packing up your meager items. Even though you had lived in this room for several stands, you had yet to clutter the space, really make it your own. Maybe you had always suspected this would be temporary, maybe...maybe you knew better than to assume you would be anywhere for an extended period of time.

Fantasizing about having a real life with Ezra...wishful thinking, indulgence of the highest caliber. You blinked back your tears, shoved the backpack off the side of the bed, and went to open your door.

"Gentle soul, I have brought you sustenance! Now please, I beg, unlatch from the fickle teat of your creative muse to indulge with me." The former prospector implored from the doorway of your room, shaking a small paper bag at you. 

The scent of the sopaipillas in the bag hit your nose and you heard your stomach roar in reply. Ezra quirked a brow as you flushed. "Well, I guess a...a snack wouldn't hurt." You mumbled.

"I have greatly missed your company these past days." Ezra admitted softly after the two of you had posted up on the couch (you clutching your small sketchbook like a shield), his words clawing at your heart. "I feared you must be growin' weary of the burden of my presence."

You nearly choked to death right there, coughing and sputtering. "What? No, of course not! If anything, I'm surprised you're not tired of me!" You replied once you managed to swallow, guiltily thinking of the small knapsack that you had thrown into the space between your bed and the wall. Your plan was to leave a little later this evening, slip out while he was occupied with Serv A/V correspondence. He dedicated a certain amount of time in the early evening to managing his business affairs, currently working to iron a few more things out with Anglio regarding proprietary Serv-reader programs that wanted to port his tale. Hopefully by the time he realized you had left, you would be checked into your temporary quarters.

Ezra opened his mouth to answer you, but a chime at the door cut him off. "Did you order somethin'?" He asked, his face lighting up when you shook your head. "Ah, it must be something of mine then! How tantalizing, I keep forgetting what I've purchased. I love the surprise every time somethin' appears on the stoop." He grinned like a child, bouncing to his feet.

Stay happy for a little while longer, you found yourself begging silently. His smiles warmed you from the inside out and you knew that you would miss them immensely.

You watched as Ezra popped the door open, the man signing for the thick envelope while the courier hovered patiently. "I don't recall…" he trailed off, hip-checking the door closed and ripping the envelope lip with a puzzled expression on his face. 

"Who's it from?" You asked, trying to sound nonchalant. That's not supposed to get here until tomorrow, you reassured yourself. This must just be a coincidence. The envelope did bear a striking resemblance to the ones from your printer, but surely--

Oh no.

You felt your breath hitch as you spotted the return address. You had specifically requested that this delivery arrive tomorrow, you had planned to leave later tonight, oh no! You lunged to snatch the envelope from his hands. "Wait, wait, don't look!" You exclaimed sharply.

Ezra flinched in surprise at your abrupt change in volume, dropping the open envelope as his startled brown eyes flew to yours. Your hard copies spilled out onto the floor, pages flying here and there.

Shit.

"Gentle soul, what is...what is all this?" Ezra asked cautiously when you crouched to start picking the sheets up. "Are you workin' on a new project?"

Your hands trembled as you collected the sheets scattered on the floor at his feet. He knelt after a moment, but you knocked his arm away when he reached for a sheet. "I'm leaving." You whispered. "I made you this to...to try to explain." 

You pressed the stack of pages, now reorganized, into his limp hands. Ezra didn't even look down, his fingers automatically gripping the paper. "What?" His voice was hoarse.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I said, I'm leaving. I made you this to explain." Please don't hate me.

"Gentle soul, I...surely we can engage in some civil discourse about this? Have I done something to vex you?" 

"No, it's not you."

"You'll forgive me if I am not reassured by your statement." He muttered. "I can think of no other reason that you would attempt a covert exodus like a beleaguered Israelite. Should I investigate the kitchen for unleavened bread?"

"I...what?" You asked in confusion. "Bread?"

Ezra groaned, shaking his head. "Never mind." He then asked bluntly, "why are you leaving?" 

You tapped the sheets in his hands, smiling tremulously. "Goodbye, Ezra." With that, you got to your feet and bolted to your bedroom, your face burning with embarrassment. You hated that you anticipated an explosion even after all this time; this was Ezra, not Damon. You picked up your pack and slid on your boots, then hesitantly crept back out.

Ezra was still on the floor. He hadn't moved an inch, just staring down at the pages in his hands. You skittered past him tentatively, but he didn't so much as glance in your direction. This was what you had decided, you reminded yourself while depositing your fob to the apartment on the table next to the door. You had chosen this route. All you could do now was stick to it. The door clicked closed behind you but instead of relief, you felt gut-wrenching sorrow.

Ezra,

It's time for me to leave. I've never been good with words. They always get tangled up inside me.

You popped open the door to the complex stairs in the hallway, sniffling quietly as you began making your way down.

I wish I could tell you in a way that I knew you would understand. I wish I could articulate like you, but all I can do is draw.

You checked the time on your battered watch. You hadn't invested in a new chronometer yet, the bulky square still serving its purpose even with a cracked screen. Perhaps you were too hesitant with your good fortune, you mused, but after having spent so many years carefully scraping and budgeting for every piece of gear, there was bound to be an adjustment period.

So here it is. Ramshackle and hackneyed; everything that you hate. It's got nothing to do with you, so please don't be upset. I just know that I shouldn't stay here any longer. 

Your mind's eye ran through your sketches over and over. Weary, worn-out boots. A leaking mug, broken and poorly repaired, pieces that would never fit back together properly. Your helmet, the dome cracked, overgrown in creeping, mossy green. Alone. 

You should be able to get on with your life. You don't need me hanging around.

You rubbed your temples. It was too early for check-in, but you were certain that the hotel wouldn't mind you sitting in the lobby for a few hours. 

You reached the ground floor without incident, emerging onto the street and weaving your way through the crowded sidewalks of Puggart Bench. Maybe you would go off-planet, get away from the crush of Central's runoff. But that might mean a pod…

You could easily buy your own ship, though you would have to hire a pilot. Perhaps you could get your pilot's license? You would already need one if you wanted to have ground transport options, instead of being subjected to the mercy of the Pug's PTS. Of course. There it was, a plan. This wouldn't be so difficult. You had survived on your own for most of your life! 

You squared your shoulders, scrubbing at your face in an effort to shore yourself up. Of course you could handle this. "I can do this." You said aloud, clenching your fists determinedly. "I have four hours until check-in. Tomorrow I have my appointment slated to look at living spaces, and I'll stop by the registry to sign up for the courses. Then, I can go to the grocery depot-" You continued ticking off your objectives, searching through your pockets for your analog sketchbook so you could write everything down. Where is-?

You thought you were imagining things for a moment when you heard Ezra's voice. "The gentry will think you've gone lunar if you keep rambling to yourself, gentle soul." 

He sounded slightly out of breath. You froze when a familiar hand tapped your most recent sketchbook against your arm. You must have left it on the couch. For a split-second, you debated on trying to lose him again in the thick crowd. 

But then, "Wait, please. Just...permit me a moment of your time." He begged. You sighed and obligingly struggled along crossways to the general flow of pedestrian motion, following him to the sheltered harbor of a nearby doorway.

Ezra shoved his hands into his pockets, looking incredibly rumpled. You folded your arms over your chest, barely resisting the urge to hug yourself nervously. "Look." You said quietly. "If you saw the thing I gave you, you know why I'm doing this."

"I understand the trajectory, but I am still in the dark when it comes to the catalyst." Ezra muttered. "What brought you to such a conclusion? What scurrilous thoughts have flourished, propagated, conspired to usher you onto the path of solitude that you are so determined to float without me?"

I love you. I love you. I love you and I'm scared-

"I think I love you, okay?!" You exploded, flinging the words heedlessly as you finally dared to actually look at him. "I love you and I...Ezra, I'm-" Your lower lip began to quiver while you came to terms with what you had just done, your sentence drying up and your face flushing with shame. "I'm…"

"You're what?" He encouraged you softly, his eyes impossibly, infuriatingly kind. 

"Scared." You managed to get out, a raw hiccup catching in your chest. 

"Why?" You gestured vaguely up and down at your body, giving him a helpless little shrug. Ezra shook his head. "Attempt again. I want to hear what you have to say, but you must speak."

"I'm not...I'm...Ezra, I'm just-" Your voice dropped to a defeated whisper, tears beginning to roll down your face. "I'm broken."

"By whose definition?" He asked sharply, his visible bristling causing a spike of gratitude to nourish the flame in your stomach. "Who has planted these thoughts in your head? Because they are a bold-faced liar."

"I don't expect you to understand-"

"Oh certainly!" He interrupted you in that ferociously cheery tone, "Why would I, a simple floater that has been crushed under the monstrous heft of the Great Chain time and again, understand what it's like to feel worthless or used? Better yet, abandoned."

"It's different for me!" You cried, hating how pitiful your voice sounded. "You deserve--you deserve everything and I'm so...I'm dirty, I'm wrong and-"

"How the hell can you say things like that about yourself?" Ezra's large hands framed your face gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. "How can you spout such untruths about the woman I love?" He murmured tenderly.

The woman I love. The woman I love. The woman I love.

You stared up at him, certain that your mouth was agape. "You speak of deserving with no regard for how little I deserve you, gentle soul. It wounds me that you think so low of yourself." Ezra breathed, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own. "All I can think about when I look at you is how much I do not deserve...any of this. The stability, the contentment. I am akin to a somnolent cat on a warm windowsill, gentle soul." His expression grew pained, clouded with thought. "My life has not been an easy one, perennially by the fault of my own hand. I did not anticipate such...fortuitously serendipitous circumstances, wherein I would be confronted with the task of engaging in mutual lodgin' strictly for the sake of enjoyment of another's company, you must understand."

"I uh." You swallowed, "I probably will once I figure out what you said, give me a minu-"

"Let me translate into the layman's vernacular then. To spare you the...intellectual toil." Ezra sucked in a ragged breath. "I would appreciate you giving me the honor of er, being able to pursue a relationship with you. I would like to kiss you. I would like to kiss...as much of you as I can. I would like to touch you, wherever and whenever you'll permit. I would like to know you...i-intimately."

His awkward little stammer at the end set you off, helpless laughter bubbling up in your chest. "Ezra-!" You sputtered, clinging to his hand.

"What?" He protested. "I am a loquacious fool, gentle soul! Simplicity undoes me, as sure as your tenderness undoes me! I am at a loss." He pressed his forehead to your own. "I beg of you, don't leave. Not yet. At least allow me to attempt to...to offer you something. Anything. Permit me to prove you wrong."

"I don't know if you can." You murmured sadly. 

"You have saved me time and again, gentle soul." Ezra reasoned. "With your permission, with your consent, I...martyr's malfeasance, let me help." His voice broke. "You nearly died, I nearly lost you in that Green Purgatory. I do not approach this task lightly, please understand. You are immensely precious to me, and I...I am afraid I am being too verbose once more."

You reached out to run your fingers through the blond patch on his temple, then checked your watch with a put-upon sigh. "Well, if we hurry home, I can cancel my reservations before they charge me." 

"Home?" He echoed hopefully, his eyes brightening as he nudged his head against your palm.

"Yeah." You nodded, allowing a little smile to curve your lips. "Home."

…

"I haven't done anything for months, so I…" you trailed off nervously, your hands clasped in your lap. "I don't know whether I even can anymore, you know?" You admitted.

Ezra nodded from his spot by the mantle, circling around behind the couch as he spoke. "I will not rush you, gentle soul. We focus solely on encouraging your relaxation." Your hands dropped to unbutton your shirt and a hand lightly tapping your wrist halted your motion. "Be still." He murmured. "You are safe here. Disrobing is not even on the itinerary for this week."

"The itiner…tell me you have a weird little chart somewhere." You snickered, faltering when his large palms pressed down on your shoulders and eased you back against the couch.  

"It is not little, I assure you." Ezra's thumbs slid over the back of your neck. "Rehabilitation is no laughing matter. I will speak throughout so you know that it is me here. If you wish to close your eyes, please do. If you wish for me to stop, simply raise your hand."

"Wh-What are you going to do?" You queried warily.

"Rub your shoulders." 

You blinked, confused but immensely relieved. You had thought… "You don't want to...y'know?"

"Gentle soul, never doubt my want." Ezra muttered darkly. "The quest for knowledge is one of eternal restraint, prudent temperance and mute burden." You hummed, not entirely sure what he meant by that. His palms were calloused and warm even through the fabric of your shirt, large fingers spread on your shoulders. Strong thumbs carefully worked into the nape of your neck, alternating in circles back and forth, back and forth. "What shall I speak of, gentle soul?"

"Hmm?" You were so focused on his hands you hadn't really heard his question. Ezra chuckled and repeated himself. "Oh! Um, I...well, whatever you can think of. I like hearing you talk. You could probably read the ingredients on a ration bar and I'd be invested."

Ezra sputtered, trying to muffle his laugh with his shoulder. "There's only so many ways I can expound upon such gripping topics as monosodium glutamate before it lapses into tedium, gentle soul." He hummed low in his throat, then opened with, "On a most divinely appointed day, when our beloved Screamer had been taken by tempestuous winds and scorching rains, I found myself as William Bligh."

"Oh, I love this one." You grinned, settling against the couch. "Favorite story, hands down."

"The increase of your inclination towards bias when I am involved is duly noted and immensely appreciated, gentle soul." You could hear his smile, picturing it in your head with ease. The way his eyes crinkled at the sides, his brows pitching slightly. "By the grace of Kevva I was tossed upon the mercies of fickle men who would not hesitate to slit my throat to save their own…"

...

The shoulder rubbing became a bi-nightly engagement. Ezra would recite a chapter from Aurelac And I, occasionally adding little bits in for flair as he went. Tonight was one such night, "She swaggered into the tent, braggadocious and bold, her hair immaculately coiffed under the dome of her helmet and it was then I knew my demise was encroach-"

"You are ridiculous, I am so far from braggadocious!" You interrupted him to protest. "And no one's hair ever looks good in those helmets. Plus, I was one hundred percent not in your book, thank Kevva."

"I confess I toyed with the idea of writing you in, but you struck me as an individual so fiercely private...I did not wish to remove you from such delectable obscurity." The man teased. "Aside from your name on the cover, naturally."

"I can't believe you wrote it so that you lost an arm-"

"How many times must I remind you that the protagonist of this tale is not myself? He is a man of unwavering moral fiber." Ezra groused. "A man of dubious, shaded past and impeccable integrity. Ambidextrous as well. Nothing like myself in the least."

You make me wish I was a reputable individual.

"Hey, Ezra." You craned your neck to look at him, his palm sliding to cup your ear automatically. "Can I do this for you instead?"

"Do what?" He asked blankly. 

"The whole relaxation thing. Like what you're doing for me, you know?" You extended your hands. "Can I do it for you tonight?"

"That's...it's not necessary, gentle soul, you don't-"

"I want to. Please?"

Ezra grimaced reluctantly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, if you are certain." You nodded enthusiastically and he sighed, slowly settling down on the couch as you climbed off of it. "I am unsure if I am quite so receptive to this particular tech-" His words hitched mid-sentence as your fingers slid up into the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck. "-nique." Ezra squeaked. "Going in for the kill so quickly, gentle soul? I at least gave you the fair play of two nights before my digits even grazed your h-air-"

You laughed quietly, fingers raking through his short hair with something very close to greed. He tilted his head to follow the motion of your pulls, humming low in his throat. You contentedly basked in the feeling of his body under your hands, even for something as mundane as rubbing his shoulders or finger-combing his hair. "Ezra, you're so tense." you murmured.

"You cannot fault me." Ezra protested. "I have a lifetime of prospectin' that these shoulders have borne the burden of without complaint. It's a miracle I can still move, the foolhardy things I've done…" He flexed his right hand idly. "A miracle, facilitated in no small part by yourself."

Like always, you found yourself flushing at his praise. You bit your lip, a little hesitant to ask the question that had been plaguing you since that particular stormy night. You had your suspicions, of course, but you really wanted to hear it from his mouth. "So I don't know if you remember this, you were kind of half-asleep when you did it. You recited a poem to me and it started out something like…'you come to me in my dreams'." 

"Ah, hmm." Ezra coughed awkwardly. "Dare I ask why you enquire?"

You drummed your fingertips on his shoulders, then slipped your hands down to cradle his throat. Your fingers laced together just over his Adam's apple, pinkies resting on his exposed collarbone. "I was just wondering, what's the full version of it?" 

You felt him swallow convulsively. "I'm afraid I have not finished that one yet." He admitted softly.

"You wrote that?" 

Ezra nodded, chuckling, "Is that so difficult to believe?"

"Well uh, no, not really. I just...I guess I never thought about you writing anything else aside from the floater's rendition of Blood And Swash." You hummed as he laughed again, then asked, "What's it about?"

"It is poetry, gentle soul. It doesn't necessarily have to be about anything." He retorted a little too quickly. 

You gasped softly. "Is it about me?" 

Ezra froze. "What? No! As if written word alone would be enough to extol your virtues!" He snapped indignantly.

"It is about me!" You crowed triumphantly, the fire in your stomach blazing bright.

"Hush yourself, you contemptuously smug thing." The brown-haired man grumbled. 

"You're writing poetry about me!"

"I can do little else!" He exclaimed in exasperation, pinning your hands in place on his chest. "You demand it. You are poetry without a page, gentle soul. I have a responsibility to mankind itself, t-to document...such beauty must be preserved, lest it fade to the marches of featureless time." Ezra proclaimed staunchly, staring straight ahead. "And truly, what a disservice that would be."

You blinked down at the top of his head, tears gathering at the edges of your lashes. At your sniffling, Ezra half-turned to look up at you.

"Gentle soul?" He asked uncertainly. You shook your head, fumbling back over the couch to essentially tuck yourself into his lap. Ezra, to his credit, adjusted remarkably well to your sudden craving for closeness. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on the top of your head as you hid your face in his chest. 

"I'm sorry." You apologized thickly after a while, certain that he couldn't be comfortable.

Ezra grunted, adjusting his posture beneath you into something that resembled a dignified slouch. "In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn." He muttered the words rapidly, rushing through the memorized lines. "In my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight. For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of youuuu-" He groaned the last word. "And there it stops. My brain, for all its magnanimous, expansive lexicon, falls utterly flat." His hands stroked over your head, fingers carding through your hair. 

"Maybe it is done?" You suggested timidly.

He scoffed. "No, I just...I have to come across the right turn of phrase. The whole thing is trite enough as it is. Hopelessly lovestruck. Never thought I would be the type. Truly, a horrendous conundrum." He lamented, his voice soft. He didn't appear overly distraught about the aforementioned horrendous conundrum.

"Is it making you feel querulous?" You jibed.

Ezra laughed ruefully, his eyes warm as he smiled. "It very well might be, gentle soul!"

"All for the fleeting glimpse of you, all for the…" You paused, your gaze falling to his lips. "A-All for the touch of your mouth on mine?" 

Ezra ran a hand through his hair, seeming a bit flustered as he tried to avoid your gaze. "We have not even-" 

"But we could." You whispered. 

"Could we?" He asked, his voice low. "Should we?" You cupped his jaw, your thumbs rubbing over the unruly stubble he permitted to grow there. "Do you wish to?" 

You nodded, smiling. "I do."

"Strictly to further research, naturally. To...facilitate my Byronic breakthrough." Ezra reasoned, his voice drawling lazily. You shook your head and his brows furrowed, drawing tight at the peak of his nose. "No?"

"Because I want to." You confessed shyly. 

Ezra cleared his throat, hoarsely rasping a single word. "Temperance."

"What?"

"Don't trouble yourself. I'm merely makin' a note of what to petition the saints for later tonight." A hand rested on the back of your neck, coaxing you in. His mouth was gentle on yours, tentative; lips moving with equal amounts of caution and curiosity. His mustache sent unfamiliar sensations racing across your skin, somehow coarse and soft all at once. You closed your eyes, whimpering quietly as you clung to his shoulders. "I must admit," he gasped into your mouth, "this is hardly conducive to my--"

"Shh," you hushed him, smiling when he chuckled. You bumped your forehead against his, nuzzling your temple over his Mallen streak. "Thank you."

"I believe that is my next line, gentle soul." He teased. "All for the touch of your mouth on mine. What a deliciously trite stanza." His brown eyes searched your own. "I am lost in impassioned rumination over it." He murmured, drawing you back for another kiss.

Part Eight

#ezra (prospect 2018) #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect imagine #ezra x reader #oh my god they were roommates #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #SPACE #I love space #prospect 2018 #aurelac and I: an audacious tale of greed in the green #bestseller in the making #number one on the leaderboards of fake books #hurt/comfort #ow my heart #good things from bad #healing #I just #i like nice things #enjoy! #artist!reader #prospector!reader

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Sixty

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

Shorter part than usual...

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Harry thought he was gonna go bananas. Your extra heavy period had passed, and you started your new pack of pills, but you still had refrained from doing anything remotely sexual. Other than a few kisses here and there. You two had been intimate basically since your third date, Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. You wouldn’t even blow him, and you certainly hadn’t let him touch you. The scare you had was barely worth being scared over, but the whole thing had still made you feel uneasy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he actually had to relieve himself, but he just couldn’t hold out anymore. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he had hoped it would be. But how could it be satisfying when all he wanted was you. He was starting to get anxious because once April hit his weekends were going to be really busy. No more just lazing around in bed. He didn’t want this no sex thing to continue.

“Babe?” He asks you as you come out of the shower Saturday morning.

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk for a second?” You look at him. He was sitting up in bed, twiddling his thumbs. You walk over and sit on the edge of the bed where he was.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Sort of awkward to talk about, but...we haven’t had sex in a while.” Your face flushes. You really hadn’t noticed how long it had been. Ten days maybe? Almost two weeks? “Is everythin’ okay?”

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed how long it had been.” His face falls. “That sounded worse than I meant it to. I just wanted to hop onto my new pack of pills before we did anything.”

“And you have.”

“Yeah, I’ve just barely finished the first week so we need to be careful.”

“So let’s be careful.”

“I think we should use condoms for a while…just as an extra precaution.”

“Um…okay, we could do that.”

“I think it would make me feel better.” You put your hand over his. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay…just…you haven’t even let me touch you, and you haven’t touched me.”

“I haven’t wanted to.” You say bluntly, but your eyes gloss over at the same time, so he sees your agony. “I know I’m being stupid…”

“You’re not.” He moves his hand to cup your cheek. “Just don’t like you pullin’ away from me like this.”

“I’m not.” You lean into his touch and kiss his palm. “I’ve not gone anywhere, my doll.” He smiles at his favorite pet name.

“I really like it when you call me that.”

“What?”

“Your doll.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, don’t know why, but I like it a lot. You don’t do it a lot though, only sometimes.”

“Want me to say it more?”

“Mhm.” He smiles big as you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “Where’d you come up with it?” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“My Nannie used to call my Papa that.” He wraps his arms around you and rubs your back.

“Ah. And what would he call her.”

“Hun mostly, or lovey, he’s called her lovey a lot. She’d call him dolly sometimes too.”

“And he’d call you baby right?”

“Mhm.” You smile against his neck. Then you burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Well, he was Papa right?” You lift your head to look at him. “So one day when I was visiting them I heard her ask him a question and she said, ‘would you like that, poo?’” You start laughing harder. “And he just nodded yes.”

“They sound really cute.”

“They were, they were very cute.” You tuck your head back where it was. “I’m not quite in the mood at the moment, but maybe later tonight, yeah?”

“I’ll be here.” He kisses the top of your head. He was happy just to have the cuddle.

//

“Babe?!” Harry yelled from up in the loft.

“Yeah?!” You said, coming from the kitchen.

“Can yeh come up here a minute?”

You make your way up the spiral staircase and cross your arms over your chest.

“What’s up? I’m in the middle of making dinner?”

“Just wanted you to see my weekend schedule for the next few months, and it’s just gonna get busier. Sometimes I’m able to double book weddings if one’s the mornin’ and the other is in the evenin’.” You squint at the calendar on the screen. “Do you want me to print it for you so you have it?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “Whatever.” You smile. You move to make your way down the stairs, but he grabs your wrist.

“Don’t you, um, don’t you care that I’m going to not be around a lot?”

“Of course I do, but it’s out my control isn’t it? And it’s not like I can crash every wedding you go to. I’ll find ways to fill my time. I’ll still have homework and other things to do. I’ll probably just hang out with the girls more.”

“You could come to some of the shoots, you could be like my assistant.” You scoff.

“Oh honey, you and I are both too much of a perfectionist to work together, and you know it.” He chuckles.

“You’re right.” He pulls you closer to him.

“I’m making dinner, let me go finish it up.” He lets go of you reluctantly. He prints the calendar for you and comes down the stairs to join you in the kitchen.

“Whatcha make, smells good.”

“Just some stirfry, nothing special.” You put some into two bowls for the both of you. “There’s some tofu in there too.”

“Thanks babe.”

You both sit down to eat. You get a call from Rachel.

“Hey!” You say cheerily.

“Hey, are you busy tonight, know it’s last minute.”

“Um…” You look at Harry. “We’re just sort of having a night in, why?”

“Sarah and I were thinking of going out and having some fun. The boys can come too, I could invite Mariah. We’re just bored ya know?”

“Ooo, yeah, maybe we could go to Tucci’s? Haven’t been there since the fall.”

“Great idea! Wanna meet up around nine?”

“Works for me!” You hang up the phone and look at Harry.

“I really don’t feel like goin’ out drinkin’ tonight…” He says.

“Then stay home.” You shrug as you take another bite of food. “I mean, you don’t have to drink. I may not even drink. It would jut be fun to go hang out with our friends.”

“So if I did stay home, you wouldn’t care?”

“Harry.” You sigh. “What is with you today?”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep trying to pick a fight with me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You keep asking me if I care or not, of course I care. I’m not going to force you to go out if you don’t want to, but I’m also not going to stay in if I don’t want to.” You get up and clean your plate. “Come, don’t come, it’s up to you.”

“See, that’s what makes me think you don’t care.”

You were about to groan heavily, maybe even yell at him, but you were starting to recognize his behavior. He was being needy. You hadn’t really loved on him, and you did sort of tell him that tonight you would. Your sex drive had disappeared because of all the hormone change, maybe going out could fix that.

“I’m sorry.” You say calmly. “I’d really like it if you came out with everyone tonight. You’re so much fun, and it wouldn’t be any fun without you.”

“Alright…I guess I could go.” You smile big for him.

Later on you both get ready. You opt for a pair of jeans and black, quarter length sleeve crop top. You decide to leave your hair down and straight for a change. Harry sticks with his black jeans and a white t-shirt. His pearls looked sort of miss-matched, but he always wore them no matter what, just as you wore the rose ring on the chain he had gotten you.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, are we just meetin’ ‘em there?”

“Mhm, well, Niall is ordering an uber for the four of us, and then we’re going to meet Rach and Mariah there.”

“Cool.” He looks you up and down. “Cute.” You wrap your arms around him.

“You look pretty sexy yourself.” You wink and let him go.

You meet up with Niall and Sarah across the street and climb in the uber. Niall volunteered to sit in the front knowing that Harry would want to stay seated next to you. You sat in the middle, and Harry kept his arm around you, pulling you as close as possible to him. Sarah took your picture because she thought the two of you just looked so cute.

“Your hair’s starting to get long Harry.” Sarah says.

“Yeah, I’m ‘bout due for a haircut I suppose.” You run your hand through it.

“Maybe just a trim.” You giggle, and he kisses the top of youe head as you lean into him.

You all greet Rachel and Mariah who are holding hands when you see them. You all find a high-top to stand at so you can decide on what you all want to drink.

“Might just have a seltzer with lime, what do you want?” Before you can answer, Sarah cuts in.

“Tequila shots, that’s what we’re doing tonight.” Your face lights up. “I’ll get plenty of limes for everyone, and salt.”  She drags Niall up to the bar to help her.

“Guess that’s what I’m having.” You chuckle. “I can get us a pitcher of water if you want babe?”

“I can go-“

“S’okay, I got it.” He watches you walk up to the bar.

“Not drinking tonight, H?” Mariah asks him.

“Nah, not really in the mood.”

“Is everything okay?” Rachel asks.

“Yeah, just don’t feel like gettin’ crazy is all.” He smiles at her reassuringly. He looks back over at you. You were giggling while talking with the bartender. He hands you a pitcher of water and some plastic cups, and you come back over. “What was so funny?”

“What?” You set everything down on the table.

“The bartender made you laugh.”

You suck your teeth and pour yourself a cup of water. Niall and Sarah come back with the shots. You hand the water to Harry. You, Sarah, and Rachel all lick your hands for the salt, take the shot, and sink your teeth into the limes. Harry, Niall, and Mariah all stood there stunned. They had all seen you do it before, but it always amazed them.

“Mm.” You say taking the lime out of your mouth, and wipes the juice from your chin with the back of your hand. “That taste never gets old.”

“Okay, let’s hit the dance floor.” Sarah says.

Rachel looks at Mariah.

“I’m gonna hang with the boys for a bit, I’ll meet you out there.”

“Okay.” She smiles and walks over to the dance floor with you and Sarah.

“She needed this ya know.” Niall says to Harry. “She’s been in a funk at work the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, in a funk at home too.” He sighs, sipping on his water.

“Trouble in paradise, H?” Mariah asks, tipping her head back to take her shot.

“No…she’s just been uneasy. We had a little slip up a couple weeks ago, nothing major.”

“Define slip up?” Niall looks at him deeply concerned.

“Nothin’ like what you’re thinkin’. She…missed one of her pills. Obviously she’s fine now, but she was worked up about it.”

“That’s so scary!” Mariah says. “What did you guys do?”

“She had me take her to the drug store so she could get a Plan B, and that was that. Got her period, and then she started a new pack of pills.”

“How’d she forget to take it? You know Sarah gets a shot every few months so she doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“It was the day after your party, we were both hungover, we slept in late…and then we…ya know.” He takes another sip of water. “If we hadn’t then it probably would’ve been fine.”

“Even still…” Mariah says. “You guys definitely did the right thing.”

“We haven’t since then.” Niall’s jaw drops.

“You two haven’t fucked in two weeks?” There was complete and udder shock on his face.

“Shut up.” Harry nudges him.

“Sorry, just really surprisin’ t’hear.”

“Have you talked with her about it?” Mariah asks.

“Yeah we did this mornin’… says we need to start usin’ condoms more just in case.” He groans.

“Just be happy you still get to have sex, dude.” Mariah says putting her hand on his shoulder with a smile.

“You know, you have no idea how good and easy you have it. You don’t have to worry about getting’ pregnant, or gettin’ anyone else pregnant. You can just fuck all yeh want and it’ll be fine.”

“You’re exactly right.” She looks back at the three of you dancing. “Think it’s time I get over there.”

She joins the three of you and you all cheer.

“Don’t tell her I told you.” Harry says to Niall. “Some things just need to stay between us lads.”

“I gotcha, no worries.” Niall takes his shot. “C’mon, take your shot.” Harry nods and takes his. They both join the group.

You smile at Harry and take your hands in his to dance with him. You thought he looked really good tonight. You loved when you could actually see his tattoos peak through his clothes. A slower song comes on and you all pair up accordingly. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands rest on your hips.

“Are you glad you came out? Because I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah, I am.” He leans down to kiss your nose.

The six of you have a great time, but all nights must come to an end at some point. You all say goodnight to Mariah and Rachel as you climb into your shared uber. You had a large SUV this time. You and Harry sit in the way back. Niall had his arm around Sarah, and they chatted quickly. Harry practically had you in his lap. Your neck was craned while he planted open mouthed kisses on you. Just as he bites into you, you whimper and Niall and Sarah turn to look at you both.

“Could you two wait the ten fuckin’ minutes the car ride is gonna take until you start in with all that.” Harry lets go of your neck with a popping noise. Sarah’s mouth falls open and mouths oh my god when she looks at you.

“Actually, it’s a twenty minute ride. Ask him to turn up the music if you don’t wanna hear.”

“Harry, he’s right, we should-“

He practically tackles you, pinning your back to the seat. He had so much pent up energy from being deprived, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. It only take his a second to get his tongue into your mouth and you shut up immediately, wrapping your arms around him.

“Jesus Christ.” Niall sighs. “Mate, mind turnin’ the music up?” The driver does as asked.

Every once in a while they hear a giggle or two from one of you while you continue to have an aggressive makeout in the back of the uber. You felt sort of silly with your friends around, but you couldn’t find a way to care with the way Harry was kissing you, practically bruising your lips. He moved his mouth back to your neck, and essentially attacked you.

“Oi! We’re here.” Niall says. Harry helps you sit up, you looked fucked out and you hadn’t even fucked yet.

The four of you get out of the car, you wrap your arms around him and kiss on his neck while the four of you stand on the sidewalk. Harry’s arms are wrapped right around you.  

“So…I guess hanging out for a bit is out now…” Sarah says.

“Sorry guys, ngh, not tonight. Another time though. Have a good night.” Harry says. “I know I’m about to.” He says under his breath as he pulls you across the street.

//

“Holy shit.” Sarah says to Niall as they head up to his apartment. “He’s like an animal.”

“That was nothin’.” He says as they get inside.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve literally been in a car with him, a group of us, while he’s fucked someone in the backseat.”

“Did you hear the popping sound when he let go of her neck? How does that not hurt?”

“People like what they like babe.”

“I know, but Jesus.” She giggles. “I’ve never known Y/N to be so okay with PDA like that.”

“Yeah I figured she’d tell him to quit it.” He shrugs.

//

Harry gets you upstairs to your apartment, your lips had barely left his skin the entire time. You wanted it just as bad as him, he riled you up in the car pretty good. Once you’re inside you’re pinned up against a wall, and you’re sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He groans as he presses himself against you. He was rock hard.

“Alright.” He breathes, and picks you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

You tug at the hem of his shirt and practically rip it off him. You unbutton and unzip his jeans and yank them down his legs. You push him back onto the bed, and kneel in front of him. He was breathing heavily, and he hissed when he felt your hand on his cock. You both moan when you wrap your lips around his tip. You suckle on it, then run the tip of your tongue along his slit. You lap up all the precome that had been leaking from him.

“Fuck.” He says, hands flying to your hair as he bucks his hips up. “Take your clothes off, please. Need you now.”

You stand up and take your shirt off, throwing it at him. He chuckles as you slide your pants down your legs, taking your panties with them. He sits up and you stand between his legs. His hands go right for your ass cheeks and his mouth wraps around one of your nipples. You head falls back as twists the piercing with his teeth. His hands slide down slightly to grip the backs of your thighs.

“Want you to sit on my face, will yeh do that?” He asks looking up at you. You nod your head yes.

Harry gets farther back on the bed so his head was resting on his pillow. You didn’t sit on his face often, but when you’d do it, it always felt incredible. You straddle his face, and slowly lower yourself onto him. You grip the head board when you feel his tongue on you. It swirls all around your folds as his hands hands knead the globes of your ass. He suckles on your clit and you let out a moan. You rock your hips back and forth on his face, needed that extra friction. The stubble on his chin felt like heaven.

“Fuck, Harry.” It was music to his hears, and even better that he was hearing his favorite song for the first time in two weeks.

He flicks his tongue faster on you, and before you know it you’re absolutely screaming from your overdue release. You move off of him while trying to catch your breath. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and smile at you. He moves to pull you down to him, but you inch back.

“Condom.”

“Babe, do we-“

“You want this cunt, you put the condom on.” His mouth falls open. It was a word you rarely said, if it all, so he knew you meant business.

He gets up and goes into the bathroom as you lay down and wait for him. He comes back with three condoms in his hand, and places two on your bedside table.

“A little presumptuous don’t you think?” You ask propping yourself up on your elbows.

“If you think you’re getting off easy tonight, you’re fuckin’ crazy.” He tears the condom open and slides it on his dick. “Now, open those legs, I have some work to do.” You giggle as he gets on top of you.

You were glistening for him, and he couldn’t wait to get inside. You groan softly when you feel him push the tip in, and he slowly pushes the rest of the way in with gritted teeth. He couldn’t feel you fully of course, and he hated it. He hated this stupid fucking condom, but it was your call and he had to respect that. He looks down at your and your head was rolled back in your pillow. He smirks as he start to rock his hips back and forth.

“Harry.” You moan as his hands find their way to your breasts.

“Want me to fuck yeh over and over, angel?”

“Yes, please.”

He fucked you into the mattress, there was no doubt about that. He ended up using four condoms instead of three. Once in a while he’d take a break and just finger you. He fucked you with him on top, he fucked you with you on top, he fucked you on both of your sides. He got you up to seven orgasms. Not quite the ten or even eleven that he was striving for, but he knew he’d get there eventually. You admitted that you were feeling raw and it was time for him to come one last time, so he did.

Once you had gone to the bathroom, barely able to walk, you crawl into bed with him. You lay your head on his chest, and his arm goes around you.

“Please, don’t ever make me suffer like that again.” He says, playing with your hair.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t realize you were in such agony.”

“It was awful. I wanted you everyday. I know not everything is about sex, but…”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.” You look up at him. “I just…between being scared and the way my hormones were all out of wack, I just didn’t have the drive, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” He kisses you tenderly on the lips.

“Never stopped loving you though.” He smiles and kisses you again.

“I should hope the fuck not.” You giggle and settle back down on his chest.

“Think we scarred the two of them for life, Niall and Sarah?”

“Nah, wasn’t Niall’s first time seein’ me like that in a car with someone.”

“Maybe just Sarah then. She’s never really seen me like that in public.”

“Was fun makin’ out in the car.”

“Yeah, it was.” You feel your eyes get droopy.

“Love you, angel.”

“Love you too, my doll.”

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fic #imagine if i just ended the story here lmao #im not sure when ill be updating taking it slow next tbh #im not sure where i want to take it #i really dont feel like writing about the aruba trip #maybe a time jump? #but i hate time jumps so maybe not

[phasmwrites]

oOhHh for the title game, i’m actually intrigued by the dp todobaku fic 👀 i mean who doesn’t want to get sandwiched by two pretty (and beefy) men okay i’m sorry for being a hoe ckdjks

but i’m lowkey hypothesizing that your too late bakugou fic means that he’s so horny that he wants to take you right there and right now but he doesn’t have any condoms so he’s trusting his pull put game. but he got too lost with his own pleasure that he was a lil bit too late to pull out THEN BADABING BADABOOM “that’s how you came to life, son.”

but i’m actually cackling at the thought of bakugou being so confident about his pull out game when in reality it’s

YESSSS i’ve been stunted in terms of dialogue for that fic lately but GAH i’m so excited to eventually finish writing that dp todobaku fic, like its probably gonna be long? cause i have lots of ideas 🥴 but so far i’ve only written the first scene where reader is convincing bakugou to have a threesome but here’s a snippet! also omg no ur not a hoe being sandwiched between the two of them is an abSOLUTE DREAM AAAAAAA but also i want bakugou to get railed by shouto 😍

So when he parted his lips and spoke again, voice dropping to a husky mutter, you knew you had him in your clutches, “What’s the point in bringing this up?”

“Well we’ve been together four years, I’d say we’re quite secure yeah?” He nodded slowly, “We’ve talked about threesomes before, is this any different?”

Mumbling to himself, you were unable to pick up on what exactly he had said, “Hm?”

“I said,” Bakugou growled out, his flush only deepening, “...fine, whatever, if it makes you fucking happy.”

“You have to want it too, babe.” You stood up from the couch, cautiously making your way over to him. One hand laid over his shoulder, the other lifting his chin so that his narrowed eyes would meet your soft expression.

“I hate you.” There was no true malice behind his words and you knew that.

A small giggle fell from your lips, “You won’t be hating me when my idea gets Todoroki Shouto to shove his cock in your-”

Before you even got the chance to finish your sentence, Bakugou immediately snatched your waist and tossed you back onto the couch for the second time that evening, mumbling expletives before ambushing your sides with his deft fingers.

i should really get back to writing this fic omg i keep imagining how i wanna write it in my head instead of actually writing it hhhh but i do have it completely outlined! i have it planned that everyone gets the spotlight at some point in this threesome LOL

& omg my fic “too late” is actually inspired by the weeknd’s song too late KLDJDSFLK i love that mans music but my idea was much darker than my usual content basically bakugou and reader in a modern!au break into someone’s house to steal shit, it goes wrong and they end up fucking on the kitchen counter before leaving the scene of the crime 🥴 i don’t have much written for it but i have a small snippet of the beginning!

It had meant to be swift, grab the jewelry and other valuables and scatter. Leave no trace behind, keep conversations to a minimum. Maneuver through the expansive backyard garden and hop the fence. Sprint a quarter of a mile to where the motorcycle was shrouded in bushes, and escape.

The owners of the large estate had left for their weekly lunch outing with friends at the lavish restaurant by the water, just like you observed for the past three weeks. Up to four hours would roll over the clock before they returned; revealing the perfect slot of time to initiate the plan. 

It was supposed to be simple, easy, a quick cash-grab, just like it had always been. Except neither you nor your boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki, anticipated the couple breaking the chains of their boringly mundane routine. 

Your fingers were draped in gold necklaces when a dull buzz infiltrated your eardrums. Only seconds later did the door to the walk-in closet burst open, Bakugou’s eyes shrouded in panic, “These fuckers came home early, we have to go, now.”

but i fully agree his pull out game would be so weak he’d be boasting about it and then bam a minute in and he’s filling you up because he can’t find it in him to pull out when you just feel so good 😩 & “that’s how you came to life, son” IM CACKLING 

IM SORRY THIS RESPONSE IS SO LONG AHAHAHA BUT THANK YOU MICH FOR SENDING ME SMTH ABOUT MY FICS 🥺🥺🥺💗💗💗

#phasm.asks #bakuushi

[onf-headcanons]

Alpha Jaeyoung x Omega reader

• Establishment for reader stand in below.

Setting : Alpha Jaeyoung x Omega reader, aristocrat/royalty AU, ABO soulmate AU, first meeting of fated pair, Arranged marriage, slowburn romance.

A/N : BTW its a undone fic attempt. Maybe a part 2? Idk. So heads up long post below.

• You have been living with your mother ever since you presented as an Omega. It is a family tradition. (Your sibling lives with your paternal family.)

• Your maternal side of family has this uncommon tradition if compare to other kingdoms. The head of the family is an Omega and it has been that way ever since. So once you reached coming of age, you mother starts to help you find an Alpha to be your husband candidate.

• You have been through several meetings with Alphas from other kingdoms under your mother's orders but none of them clicked with you. You don't want something of a political marriage, you want a solid connection with your partner.

• You purposely ruined the meeting by behaving weirdly so that those Alpha royals or aristocrats cancel off their idea of engaging with you.

• You mother, who is an Omega and the Head of the family persisted and arranged you to meet more Alphas but more candidates declined the offer.

• But one Duke Jaeyoung accepted the offer. Which you mother is very happy with, because the young Duke's well known reputation and his bloodline.

• (Seems like this young Duke is related with the royalty in his home country)

• Also this young duke used to study at another country. He is well loved there too!

• You saw his pictures and you thought to yourself that he is good looking too. But a small inner voice tells you he does seems familiar. You quickly brush it off thinking maybe the young duke is related to someone you met in previous arranged meetings.

• Seeing you mother looking a bit wear out because of your future, you thought this time you will behave nicely.

• So it is decided that you will be meeting Duke Jaeyoung when he visits your country as a representative of his kingdom for political allegiance purposes. He will be here for a week.

• With the help of your page, you did some research on Jaeyoung prior the meeting to happen.

• You did not get to meet him on the day he arrived for it was already midnight. Your mother was the one to welcome him. And the young Duke is staying in a grandly furnished chamber.

• The next morning, you head to your mother's quarters to greet your mother as your morning routine. And that is where the first time you meet Jaeyoung.

• He had come to greet your mother and to say his thanks towards your mother's hospitality.

• The moment he stepped into your mother's quarters for guest meeting, something unexpected happened.

• The moment you and Jaeyoung saw each other, you could feel yourself getting warm. You thought you were just being embarrassed because of how good looking he is. And also his deep soothing voice weirdly resonates with you.

• The moment he saw you, he seems surprised. But he quickly take back his composure,remained smiling and greeted his hosts nicely. You are more to the observing side while you mother small talks with the guest.

• The longer he is in the same space with you, you started picking up a unfamiliar scent. It was not unpleasant but its distracting.

• You do notice that Jaeyoung starts to look a bit restless and he keep having quick glances towards you. You mother noticed too.

• Mistaken as the young duke taken interest in you, your mother offered you two to have breakfast alone.

• But then what Jaeyoung said next took you and your mother by surprise. He declined the offer and he wished you are distanced away from him.

• Your cheeks are flushed red in anger (or maybe mixed with other emotions) because you thought he humiliated you. But before you could retort him, he continues his speech in front of your mother

• "Your grace, I am terribly sorry if this comes out in wrong way but,..."

• "I think the heir/heiress Y/N might be my fated pair and my existence is triggering them into heat now."

• Upon hearing Jaeyoung's words, your mother hurriedly turn towards you and placed her hand to your forehead. You are indeed scorching.

• You two are quickly separated and distanced. For both of your safety, you two have gotten injected with suppressants as well. Your mother declared that Jaeyoung is unwell due to the fatigue of travelling and helped him cancelled all of his scheduled visits.

• You are in confusion because you just had finish you heat cycle a week ago. Above of all, you are not going to just sit down and accept about "fated pair" that easily.

• Yes you feel that having a one true love partner is essential for a good marriage because you don't want to marry just for the sake of politics

• But fated pair is like a chain. You never knew who was your mate until you met them. Once you knew who it is the connection is established And once bonded (sexually), omegas could not call off the bond or find a better person.

• You resent at destiny playing a big joke by taking away your free will to choose someone you like.

• Since you cannot go confront the young Duke in person, once you feeling better, 5 days later since the first meeting, you called your page and ordered them to help deliver message. You wanted to ask if Jaeyoung feels the same, being unsatisfied at the fact you two are fated pairs.

• But on the contrary, Jaeyoung replied he is happy and willingly to follow destiny and be your mate if you allow him too.

• You scratched your head because it was unexpected. And you wonder why he succumbed into the situation that fast and even mentioned that fated pair concept is just a fairy tale concept.

• Your page come back with another unexpected answer. Jaeyoung is familiar about fated pair concept because his parents are fated pairs. That's why he acknowledged his situation swiftly.

• You are taken a back from all this. You page continues on Jaeyoung's reply, the young duke offers the both of you to have conversations through letters/message rather than letting your page memorising conversations.

• You nod at your page when they informed that they are done passing the message. You brush off the idea about the letter because you are very much taken aback from everything happening now.

• I personally prefer a modern elseworld setting and actually Jaeyoung wrote his phone number in a piece of paper and handed to your page. You totally does not know what to do as everything happening beyond your expectations, you just keep his number in a drawer of a side table beside you bed.

• Or even you did not send you page at all. You are interacting with Jaeyoung through phone messages ever since your page came back from Jaeyoung's for the first time

• Plausible conversation

• You : Seriously, your grace, why did you even thought of coming here to meet me? I am sure that my bad behaviour has spread throughout the continent.

• Jaeyoung : I thought if will be nice to know a new friend even if the meeting was unsuccessful

• You are not banned from meeting your mother so you are atill spending time with her. and you heard about Jaeyoung alot from her.

• Due to it is the first time in your family where a fated pair occurred, and since your mother has limited knowledge regarding to the matter, Jaeyoung has been doing his research and inquiring more information regarding to fated pair, hoping to help understanding the situation.

• You carefully ask you mother if she is OK with Jaeyoung being your fated pair. You mother acknowledged.

• Your mother : He has good reputations and he is a nice kid,why not? His home country and his parents are nice too.

• Your mother : Honey, this might sounds irresponsible for me to say but, I would rather walk you down the aisle if Jaeyoung is your husband. I don't see the others will make you happy. Its a mother's instinct.

• You deep down rolled your eyes. Because it seems like no one cared about if you have agreed with the fact that you have to/compulsory to bond with your fated pair no matter what.

• Frustrated,later the day, you texted Jaeyoung again.

• You : So are you going to accept the situation just like this?

• Jaeyoung : I don't get what you mean

• You : Don't you have someone you like? Its 21st century now, you should marry someone you like. Not just follow the weird rule set by destiny

• Jaeyoung did not reply for some time and you start to wonder what took him so long. He usually replies swiftly as he is in the palace.

• Then you got his reply when you are occupied with something (practising musical instrument or maybe watching news)

• Jaeyoung : I do have someone in mind but I don't think they share the same feelings as I do.

• Your eyes open wide as you read his text. DUH! Of course he is! It will be a lie if this young and handsome Duke does not have a love interest or even any admirers.

• But you somewhat felt a bit down, not sure is feeling a pity on his unrequited love or being a bit disappointed.

• Not for long, the curiosity in you spikes

• You text him back saying : Is it someone from your home country? Does they know about your feelings?

• Jaeyoung : No, and I believe they do not know.

• You : Then what are you waiting for? You should tell them!

• Jaeyoung : I don't think its a good idea for now. As much as I am dying to let them know about my feelings, it might cause them unwanted burden.

• You rolled your eyes because you cannot believe it

• You : Oh my god please don't tell me you are planning to take it to your grave.

• Jaeyoung : That's uncertain for now.

• You : why did you even participate in arranged meetings in the first place! If that person has mutual feelings to you they will be devastated should they know you might end up marrying someone else!

• And Jaeyoung replied briefly : You have a point. Thank you.

• You wondered if he got upset because you said too much. You wanted to text him again asking if he is upset but you hold back.

• You got bored and started deducing the plausibility of your guest's love interest. You felt it might be someone he met during his stay in another country.

• Then you heard a knock at the door of your quarters. You page opens the door and find out its Jaeyoung standing outside your quarters.

• Shocked at his sudden appearance, your instinct told you to close the door due to the experience from last meeting. You asking him why is he in front of your door.

• You : I don't think we should be meeting like this

• Jaeyoung : Yes but I did consult with royal doctors and they said we are both in suppressants so it's should be fine for a short while.

• It's been some days since you two last meet and you get to hear his voice again. You are not going to deny that your heart skipped a bit but your rational side pushes it down.

• It got quiet for some while and you called out his name. Turns out he is still outside your quarters.

• Jaeyoung : Yes I am still here. I need to talk to you but I am organising my thoughts.

• You thought he has come to confront you because your attitude while texting with him. But apparently not.

• You : What is it that you need to talk about, to the extent you had to come over to my quarters?

• Jaeyoung, asking you with a careful tone: Did you went to country X for an event before?

• You pause a bit and recalled your memory. Yes you did, it was when you are still living with your paternal parent and you went to country X when you are 12.

• You replied him what you remembered. And Jaeyoung continues

• Jaeyoung : Do you remember a boy who told you his name is Wyatt?

• You lowkey panicked. You look at your page and they shake their head as a sign they never told anyone anything about your encounter many years ago

• You thought the boy named Wyatt was just a page of some nobles. But he turns out to be this young duke?

• Of course it does not mean you keep failing those Arranged meetings on purpose because you have a crush on the boy you met years ago.

• (But if you wanna imagine it that way, its fine too😉. )

• Before you could say anything, the young duke behind the door reveals himself.

• Jaeyoung : That was me. I saw your picture in the arranged meeting offer letter and I thought of meeting you again.

• Jaeyoung: But I swear I never knew about us being a fated pair beforehand and how inconvenient the situation has brought to you now. I am sorry.

• You gulped out of guilt unconsciously wondering if you denying the existence of fated pair was too harsh on him.

• You : No need to apologise, it caught us off guard.

• Jaeyoung's voice behind the door sounds sad : Yes it did.

• You turn and open the door a little so that you can see his expressions.

• You : So you came all the way here just to tell me we met before? You could have just tell me through text

• Now he mentioned about the meeting, you finally recognised his features. He is not lying.

• Jaeyoung : Yes but that's not all of it.

• You unintentionally let your guard down by opening the door wider and Jaeyoung drops another bomb on you

• Jaeyoung : You said I should tell the person I like about my feelings, that's why I am here.

• Your eyes widen at his words when you finally understood. You point at your face and exclaim, "Huh ? ME???"

• Jaeyoung nods.

• You are lost at words. Its not like you hate him, but its really too much to process. You are happy of course that he actually like you but you are afraid because your feelings are not the same as his.

• Seeing you looking concerned, Jaeyoung initiates : I don't need you to answer me now. I just wanted to let you know.

• You exchange glances with him and you nod.

• Jaeyoung with a smile : Thank you for encouraging me. I am sorry.

• You : Don't be. I was the one who told you to do what you did. If you apologised it sounds like falling love with me is a wrong thing to do.

• Jaeyoung's response caught you off guard : Its not?

• You could feel you cheeks flushed red and you close the door.

• You : Never mind what I said. I don't feel well, you should head back to your quarters now.

• Jaeyoung tells you he is leaving and it got quiet outside.

• You slide your body along with the door and end up sitting on floor. Your page asks if you needed a doctor.

• You shake you head declining their offer. You insisted your page to leave you because you are going to bed early.

• Once they left, you feel your cheeks again, you don't know if Jaeyoung's pheromone triggered it to be hot or it is warm because you are the culprit. You mutter to yourself, "Shouldn't have said too much, you idiot."

#onf #onf imagines #onf scenarios #onf headcanon #onf headcanons #onf wyatt #onf shim jaeyoung #onf royalty au #onf nobility au #onf omegaverse #shim jaeyoung #wyatt #jaeyoung #jaeyoung fluff #onf jaeyoung

[nyxi-styx]

Comfort in Celebration

Fandom: Sanders Sides Ship: None (While this fic is not Thomas x Roman, it can be taken that way, I do not mind)  Words: 1209 Rating: E for Everyone Warnings: None Characters: character!Thomas Sanders, Roman Sanders, mentioned Virgil Sanders Tags: hurt/comfort, mild angst, coda for POF (sort of), Roman’s birthday, friendship and love A/N: Posting this a day late and it’s not perfect, but I wanted to get the idea out of my head. I know the title is garbage but I’m bad at coming up with titles. I’m sorry. Completely inspired by the photo Thomas posted for Roman’s birthday.

The pain had been searing, like a white hot blade directly through his heart. Roman couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried so much, sobbing and snotting his way through more than a dozen monogrammed handkerchiefs, nearly vomiting multiple times from the force of his wails. He’d turned to Virgil, but the anxious Side could only do so much. A broken heart was not so easily fixed. 

Thomas hadn’t heard Roman sing, hum, whisper a daydream to him, or crack a joke in a month and a half. He’d tried so many times to reach out, to apologize, to ignore it and just work with him, to touch, to hug, anything. Roman wouldn’t even look at him, wouldn’t even speak clearly. It hurt Thomas to see him like this, to think that he caused this. He was running out of ideas. 

May finally turned to June and Thomas was feeling pretty hopeless about repairing his relationship with the prince. He stared at the calendar. Roman’s birthday was approaching quickly. Well. One more try certainly couldn’t hurt. Thomas sent out a message to his friend, Aleks, knowing that it was a long shot that he’d have any time for a small photo shoot, but he lucked out and they set plans for June 4th. 

Supplies were ordered from Amazon, picked up from the supermarket, organized neatly and hidden away lest Roman appear and spoil his own surprise. That was unlikely, but Thomas still wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted everything to be perfect. There was no other option. He was desperate to earn Roman’s forgiveness, to restore their friendship. 

June 4th. Make it or break it. Thomas woke earlier than usual to get prepared. The filming space was temporarily transformed into a miniature, in-home photo studio. The apartment was filled with red, gold, and white balloons and streamers. A large red banner hung over the painting above the sofa that boasted: “Happy Birthday, Roman!” in fanciful gold script font. Thomas took the vanilla-iced red velvet cake from the refrigerator, letting it come up to temperature. It was pretty enough, but had obviously come from the supermarket. Thomas only hoped Roman wouldn’t mind; it wasn’t as spectacular as he deserved, but Thomas had to make due on short notice. He pushed a few little gold candles into the cake and left it to be lit later. Everything was ready. Now, Thomas just had to hope Roman would stick around long enough to see how much he was loved. 

“Hey, Aleks,” Thomas greeted warmly- even if it hid a touch of melancholy- as he opened the door to his friend, ushering the other man into his apartment and closing the door. He conversed with Aleks while the camera and equipment were set up and offered hospitality, but in the end, he supposed he was only prolonging the fear of rejection. He took a breath and closed his eyes. 

Roman. The call was clear. Thomas’ voice in his head still made his heart sting, but he promised always to come when Thomas called. Wiping his tear-flushed face, Roman took a steadying breath of his own and appeared. Because of his aversion to meeting Thomas’ eyes, he immediately saw all of the decorations adorning the apartment, the perfect banner, the camera, the photographer. He was almost speechless. Almost. He took in every little detail in awe, mouth open slightly. The prince finally met Thomas’ eyes for the first time in nearly two months. “You did all of this… for me?” 

“Of course, I did, Roman. You’re my hero.” The creative Side let out a shaky breath and put a hand over his mouth, holding back tears, these ones not caused by pain or grief for the first time in weeks, but by an overwhelming sense of love and happiness. “I thought you’d forget…” The words stung Thomas’ heart, but he should have expected that. “I’d never forget. I’d never forget any of you, but of course I’d never forget you, Roman. It’s your day. And… I want to make up for everything. I want you to have a good day.” Roman took another breath. “And I’m not even camera ready…” “Take your ti--” Before Thomas could even finish his sentence, Roman spun around and no longer looked like the picture of grief: the wrinkles gone from his clothes, his hair neat, his face no longer red, and his eyes no longer watery and puffy. He offered Thomas one of his charming smiles that Thomas couldn’t help but mirror. “There. Now I’m ready for my close up!” The prince struck a pose and raised an eyebrow and it warmed Thomas’ heart to see him back to his old self, even temporarily. Who knew he merely needed to cater to Roman’s vanity and stroke his ego? 

Thomas smiled at his Creativity and let Aleks get started on the photo shoot, using his Alexa to turn Roman’s playlist on as he stepped away into the kitchen. He lit the candles on Roman’s cake and carried it carefully out to him, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him with a smile on his own face. 

Excitedly, Roman stood in front of Thomas; he closed his eyes and made a wish before blowing the candles out in one sweeping breath. He grinned brightly at Thomas and Thomas thought they might actually be okay.

“Oh. You know. That actually gives me a good idea,” Aleks input. “Can you cut a slice for a photo? With a candle. And… relight it, please?” Thomas nodded and left them again to return to the kitchen. He cut a large slice from the cake and put it on a small marble cutting board- much more aesthetically pleasing than a plate. He relit the candle and carried it to Aleks who created a makeshift table in their makeshift studio, draped with a velvet cloth and fairy lights. Roman is served the cake, some photos are taken and the candle is extinguished before the slice is set aside for later. Thomas mostly stays out of the way, happy to watch Roman enjoying himself. This is for him, after all. Not for Thomas. Well, maybe it’s a little bit selfish. Thomas has just missed Roman so much. And now, even while getting his pictures taken, the prince is finally singing again. Eventually, Aleks packed up his equipment and left and Thomas sat down at the regular table to have cake with Roman. He sighed. “I know it’s not perfect and only a quarter of what you deserve, but… I hope I was able to give you a good birthday celebration, even as small as it is. I was afraid you weren’t going to show up.”    “Oh, Thomas. It’s all been absolutely wonderful. Thank you. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you. I’m… I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you with my grief. But today you made me feel… valued. And I appreciate that. Thank you.” Thomas, choking back emotions, reached across the table and touched Roman’s arm. “You are valued. Thank you for finally giving me a chance to show you that. I really missed you. Happy Birthday, Roman.” He smiled and it was immediately mirrored by the prince. They really were going to be okay.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #character!thomas #thomas sanders #roman's birthday #gen fanfic #birthday fic #hurt/comfort #mild angst #angst #hurt comfort #general fanfic

[pinktatertots99]

so @keiiilalei wasn’t satisfied with the fic and changed more stuf so this is vers 3.

vers 1 with the prompt post it’s from

vers 2

__________________

“IF I COULD DIG MY TEETH INTO YOUR DAMN THROAT, AND PULL OUT YOUR VOCAL CORDS, I WOULD!” Aculeatus exclaimed as Barbata tried to hold him back with all his strength. Acu’s arms were still outstretched trying to get to Aechmea, fighting his exhaustion from the brief but brutal confrontation between them.

“You, sending a barely-experienced child to fulfill our mission on all their own, is this all a game to you!?” he shouted as Aechmea took a couple steps back as precaution.

“And here I thought you’d be grateful. It’s but a small price to pay for freedom. Regardless, the prayer machine will work again, with their help,” he stated firmly.

“All I went through, my sister, everyone...” Acu bit his lip, going limp as Barbata looked to Aechmea desperately.

“Sir, there’s gotta be another way.”

“If there was another way, we would’ve taken it long ago.”

“But what if… we could… There’s still time to-”

“The date has already been arranged. In a few short days, young Phosphophyllite, along with Padparadscha and Yellow Diamond, will activate the prayer machine.” Aechmea looked down to Phos who was sprawled across the floor in pieces, somehow still with a loose grip on their spear. The young gem caught word of the fight and sprinted to the scene as fast as their new legs could carry them. They had leaped into the princes’ crossfire just in time to deflect a potentially fatal blow from Aechmea.

As the twin nurses and the general rushed to gather Phos’ pieces, Barbata could feel his legs shaking as he tried to stay standing enough to walk out of the courtyard. It was hopeless to stop the Moon Prince; once his mind was set, nothing would deter him. Barbata was about to collapse himself when Acu suddenly mustered the strength to stand on his own and grab hold of his wrist. 

“I am finished with you,” he hissed, lifting his head to scowl at Aechmea.

“As am I,” Aechmea replied, turning away to head back to his quarters. “And I’m certain King Ventricosus would love to hear about what just transpired.” Acu stiffened for a second before taking another few moments to calm down. After his eyes followed the nurses who were carrying Phos to the infirmary, he then turned his tired face to the scientist, a broken “let’s go” escaping from his blood-smeared lips. 

___________________

Wrapping the gauze over a scratch on one of Acu’s arms, both sat on the edge of Barbata’s apartment bed, where no one could do them any more harm, at least for the time being. The room remained uncannily quiet except for the unravelling of tape, until the slug broke the silence.

“I thought… everything was… going well.” Barbata looked up slightly to find the slug looking downwards. “But my selfishness… my persistence keeps getting in the way. I just wanted to fix things.” Barbata chimed in.

“What Aechmea said was… actually right. If there was a better way to send us Lunarians off, we would have found it by now.

“But I could have done something more, maybe earned more trust from the gems, kept Phos safe when they needed it, anything at all. I cannot stand the thought of their family being torn apart…” Barbata wanted to believe a better method of achieving nothingness was still out there, and could release  the perpetrators of this cycle of suffering out of the living world for good. He felt great shame at the fact it had taken him this long to realize how ruthless and uncaring Aechmea was at his core.

“With things being set in stone, would those efforts even amount to anything?”

“But we have been TRYING SO HARD!” Acu exclaimed before settling down, hiding his face in his knees as Barbata patted his back.

“At least... you’re not part of the problem, like me.” Acu looked up in confusion at what Barbata just said. The scientist continued, “All this time...I thought I was helping to achieve some big cause… I wanted to move on, I wanted to get out of this cycle of living. But I was so wrapped up in that desire that I didn’t even see the bigger picture.”

“But we can still change things, can we not?”

Barbata chuckled lightly. “I couldn't take leadership. Instead I watched as Aechmea accumulated power ‘cuz I sure as hell didn’t know what to do.” Looking down, he continued. “I knew he was a dick, but man...I’ve never wanted to fade away more than I do right now.” Struck with disbelief at this confession, Acu pivoted over his knee to stand above Barbata, and lifted his face so their eyes would meet.

“Don’t say such things,” Acu stated shakily as he moved to hold his face. “You had no idea he would go this far, you just wanted peace.”

“And that’s gonna excuse all the lives I watched get shredded up? And continue to be destroyed as we speak?!” Barbata refuted, moving his hand to Acu’s hip, tracing the burn mark he received just before bringing Phos to the Moon. “No matter what I do to help, innocent people like you keep getting hurt.” He paused as Acu petted his cheek lightly.

“Show me your scars again.”

Barbata’s face flushed a sunset hue as he moved to take off his coat and unbutton his shirt, showing off the surgical scars on his chest. They’d managed to follow him into his existence as a wandering soul, and were the only part of him that he couldn't alter with his shapeshifting ability, no matter how hard he tried. But Aculeatus had always lovingly admired them, probably because they both had scars of their own, giving them at least one thing in common.

“See? We both have been through quite a lot,” Acu said through a chuckle. “And we can make it through this ordeal, too.” Opening his arms a bit, Barbata let the slug slink down to latch on tightly, resting his head on his chest as Barbata rested his own head on Acu’s.

“I suppose...if there is nothing we can do...we should prepare for the worst, then?” he asked as Barb chuckled in response, cloudy tears falling down his cheeks. “Yeah, I think so, probably,” he mumbled as Acu held him close. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not leaving your side until the end.”

“And I won’t either, amica mea.”

#hnk #lotl #kingdom of gems #houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #fanfiction #au #acubarba #acubarb #aculeatus x barbata #barbata x aculeatus #the pink one speaks

[hermannsthumb]

75, but kinda like a secuel to your fic for 3?

halloween is over which means it’s officially that time of year where i watch a bunch of shitty hallmark movies as background noise and imagine newt and hermann in all the romantic scenarios instead........AND revisit all my leftover winter ficlet prompts from last year! the op of the original prompt list has since moved to pillowfort so i’ll link the list from there instead. this one is a sequel to one i wrote last year (one of my favorites of my own imo) w/ cool uncle hermann and hot single middleschool science teacher newt found here

75. our first date is spent walking around our small town holding hands and talking as soft snow falls around us 

from winter writing prompts here

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

It gets dark before long, and--following a quick text from Karla informing Hermann she’s finished her errands and is on her way to pick the three of them up--Hermann decides he ought to round up her kids. The string lights hung around the ice rink have flickered to life, and between them, the haze of the falling snow, and the fresh piles of it gathering atop the nearby pine trees, it makes for a strangely pretty picture.

The snow flecking Dr. Geiszler’s eyelashes makes for a pretty picture, too.

“I’ll get them,” he says, when Hermann stretches his stuff limbs with a groan and prepares to trek back across the snow. He stills Hermann with a hand to his arm. He’s still wearing the silly mittens. “No offense, dude, but they’ll definitely listen to me more than you.” He waggles his eyebrows and gestures to himself with his thumb. “Teacher.”

Hermann nods and sags back against the railing. He wasn’t fancying the idea of shaking life back into his frozen joints and shouting himself hoarse anyway. “Thank you, Dr. Geiszler.”’

“Newt,” Geiszler corrects with a wink. “You wanna hang back with me so we can get that coffee? My apartment’s only a few minutes away, I can give you a ride to your sister’s afterwards.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.” Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Geiszler to make good on his invitation. Hermann isn’t the sort who gets asked out on spur-of-the-moment dates, especially not by cute, scruffy strangers; it seemed too good to be true.

“Be a second,” Geiszler says, and then cups his hands around his mouth and bellows, “Hey, guys, over here in five minutes or you’re on lab clean-up duty for all of January!”

This gets their attention. Fast. After a minor setback involving a missing hat (found, as it were, in a snowbank on the other side of the railing), they’re ready to go with time to spare when Karla’s car pulls up at the curb. She rolls down the passenger window while her children (pushing aside shopping bags and flinging in wet coats) clamber into the backseat, and waves at Hermann. “Did you have fun?” she says.

“Oh, loads of it,” Hermann says, sarcastically. Karla grants him a small, amused smile. (You’d be hard-pressed to get much more out of a Gottlieb, really. Hermann often envies her children for how easily mirth comes to them.)

“Well, your torture is over at last,” Karla says. “Get in. I got Indian takeaway for dinner.”

Behind Hermann, Geiszler coughs, and Hermann flushes. He hadn’t forgotten Geiszler--not by any means--but he’s not quite sure how to explain I have a date to his sister in terms that don’t use the word date. Date carries an awful lot of baggage. “Ah, actually,” he says. His voice sounds falsely casual even to his own ears. “That won’t be--necessary. Dr. Geiszler has offered to take me home.”

“Hi,” Geiszler says.

Karla peers around Hermann and narrows her eyes. “You played the piano at the winter program,” she says.

“Sure did,” Geiszler says. “I organized the whole thing, too.”

“Dr. Geiszler is going on a date with Uncle Hermann,” Hermann’s niece informs her mother solemnly. 

“It’s coffee,” Hermann says quickly. “Only coffee.”

“Coffee and a ride back on my motorcycle,” Geiszler confirms.

Motorcycle? Karla nods slowly. “Of course.” The window rolls back up, but not before--like he’s still her kid brother, and she’s caught him sneaking out the back door at midnight to meet up with a boyfriend all over again--she calls out “Don’t stay out too late, Hermann!”

Her car peels away.

Geiszler sticks out his hand. Hermann takes it.

The coffee shop Geiszler takes him to is two blocks away on main street, kitschy and tacky as anything from the outside, and has, predictably, closed early by the time they get there. The sign in the window blames it on the inclement weather. Geiszler scuffs his unlaced boot against the snowy sidewalk and groans. “Well, fuck,” he says. “Sorry. I guess there’s always Starbucks. This place rocks, though, I wanted you to see it.”

Hermann gives his hand a consolatory squeeze. “Oh, I don’t need coffee, anyway,” he says. “The cup you bought me at the rink was just fine.”

“The cup I bought you at the rink tasted like shit,” Geiszler says.

“It was fine,” Hermann says.

“Dinner, then,” Geiszler says, peering up the street at whatever still has its lights on. Most of the businesses, Hermann realizes (from the Indian place Karla ordered from, the antique shop, the used bookstore) have closed early tonight. There’s a single diner, equally kitschy-looking, still lit up with neon. “Do you like…” He hums. “...Hamburgers?”

“Not particularly.”

“Neither do I,” Geiszler admits. “What about--”

“How about we just take a walk, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann cuts across. “I’m really not that hungry, and it’s...a nice night.” It is, really: fluffy snow, and old-fashioned lamp posts, and not a car in sight. Geiszler’s rainbow flappy hat and lumpy mittens. 

“It’s Newt, dude. Newt,” Geiszler insists, but he links their arms together with a smile.

They make their way back down to the park that houses the skating rink--now also closed for the night--and start down a small, well-lit path. “So what’s the infamous Uncle Hermann doing in all the way over here?” Geiszler says. “The kids said you teach in England.” He nudges their shoulders together and grins. “You don’t exactly sound like a local, anyway.”

“Winter holiday,” Hermann says. “I’ve a month off of work, and nothing to do with myself, really, and I don’t see my sister all too often--well, she thought it’d be good for us if I came to stay. For me. What’s a scientist doing at a middleschool hosting winter programs?”

Geiszler laughs. “The arts are important, man!”

“But a middleschool--out of everything you could be doing--”

“I like it,” Geiszler says. “It’s--I don’t know. Fun. I like teaching kids. Like I’m shaping scientists of the future or whatever.” Hermann hums, skeptically, and Geiszler sticks his tongue out. “Okay, I know that was corny. Shut up.”

They loop the whole of the park, hand-in-hand, and talk about the most inconsequential things: the weather (the first snowfall Hermann’s witnessed this December), their research (Geiszler is astoundingly intelligent, with a comical amount of PhDs), Geiszler’s mittens (personally hand-knitted after all), how much longer Hermann is in town for (until mid-January), how Geiszler ended up at that middleschool in the first place (he moved to town to be near his father, and they were hiring for Earth Science and Music). Their footprints have entirely disappeared under fresh snow when they make it back to the ice rink. It’s far later than Hermann realized, too; the large clock hanging at the front booth reads a quarter past ten.

“I guess I should take you back to your sister’s,” Geiszler says. He points in the opposite direction of where they walked main street before. “I’m down that way. I--”

He doesn’t get to finish, because Hermann (feeling pleasant and bold) leans in and brushes a kiss against his cheek. It’s cold and scratchy with his stubble. “I would like to do this again,” Hermann says, while Geiszler blushes and gapes. His glasses have slid all the way down his nose. Hermann pushes them back up for him. “If you’re amenable.”

“Wow,” Geiszler says, giddily. “Sure. Okay. Hah!”

Then he steps directly onto a patch of ice and slips and falls on his face.

Luckily, he hits the snow, though he does lay there for some time and groan. It’s a bit dramatic. Hermann pokes the small of his back with his cane once he starts to get bored. “Are you alright, Newt?”

Geiszler groans again, though with a distinctly affirmative flair, and rolls over. “You called me Newt,” he says. He pushes his glasses back up again.

“I did,” Hermann says, with a very small smile. Then he shivers. The chilly air has gotten a lot more noticeable now that he’s standing still. “Now please get up and take me home before we both freeze to death.”

“Cool, okay.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #feel free to send some in lmaoooo we've got 2 months #benito-el-gato-con-gorrito

[innerpostmentality]

Dos’ Mou Ena Fili - Kiss me

A TRR AU Fan Fic Featuring King Liam X Hyclea (OC) 

All Rights to Choices characters and setting to Pixelberry Studios 

This is set after the the wedding of Stephanie and Drake.

Warnings: Erotica, long post Word count: Around 3050 Tags: @hopefulmoonobject @darley1101 @tornbetween2loves @kennaxval @carabeth @custaroonie @gardeningourmet @stopforamoment @indiacater   Hyclea sat before her mirror lost in thought. This was new territory for her. Her mind running in circles around a central theme that was the King of Cordonia. There was no doubt at all there was a fierce passion between them urging their union. She had staunchly repressed her own desire to answer it. It was true that she was busy. She was always busy. But the last week since their breakfast at Tevi’s she wasn’t just busy; she was making certain to stay busy.    Glass was demanding. You only had a handful of minutes with any piece where it was workable. You could put it back in the fire and get another handful of minutes at a time. Or you could recycle the glass. But the art was formed in intense moments of precise action. Relationships on the other hand. That was far more complicated. Certainly precise action could alter the course but more than one hand was directing the work.    Liam was remarkably transparent to her. And she knew that was in itself unusual. He was a trained politician, a master of pleasant façade by trade. That coupled with having had his heart broken very recently should make him much more guarded. And to others she thought he likely was. She frowned as she realized she may have already stepped into the oven as it were. 

  Pulling her development notebook out where she did the sketch work and intricate planning for every piece she would be blowing she looked over the pages from the last week. Every page had some sketch of or related to Liam. Cordonian crest ornaments, Crown ornaments, a thumbnail of Liam smiling, a thumbnail of Liam’s expression when he sipped his coffee, a sketch of their hands holding, every page had Liam there. So it wasn’t a matter of if she should undertake this. Now she realized he was already in her life. Her phone pinged with a text message. She knew without looking it would be Liam and found herself smiling.

Liam:  Good Morning Beautiful! What are your plans for the day?  Sketching out some presents for your friends.  Completing a crystal stemware set. Working out some ideas.  And what is on the King’s agenda for the day?                :Hyclea                                       Liam:   Convincing you to have lunch with me.    So if I look at your daily planner I’m going to see, “Convince Hyclea to join me for lunch.”                                                                         :Hyclea Liam:  Well it’s not the only thing on there.    That’s probably a good thing for the country.                :Hyclea Liam:  There’s also, “Convince Hyclea to come with me horseback riding, and “Convince Hyclea to join me for dinner. Tomorrow I have, “Ask Hyclea to come to Rome for a weekend.”         Okay.                                                                         :Hyclea Liam:                  ……………………                     ……………………………….

                       Okay to what?        What time is your lunch?                                            :Hyclea Liam: 1, but if a different time would work better I can move it. I can send a car.         I’ll see you at 1.  And I can find the palace.         No need to send a car.                                             :Hyclea

   By noon she had finished the work that she had to be involved in and had set her assistants up with directives for the rest of the day. She told them she would be going to the palace and had some other errands and didn’t expect to be back before closing. She took their knowing smiles in stride chuckling with them at their playful teasing about catching herself a king.

  The minister of agriculture was presenting his 15thpower point slide, this one was a projection of root crop production vs domestic demand.

 Liam glanced at his phone and saw the time was 12:30. He held up his hand and the Minister paused in his explanation of why beet production would be better this year. “Minister Trimnos forgive us but we have another appointment we need to prepare for. Might you return at some point later this week for the conclusions? Please see our assistant to get you on our schedule. We appreciate your work and this has been most informative. He stood and shook the man’s hand.

   Liam left the room and realized he was nervous as a teenager. She was coming for lunch. It was the first time he’d gotten her to come to the palace. He couldn’t remember what lunch was scheduled to be today. He knew it was usually served in his office. Now he was thinking maybe he should have it served on the east balcony. Or maybe the conservatory? He should brush his teeth. He dashed to his office and his private bathroom which was closer than his quarters. Checking his phone he only had 15 minutes until she would be there. He decided he didn’t have time for a shower. But grabbed his spare shirt slipping out of the one he had just put on that morning. He was trying to figure out whether he needed to change ties when there was a knock on the door. “Enter”

  Bastien stepped in giving a casual bow, “Majesty, Miss Diama has arrived. Shall I have her escorted here?”

   “I thought we might have lunch on the east balcony. It’s a beautiful day and the gardens are lovely.”

  Bastien studied Liam for a long moment and nodded then called into his headset to change the location of the king’s lunch from his office to the balcony off the Queen’s suite.

  Liam followed him out settling his tie in place as he went to the main stairs.  She was there studying one of the paintings. It depicted a family enjoying a light dappled lawn in the midst of a garden. She turned as he started descending the stairs into the entryway and smiled at him dropping into a curtsy as he approached her. “Your Majesty, thank you for inviting me.”

  There she was in a little open shouldered paisley print dress, as casual as a daisy in a rose garden and he was speechless from her beauty. Her hair was fastened back with a red scrunchie. And she was wearing little low heeled strappy black sandals.  He took her hand bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, falling into the violet pool of her gaze. “You came.”

   She lifted her brow and her smile widened. “Of course.” She studied him as he held her hand. “I was just admiring your Monet. He really is extraordinary with how he depicts light.”

  He felt her voice like the most intimate touch caressing him and he wanted to kiss her in that moment more than he wanted to breathe. But if he did he thought he would be like dry tinder soaked in fuel with a match set to it. He saw the blush rise to her cheek before she slipped her hand from his and wrapped it around the crook of his arm.

   “So might I impose upon your Majesty for a little tour while I’m here.” Her smile was gentle.

   “Please, Liam, just Liam is fine. No need for formality. And yes, of course. I’d be happy to show you my home.” He stood there paralyzed staring at the perfect rosy cupids bow of her mouth.

  “Your Majesty, your lunch has been set on the East Balcony as you requested.” Bastien’s announcement broke the spell and Liam found himself grinning and flushing with embarrassment.

  “Pardon Hyclea. Shall we have some lunch and I’ll show you the palace afterward?”

  She stroked his arm and patted it. “That would be lovely, Liam.” 

  He led her up two flights of stairs and into the East wing where the royal residence quarters were toward the back of the palace. Middle of the hallway a set of double doors opened into a richly appointed sitting room, pale seafoam green brocade upholstery covered the two antique Chippendale sofas and matching arm chairs. And marble topped tables by each chair and between the sofas set with bouquets of fresh flowers completed the impression of elegance of the room.  On the left side heavy draperies were drawn back revealing double French doors that were opened onto a large balcony.  On the balcony a glass table and chairs were set with a light lunch of grilled sea bass and salad, a bottle of chilled Chardonnay and a basket of bread sat waiting for them. Hyclea lifted a brow and smiled as she looked at the view of the gardens in full fall bloom. She had noticed as they came through the hallways the guards who gave small bows to their king. She noticed that beyond the hallway doors to this room there were no guards. So she looked at the lovely repast  and then at Liam whose eyes had been fixed on her since she first saw him. “I think if I were to read your mind at this moment our lunch would get cold.”

   Liam blushed. “Hyclea you know I can’t deny that.” He took her hand from his arm and kissed her knuckles again looking in her eyes. Before sighing and letting her go just long enough to pull her chair out for her. She set her purse down, a leather portable case actually this day. Practical, he thought and  grinned broadly enough to show his dimple. He moved his plate to sit next to her rather than across from her. And poured the wine for them. “I’ve missed you. I’d almost decided that you were avoiding me.”

   She sipped the wine savoring the clean fruity soft sweetness of it. “Perhaps I was.”

   Liam frowned, “I hope I have not offended you. I do not mean to pressure you.”

   She tasted the fish, smiling at the perfectly cooked and seasoned delicate flavor. “This is delicious. Please give your chef my compliments.” She looked at him and shook her head. “It’s not anything you have done. Well other than making me fairly obsessed with you.”

   He grinned, pleased but puzzled. “I’m not sure if this is good or bad. I’m happy that you are thinking of me. But disturbed that it would cause you to avoid me.”

  “Eat, Liam.” She chuckled. “I promise I’m not going to run off.” She took another bite and focused on her food for a few minutes. After her sea bass was consumed she sat back sipping her wine and studying him. When he had finished he sat back and met her gaze.

   “I’m curious Liam, how would you describe me?”

   “You’re testing me again?” he smiled and reached for her hand. “You are incredibly perceptive. Remarkably intelligent. Brilliantly artistic. Thoughtful, fascinating, beautiful. You’re a business woman, a mentor, kind…” He shrugged. “I see so many things when I look at you.”

   “You left out cautious.” She shook her head. “I’m cautious almost to a fault, Liam. I think things through. Plan them out. Look before so hard sometimes I forget to leap. It’s a fault as much as an asset.”

  Liam’s dark eyes locked with her deep violet gaze and he stood urging her to her feet, “Dos mou ena fili. Don’t think. Filise me.” His voice was soft, filled with all the passion coursing through him. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and then her mouth touched his, butterfly soft, sweet with the wine. His hands cupped her face, trembling as desire engulfed him. He tasted her lips, a rising desperate need to deepen their kiss swiped his tongue across the fullness of her lips, pressing as he groaned in need. She moaned his name and opened her mouth accepting his invasion. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers slipping into his hair as their tongues danced and heat blossomed in them both. Time stopped as their kiss freed them and desire for each other became their world.

She arched against him like a great cat breaking the kiss and purring his name. “Liam… There’s so much you don’t know about me.” He was kissing down her throat. Reaching down he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt him hard against her and leaned next to his ear whispering low, “Take me.”

His eyes completely black with his need flew to hers searching. “Are you sure? Hyclea?”

She felt him shaking with his need as he held her and she knew her legs couldn’t hold her. In answer her mouth pressed to his again and she gently sucked his tongue into her mouth.

He gasped pressing her against the doorframe, fumbling to free himself, “This isn’t…” Her hand found his aching cock dripping with need wrenching another groan from his depths as he desperately fought for a shred of control. He gasped her name. “I can’t …” He managed to pull the sopping strip of her thong aside as she pressed his tip into her soaking entrance. She curved her hips into his thrust and cried out as her release pulled him deeper demanding his. He was lost to any sense but the undeniable need to join her release gripping him. “My Queen.” His eyes locked with hers as he came deeply in her. Joined and one the conviction so complete he held her firmly crying out his joy in their union at long last. He pressed his forehead to hers as they gasped recovering still in the door against the open frame.

She laughed that low chuckle that he felt in his heart. “Hey.”

He was grinning. He just couldn’t stop. “I have no idea what to say. I… god….” He blushed and shook his head. “I’m taking the day off. I may take the week off. I want to carry you into the bedroom and make love to you properly but I have to fasten my pants or risk falling on you.” He was chuckling as he set her down carefully stepping back and pulling up his pants. Then he lifted her bridal fashion and carried her into the Queen’s bedroom before he set her down again and kissed her. “I should have told you to kiss me that first night. I feel like I’ve waited forever and now I can’t believe you are here. Dos’ Mou Ena Fili.” He kissed her again. Pulled her tight to him. “Hyclea, be my queen. I love you. I don’t want to push you. But I know.” He laughed in pure joy. “I love you. I could court you but I want to marry you. You don’t have to answer me now. I know it’s sudden.”

She pulled back smiling. “Yes.”

He looked at her a moment surprised. “Yes, yes?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He looked at her in wonder for a second then his eyes got wide. “I don’t even have a ring. Oh god I’m sorry.”

She laughed and kissed him. “I don’t need a ring Liam. But I will need a workshop.” She grinned.

“Look what you do to me.” He was hard against her again.

She loosened his tie and started unbuttoning his vest. “I think you wear too many uncomfortable clothes.”

He laughed and shrugged out of his jacket. “Terrible lack of planning on my part. I know.” He dropped the Saville Row suit jacket on the carpet. “Maybe you can help me with this.”

“I’d be honored, my King.” She grinned at him. And he pulled her against him and unzipped the back of her dress letting his hands explore the silky planes of her back, unhooking her bra. “I want to bathe you.”

“You want to bathe me?” His voice was hoarse as she unbuttoned his shirt.

She nodded and looked up at him desire and mischief in her violet eyes. “With my tongue. Like a puppy.”

He gasped as she trailed her fingers down his chest then followed with her tongue. He hadn’t re-buckled his belt so one dexterous flick with her fingers and his pants were undone. She knelt before him as she freed him from his pants and briefs. She stroked him looking in his eyes, “You are magnificent.” Then her mouth was on him and his fingers were in the soft silk of her hair.

Soon he was gasping pulling her up, smoothing her dress off her shoulders along with her bra leaving her in nothing but her thong. He stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed pulling her to him. She looked in his eyes as she slid the thong off and carefully climbed on the bed to straddle him. She lowered herself slowly onto his hardness then arched her back and started rolling her hips pressing him deep into her hot wetness. He reached between them to stroke her sensitive bud glorying in the joy on her face as they edged each other toward and then almost suddenly completion blossomed in both of them eyes going wide sighing into each other’s mouths their ecstasy. Liam held her to him, catching his breath before he chuckled and kicked off his shoes.

“Well I’m getting better. I was less dressed this time.”

She laughed stroking his cheek. “Well I don’t guess you have order in clothing? I didn’t bring a spare dress.”

“What makes you think I’m ever going to let you get dressed again?” He lifted a brow and smirked.

She lifted her brow… “I just suspected that you would not be pleased with me strolling around in public nude.”

He looked like he was considering seriously for a minute before he burst out laughing. “I’m not quite that ready to share the greatest natural beauty of my country with the people…”

“Fortunately I think there are likely a couple of spa robes in the bathroom closet. And a full boutique downstairs where we can find you something to wear.” He took both her hands in his. “We are going to get you a ring. And I am going to announce our engagement. Soon. Maybe not until we have a stunning ring for the press to take lots of pictures of. So once we are showered we will be going to find you a ring.” He studied her frowning a little. “Are you sure. This life is a circus. I am NOT trying to get you to reconsider.”

She studied him stroking his cheeks and smoothing his mussed hair. “I love you. And while I am cautious and it takes me awhile to make up my mind I don’t tend to change it. Yes. Still Yes, Liam.” 

#trr fanfic #choices trr #trr liam #trr liam x hyclea trr au fanfic

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 9.3: Blue Ain’t (Usually) My Color

           [Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Stretch receives conflicting advice on how to go about fixing this. He decides to go the middle ground of big, heartfelt gestures that say ‘sorry’ without actually saying it. What could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Red (Underfell Sans)& Blue (Underswap Sans)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Different monster cultural traditions between universes!  

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note: Sorry this took me forever! In hindsight, I should have finished this part before starting my event, huh? I got like an ask or 2 left for that! I kinda wanna keep it up for fun tho, in case y’all have any other questions, but hmmm... idk! idk~

“Huh?” Red looked at him like he grew another head- that devious bastard was actually trying to act dumb! “Fuck ya talkin’-“

“I hurt Edge’s feelings, bad, so I gotta make all of this up to him.” Stretch shifted restlessly, “How do I apologize to him? What would a Fell monster do?”

“Fell don’t apologize, ‘cause Fell ain’t got no feelin’s! Just act normal ‘n like there ain’t nothin’ bad.” Red mimed brushing dust off of his jacket, “Ya forget? I forget. S’easy!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Blue crossed his arms over his chest, looking pensive, “You’re not Fell, and Edge won’t expect a Fell-style apology from you. Actually, he might be more hurt by the fact it looks like you don’t care.”

His face must have fallen, because Blue immediately continued, “So, I think you should just talk to him! Say you realized you hurt his feelings, apologize, and that you want to make it up to him!”

“Is this like a dungeon puzzle?” Stretch put his head on the table, “I don’t know. What question do I ask so I know which of you is lying and which of you is telling the truth?”

Distantly, he heard Blue explain over his head, hand patting his back, “It’s a movie reference.”

“Ok, whatever, we don’t got all fuckin’ day.” Red must have leaned on the table, because he sounded a lot closer in an instant, “Why don’tcha do both? Sorry by gettin’ Edge somethin’ nice ‘nstead a’pologizin’, yeah?”

“Like what?” Stretch turned his face onto the side of his arm with a dejected sigh, unable to muster the strength to lift his head. Trying to fight against biology was too much work- he was just gonna be an emotional mess for the rest of this quarter. Thanks a lot, Pancake.

“From you?” Red squinted at him, hand drumming on the table, “Uh, sing. One ‘a them cowboy songs.”

Stretch sat up abruptly, whacking at where his ears should have be. “Huh?!”

“Ya made a mixtape one Gyftmas, yeah?” Red knew about that?! Why did Red know about that?! “S’favorite gift ya ever gave. Goddamn brat listened to it fuckin’ thousand times.”

“That was a gag gift!” Stretch couldn’t believe it, a weird mix of touched and embarrassed and confused. “He wasn’t supposed to like it!!! I- I yodeled, man! There was a banjo- I don’t know how to play the banjo! I play the harboneica! I put so much ‘twang’ into the first like 3 songs I kept coughing throughout ‘I’ve got Spurs that Jingle Jangle Jingle!’ And you’re telling me he liked it?!” He dragged his hands down his face, wishing he could sink into the floor. (and still kinda weird pleased) “He listened to it! More than once?!”

Blue laughed lightly, turning his face away as though that were any less humiliating for his poor, embarrassed, put-upon brother, “I remember.” Why did Blue remember?! What did he remember?!

“Sorry, Papy,” Blue didn’t look or sound apologetic enough, “But you were singing at the top of yours lungs and you kept crashing into things. You were laughing almost the entire time, though, so I assumed you were having a good time.”

“Ughhhh...” Stretch tried to slide down the cushioned seats and onto the floor as Red and Blue snickered. Laughing at his expense. Traitors. “Is that what Edge liked about it so much? Making fun of me?”

“Ya damn well know that ain’t true.” Red wasn’t quite as smiley anymore.

“Then why-?”

“ ‘Cause he’s sappy as shit!” Red was at the end of his patience, bringing his hands down hard enough to shake the table, “He likes bein’ able to be soft with ya, ok?! All them singin’ bad ‘n dancin’ in the kitchen kinda shit! So pick yer noggin fer somethin’ sugary as hell ‘n just!” He gestured, articulating something Stretch could barely understand. “Fuckin’! Don’t apologize like a bitch! Seduce him like a nerd!”

“Ok!” This was sounding like a better and better plan! Be as charming and goofy and lovable romcom protagonist-y as possible, sweep Edge off his high heels, and get everything back to normal! With the added bonus of making Edge super happy and letting him know he was deeply, truly loved! Brilliant!

“Blue!” He turned to his brother, an excited twinkle to his eye, “How do I do that? What are the best romcom tropes and treats?”

“Um.” Blue’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as Red leered at him, but he soldiered on, “You could leave him cute voice messages of you singing for him. Uh, he’s more of a savory person, so some biscuits or something from the Barkery might be nice. Balloons? Flowers? Everybody likes flowers!”

“Y’ain’t ever get me flowers.” Red teased, grin sharp.

“Stuffed animals are popular too.” Blue ignored him, “But make sure you’re tailoring it to his interests-“

“He likes dancin’!” Red moved his torso to some imaginary beat, but with that snickering, Stretch wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not. “S’Latin night somewhere! Merengue ‘n Salsa ‘n cumbias, nuerito! Real heat up with a bachata!”

“Yeah, ok! I don’t! Know! What half of those are! But ok!” This was going to be great! Stretch pulled his brother into a hug, kissing the top of his head, “You’re a genius, bro!”

He turned to his brother-in-law, “Red-”

Red backed himself into a corner when Stretch turned to him, holding his hand out, “Ain’t gonna letcha kiss me ‘fore buyin’ dinner, Honey.”

Stretch laughed at that, Soul feeling light and suddenly incredibly happy, shaking his brother-in-law’s hand... before clanking a kiss to the back of his hand anyway. Had to practice being as charming as possible, after all!

“Thanks guys!” He was up in a moment, bouncing on the heels of his high tops excitedly, “I’m gonna hit up the Barkery to get a special order in before they close! And the flower shop! And see what other cool stuff I can find!”

“Papy-“ Blue called out, “You still need to tell him why-“

“Don’t be givin’ all at once- draw shit out!” Red was louder, obviously riling Stretch up even further, “Keep ‘im guessin’!”

Stretch was already out the door, phone to his head and waving cheerily as he ran- literally ran- off. Blue sighed deeply.

“Whatcha wanna bet on?” Red was gleefully devious, worrying at a piece of g like the caricature villain he liked to project himself as. “How’sit gonna blow? Who’s gonna blow?”

“It’s rude and in poor taste to bet against your brother and brother-in-law’s happiness.” Blue told him primly, “So, I’ll bet a compliment to Edge, on a topic of your choosing, that Edge is going to contact me to ask what’s wrong with Papy-“

“I ain’t gonna take those odds!” Red crossed his arms petulantly, “S’fuckin’ rigged, tramposo!”

“Before he rips into you for outing his cowboy kink to my brother.” Blue finished with a coy smile, laying his hands flat on the table with a shrug. “But if you’re too chicken-“

“Hah!” Red’s smile was excited and bright as he put his own hands down, palms up, “That’s good! Hell if I know! I’ll betcha...” His fingers drummed on the table pensively, “Hm... Betcha an paternal encouragin’ fer Honey. Tell ‘im he’s gonna be a good Papa.”

“Yeah, okay,” Blue reached for the hand Red offered him, turning it carefully to make sure it wasn’t booby trapped. As soon as they shook on it, Red kicked him under the table- and he got a joy buzzer to the knee.

“I hate you!” Sputtering angrily, Blue rubbed at his knee, obviously trying to dispel the lingering numbness, “You’re such an asshole!”

“Love ya too, baby cakes.” Red blew him a kiss as he stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Now hurry up ‘n grab ‘em napkins! Game’s comin’ on at 1:00, and I ain’t gonna miss it ‘cause you’re bein’ lazy.”

Red was already at the door, walking into a shortcut before he had to hear Blue cussing him out again.

FIN.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [ Part 3 - Here! ]  

#underswap sans #underfell sans #underswap papyrus #spicyhoney (implied) #skelepreg (implied) #some cherryberry tension? idk they've got a weird relationship lol #fanfic #redvelvetreel

[pennywaltzy]

To Fight For The One You Love (2/?) (A “Harmony” Story)

So this fic has also been swapped out from WIPBB and put into a series! I named the fic series after the planet that is in the book series this fic is inspired by, and I’m going to write prequels and whatnot about how Khan ended up on the planet, how Molly lived on Harmony before moving to New London and the actual event that brought them together, so this is, eventually, going to end up in the middle of the series. But please enjoy some more of this story (especially @the-consulting-strange-vidder, who asked for it initially!)

To Fight For The One You Love - Something is peculiar about his flatmate, Molly Hooper. In a new world where nearly everyone has a superhuman ability of some sort, Molly seems...different. And she arrives home early in the morning all beat up to Hell. What is she doing? Khan is determined to find out.

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 2 | SERIES PAGE | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME? | BUY ME A KOFI?  

She was rotating her head to stretch her neck the morning after he’d stayed up late into the night, thinking of her. In more ways than just concern, he had come to realize, and it had left him with restless sleep and an air of irritability this morning that he knew his assistant would catch. But for Molly, no irritability, especially as there were bruises on her arms in the shape of fingers, the palm prints and finger marks large enough to be a man’s.

“What do you do each night?” he asked, his voice almost like a purr, startling her as he came up behind her.

“I do what I need to do to survive,” she said, speaking in almost a huff as if she was offended he even ask. “I go to the tombs and trigger the traps for the hunters if you must know. Nothing can kill me, it just hurts for a moment.”

His eyes widened at that. The planet that they had all escaped to had been inhabited by a race that had seemingly abandoned it, leaving behind elaborate structures that always glowed a soft white, though brighter at night than during the day. He had no idea she was involved in the sordid and sometimes shady business of the hunters, and that explained why her home had been ransacked.

“There’s no need to do that, you know. I can support your clinic if you wish,” he said, his fingers lightly ghosting over the bruises on her arm. “The hunters aren’t…?”

She flushed. “The bruises are from them pulling me from the traps to safety. I keep telling my crew that I’m effectively immortal, but they don’t want to take the chance, not when I’m the one with the most medical knowledge if things go south.” She flushed as she said it because his implication had indeed been that they were not taking advantage of her sexually. He didn’t like the idea of her being taken by force, even by him, and he was the type to act first and ask later when those impulses took over, though usually no more than heady kissing. He knew the difference between consensual and nonconsensual acts.

“So super healing was your gift from this world,” he asked, moving his finger off her skin.

“Yes. There was an accident. I took a scalpel to the femoral artery and even though I bled I could still function. Out of curiosity, I pulled the scalpel out and the wound healed on its own. I think short of decapitation I can live through...well, anything.”

That was curious. She was like he was on Earth, it seemed, though he wondered if her blood had similar curative properties as he had. Perhaps he would tell her more later, but for now, he wanted her to be safe. His family, the ones not as well off, who insisted they could survive on this planet by themselves, needed her services and he…

Well, perhaps he simply needed her.

“Do you need an extra hand?” he asked and she looked up at him in surprise. “I got most of your items back, but knowing what you do means someone was looking for something. I can only keep you safe so far here and at the clinic; if you go into the tombs I can’t.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” she replied.

“Then why do you stay with me?” he asked, tilting his head as he looked at her.

“Because it’s...because I...” She shook her head and went back to the task of kneading bread. He had noticed she started every day by making something baked and he had to admit, it made this place seem more homelike. He had never really had a home before, not even on Earth, and this made it feel as though there was a reason to stay.

Though it was not as if they could return to Earth. Only three-quarters of the ships had made it through the portal to this world when the portals unexpectedly closed, stranding the original settlers here on the planet known as Harmony. While most of the enclaves had settled to new rules regarding marriages and relationships, meant to keep the obedience of those in the land, those who settled in New London had rebelled. They were the British contingent; it was to be expected. Marriage was still the norm, but children born as bastards did not mean the couple must form or stay in a union.

He himself had been one of those types of children on Earth, and so through his own effective immortality, he had outlived most of the original settlers, made himself an important man. The Augments such as himself had integrated themselves in New London society, and they had made things better for those children left behind. He went by John Harrison here, a businessman and philanthropist who was a mystery to most. But not, it seemed, to Molly. He looked at her and then nodded. It was home here for the both of them, not just him.

“When did you stop aging?” he asked.

She chuckled a bit, glad for the change in topic. “Twenty years ago. I hit my mid-thirties and then just seemed to not age a day. I’m in my fifties now, but am as spry and sharp as a twenty-year-old.”

“I’m quite similar,” he said. “Though admittedly, much older.”

She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look. “How old, exactly?”

“I was among the first settlers on Harmony,” he said simply. Her eyes widened at that and her jaw dropped. Not many people knew the truth, but since he had gotten an answer from her that she was, indeed, more like him than he had initially realized, and he trusted her, he felt she should know the truth. “I worked the tombs in Old Cadence, made my fortunes as a Hunter, then came here when New London was established by those who wanted more freedom.”

“I...see,” she said. “Christ, that means you’re...old.”

“I am different than many of the other settlers from Earth. I am known in Old Earth history as an Augment. There was much going on but when the Earth was destroyed myself and those like me joined among the exploration, leading others to space. We were among the few non-humans to get through the portal before it closed.”

“There are others?” she asked.

“Some of the very founders of New London,” he replied. “We had been persecuted and banished, but we were, and still are, quite fair. The original purpose for which we were augmented has passed and we’ve settled. We keep those that use their planet gifted powers for wickedness at bay, for the most part. We work with the guilds in other cities and in some cases hold positions in the background at the highest offices, if we don’t hold those high positions outright. I was a leader once, but I’m content to protect those who have no protection now.”

“Your philanthropic work, helping me keep the clinic open,” she said.

“I saw the cruelty of man. I was cruel, for a time. I have learned the error of my ways, and as we have no way back to Earth, if it’s even hospitable, we’ve made ourselves a place here. You may have heard tales of the immortals? That’s essentially what we are. We have eternal youth, super healing. We can be killed but it’s very hard.” He nodded towards her. “You may be the child of an augment yourself. It was theorized our genetic compatibility with regular humans would allow us to pass our genetic line forward, though most refuse to have children with non-augments.”

“So my healing ability...it’s not from the planet?” Molly asked.

“Perhaps not. But that means you could still have an ability, or have one you don’t realize yet.” He watched as her dust bunny Toby jumped up on her shoulder, chittering the way all dust bunnies did. Her ball of fluff was a bright orange, almost like the ginger cats of Old Earth. She reached over and gave it a cookie, and it hopped off her shoulder and then over to him. “Molly gave you a cookie, Toby. Finish that one and I’ll give you another.”

Molly smiled, the first one she had given him since the conversation started. “You’re going to spoil him.”

“I’d spoil you if you’d let me,” he said simply.

“Maybe,” she said. “But...if you’re serious about finding out why my home was vandalized, we have another tomb to get into tonight. I leave at midnight.”

He nodded. “I’ll come with you, then.”

“Alright. Now I need to finish this bread and let it start to rise for the day, and then off to work I go. I suppose if you want to spoil me you can start by updating my examination suites?”

He came over and took her flour-covered hand, kissing the back of it. “Your wish is my command.” With that, he let go of her hand and made his way to his office. There was work to do and more research to put into who would go after a full-time doctor/part-time tomb trap diffuser and why, and he only had until midnight today to start on it.

#khanolly #star trek aos #sherlock #fanfic #fanfiction #khan x molly #Khan Noonien Singh #molly hooper #multipart: to fight for the one you love #my au: harmony #theconsultingstrangevidder

[thislassishooked]

How to Carve a Turkey (Not Yourself)

I finally finished my sequel to How to Carve a Pumpkin!!! if you haven’t read it yet and are interested here’s the AO3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565039 This one has plenty of fluff and feels, but also some of my finest smut if I do say so myself. (Hey, I’m new at this, I need some shameless self promotion.) And here’s the link to this fic on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/16704463  Enjoy!

tagging a few of my friends who showed me some love @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @laschatzi @xemmaloveskillianx @winterbaby89 @hookedonapirate @bestshipcaptainswan @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @vvbooklady1256

 Emma stood from her seat and bent over to reach for the potatoes. He watched as she dipped her finger in the buttery side dish and licked it off salaciously, moaning in satisfaction. The dip in the collar of her blouse revealed her lace covered breasts and Killian had to suppress a moan of his own. Emma sucked her finger into her mouth and that’s when he felt the sharp pain between his thumb and forefinger.

Rated: M  Words: 6K Killian had been out of sorts all morning. He and Emma had decided to prepare all of their dishes for Thanksgiving dinner at her house the morning of. The reason Killian was so flustered was currently bent over, searching for a pie tin. Emma had yet to change out of her sleepwear which consisted of a black tank top and tight green shorts with the words “Kiss me, I’m Irish” written across her hind quarters. He had read it out loud the first moment he had noticed and Emma had spun around to give him a mind blowing kiss that still had his head spinning.

Killian had spent nearly all his free time with Emma and Henry, having taken Emma out every chance he since Halloween, but they had yet to take that next step in their relationship. Responsibilities and lack of time seemed to keep getting in the way. There was also the matter of Henry. Emma didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of making love for the first time with Henry in the house. He had to agree with her on that one.

The reason for his reverie righted herself, turning to him in triumph, pan in hand. She handed it to him. “Thank you, love.” He took it to his side of the counter where his dough was waiting to be placed inside. He was baking a cinnamon apple pie, an homage to his Swan’s delicious scent. As he was dumping his apple mixture, Emma came up to him from behind, wrapping her arms around his chest and placing soft kisses along his neck. Her mouth on him was not helping him in his current predicament. A groan escaped his throat when she nipped at his pulse point. Seconds later they heard loud footfalls as Henry made his way downstairs. Killian turned quickly, spinning Emma in his arms so she stood in front of him, hiding the evidence of his prominent erection. He heard Emma gasp as his cock pressed against her backside.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Henry crooned excitedly.

“Happy Turkey Day to you as well, lad,” Killian greeted.

“Mom, are you okay? You look like I do when I have a fever.”

Killian snorted into her hair, knowing exactly what was wrong with her.

“Yeah, kid,” she started, elbowing Killian playfully as she spoke, eliciting an ‘oomph’ out of him. “I am just a little flushed from all the… anticipation. You know me I love a good feast.” Killian couldn’t help but breath her in in that moment, his arousal only building with each passing second.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go play some xbox. You should probably take some medicine though, just in case you’re getting sick.” He scampered off just as Emma spun back around, the effect he had on her evident from the tips of her ears all the way to the swell of her breasts. The lust he saw in her eyes had him fully hard.

“I’d very much like to feast on you, Swan,” he said as he pressed his lips to hers, pulling a moan from her at the contact.

“You fight dirty, Jones,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“You have no idea, love,” he said as he lifted her up and placed her on the island where his unfinished pie sat.

“Killian, we can’t, Henry is in the other room,” she protested weakly.

“I’m not going to try any funny business, love. I’m simply giving my girlfriend her medicine.” Emma wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. They continued to make out until the buzzer on the oven brought them back to reality. The pie, right, that was why he was in her kitchen, greedily devouring her mouth and neck. Killian reluctantly pulled away and released his hold on her hips. They both resumed their preparations. One of these days he was going to get her alone and ravish that gorgeous body.

__________

Emma stepped out of the shower a couple hours later, having finished preparing her yams. She was so excited to get to share Killian’s first Thanksgiving with him and the heat from the shower was not the only cause of her flushed skin. Henry had asked her last night if he could spend tonight at David and Mary Margaret’s house because Leo had gotten a new game for his xbox. After confirming with David that Henry was welcome to stay the night, Emma enthusiastically gave her permission. Probably too enthusiastically judging by his raised eyebrow, a gesture he had been practicing since he saw Killian do it. She loved that Henry was supportive of their relationship. He was actually more like a cheerleader, practically pushing her out the door every time Killian came to pick her up for a night out. Killian was great with him on nights they decided to stay in. They’d play on the xbox and Emma would laugh uproariously when they’d play racing games which always came with trash talk. She was pretty sure she was already in love with him. Killian had no idea that they would have the house to themselves tonight. She couldn’t help teasing him this morning by wearing skimpier sleepwear then she normally would. Not to mention she had pretended to be looking for the pie tin much longer than was necessary. She wanted him so wound up that by the time the dam broke, he was ravenous for her.

As she dressed she could hear her boys from the living room excitedly talking about the floats in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. In the five years Killian had been living in the states he never observed Thanksgiving so he had never bothered to watch the annual celebration. Emma thought about how lonely he must have been since his brother died. Over the last three weeks she had learned that his first home in the states had been in Boston. He liked it well enough and had kept himself busy with volunteer work and sailing, it just hadn’t felt like home. After bouncing around the New England coast he finally found what he was looking for; an old, dusty bookstore and a new friend. He often said that moving to Storybrooke was the best decision he had ever made. She had to agree with him on that.

Emma found the blouse she purposely picked out for dinner. It was blue silk that looked appropriate when standing or sitting upright, but if she bent over, her black lace bra and cleavage were fully exposed to any set of eyes on her. She smiled devilishly into the mirror. She paired the blouse with a knee length black skirt and tights.

She found Killian and Henry sitting on their knees in front of the t.v. pointing out their favorite balloons and floats. She beamed at the site.

“Did I miss anything good?” she asked as their heads whipped around, both with wide smiles.

“Swan, they had a pirate ship!” “Mom, they had a pirate ship!” they both shouted unanimously. Emma chuckled at their shared enthusiasm.

__________

Killian leapt to his feet to his feet to embrace his beautiful girlfriend. She giggled into his neck, sending pleasant vibrations through him. He couldn’t wait to tell her how much he adored her, desired her, loved her.

“Alright, after Santa’s float, we’ll head to David and Mary Margaret’s house,” she announced. Killian pulled her to the couch where they cuddled and watched the rest of the parade.

*

David placed the big, juicy bird at the head of the table. It looked absolutely delicious. Killian had never celebrated such a holiday.

“Gather around the table everyone!” Dave called from the formal dining room. Then he directed Killian to stand beside him. “Seeing as this is Killian’s first Thanksgiving, I think it’s only appropriate that he have the great honor of carving the turkey.”

Killian’s elation suddenly turned to panic. “Mate, I’ve never carved a turkey before, I’ve no idea how.”

David reassuringly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s a skill that comes naturally to all the men in this family.” Dave winked at him and his heart swelled at being considered a member of the family.

“And women,” Mary Margaret asserted.

“And women, of course, we don’t discriminate on holidays,” Dave placated. He then handed Killian a large, serrated knife and carving fork. “The knife will cut through the bird like butter. The only tricky part is separating the legs. You’ll have to get your hands dirty for that part.”

Killian stuck the fork into the breast of the turkey and began slicing, finding that Dave was right, he was a natural.

After all the white and dark meat had been placed onto a separate serving dish Killian set down the fork and grasped the meaty leg, holding firmly while working through the tough joint. He successfully cut through and held it up proudly to show Emma who was seated a few chairs down from him. She beamed at him as he started on the second. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Mary Margaret had placed the mashed potatoes directly in front of the turkey. The second joint was a little tougher to get through so he lowered his hand a bit more to hold it in place. Just then, Emma stood from her seat and bent over to reach for the potatoes. He watched as she dipped her finger in the buttery side dish and licked it off salaciously, moaning in satisfaction. The dip in the collar of her blouse revealed her lace covered breasts and Killian had to suppress a moan of his own. Emma sucked her finger into her mouth and that’s when he felt the sharp pain between his thumb and forefinger. He let out a yelp that made Emma jump.

__________

Emma was horrified that she was the reason she had to wrap a cloth napkin around Killian’s hand and rush him to the bathroom to give him first aid. She knew how sharp carving knives were and she knew he had his hand in the path of said knife. She had let her lust cloud her judgement and now they may have to postpone Thanksgiving dinner to drive Killian to urgent care. She was in the middle of an internal panic attack when Killian placed his good hand on her cheek and instantly calmed her.

“Swan, it’s alright, love. It’s not as bad as you think.” He pulled the napkin away and she could see that, although he was still bleeding, the cut was not deep enough to need stitches. Being a mother of a rambunctious ten year old boy had taught her to recognize when stitches were needed.

“I’m so sorry, Killian. This is all my fault,” she admitted while she searched for the first aid kit. “I shouldn’t have distracted you like that. I don’t know what got into me?” Killian’s smirk at her words told her she had unintentionally given him material for an innuendo laden quip, but she put a stop to that by placing her fingers on his lips as they started to move. “I know what you were going to say, Jones, and I’ll have none of it. We have to focus on getting you patched up,” she asserted with a barely contained smile.

“Aye, love, patch away,” he said, his eyes dancing with amusement.

She was almost finished wrapping his hand when the irony of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn’t help the giggles that escaped her, much to Killian’s amusement.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, chuckling at her.

“Do you realize how ironic it is that three weeks ago, you were wrapping my hand for the same exact reason that I am wrapping yours now?” Her giggles had evolved into full on laugher.

“I had no idea you cut yourself because you were distracted by my sexy physique.”

After the laughter died down, Emma finished with his hand, making sure the self adhesive bandage was secure.

“It was your eyes.” Killian arched his eyebrow in curiosity. “I was distracted by your eyes. They were so mesmerizing, I didn’t want to take my eyes off them.” She looked into those very same eyes now, all amusement gone from them, replaced by something like determination.

“I love you, Emma,” he said as he reached up and brushed his thumb across her cheek. She sat down beside him on the edge of the tub and pulled him in for a kiss, tears threatening to fall. The kiss was sweet and unrushed and then she suddenly became aware of where they were and this time she giggled against his mouth, unable to contain it. Killian broke the kiss, letting his face fall to the crook of her neck on a groan.

“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, love.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but you just told me you loved me for the first time in a bathroom and I couldn’t help myself.” He lifted his head at her explanation, but seemed to relax when he saw the wide grin across her face. “And that’s okay because I love you too.” Unlike their previous kiss, Killian slammed his lips into Emma’s so furiously she would have toppled into the tub if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her. The lust that she had felt all day suddenly rushed through her once again and all she could think about was how much she wanted Killian to take her right now against the bathroom door. How was she going to survive dinner and digesting and desert? Maybe if they pretended Killian needed stitches they could sneak back to her place and have a quickie, but she knew a quickie wouldn’t be enough to stave her desire for this man. No, she needed to calm her libido and wait for tonight. She pulled away from his puffy red lips reluctantly. “Easy, Tiger, our hosts and kid are down the hall.” The change in his demeanor when she said “our” and “kid” in the same sentence made her heart melt. He looked hopeful and nervous like he feared she was going to take it back. She cupped his face reassuringly, gazes locked. “Hey, you heard what David said, you’re a part of this family.” A tear slipped down his cheek, wetting her hand.

“I love you so much, Emma. And I love Henry, as if he were my own flesh and blood.”

“Good.”

__________

By the time Killian and Emma exited the bathroom, Elsa, her sister Anna and her fiance Kristoff had arrived for dinner. Killian was so relieved to discover that none of his blood had tainted the turkey.

“I’d like to make a toast,” David announced. Everyone ceased their chatter and gave him their full attention. “First of all, I’d like to say that I am thankful for my family. It doesn’t matter if we share DNA,” he raised his glass to Leo, Leo raising his cider in return with a huge grin plastered on his face, “or if we’re bonded through marriage,” raising his glass to his wife, “or adoption,” tipping his glass toward Emma and Henry, “or friendship, both old,” he looked to Elsa, Anna and Kristoff, “and new.” David gave Killian a significant nod and Killian raised his glass.

“To family,” Killian choked out.

“To family,” everyone chimed in raising their glasses in unison.

Emma rested her forehead against Killian’s, and he knew in that instant that he wanted to marry her. If he was being honest he was pretty sure she was the one by the end of their first date.

*

Dinner had been a complete success. They continued to much on the delicious dishes that everyone had provided throughout the day while David and Kristoff explained American football to him.

“But why is it called football if you can use your hands?” he asked.

“Uh…er...because,” David stuttered. Kristoff just opened and closed his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. “They do use their feet… occasionally.”

Killian barked out a laugh and Dave and Kristoff joined in. Emma poked her head in to see what the commotion was all about.

__________

It was wonderful to see the boys bonding over the American tradition. She flashed a smile to her boyfriend which he eagerly returned before heading to the kitchen with the girls.

“So he really has no idea about tonight?” Mary Margaret inquired.

“What’s happening tonight?” Anna asked excitedly. Elsa also gave her a curious look, raising one eyebrow and folding her arms. Emma, on her part, gaped at them, opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

“Thanks a lot, Mary Margaret.” The brunette apologetically shrugged, but Emma knew there would be no deflecting. The sisters would never let that slide. “Henry is staying here tonight.” She didn’t need to elaborate after Anna squealed at the news. “And no, he doesn’t have a clue.”

“I bet you can’t wait to get out of here,” Elsa added with a huge grin.

“Yes and no. I’m dying to try Killian’s apple pie.”

“I bet he’s dying to try yours too,” Anna quipped and Emma was genuinely shocked that something that dirty could come from the lips of the epitome of innocence. Mary Margaret and Elsa burst into laughter. At that moment Killian entered the kitchen and she knew she was bright red.

“Hello, love,” he greeted with a kiss to her cheek. “It sounds like you’re having fun in here.”

“Oh, it’s a riot,” she replied sarcastically.

“Well, I just wanted a bit more of Elsa’s delicious dressing. Who knew crusty bread could taste so good.” Emma smiled at his enthusiasm. He was getting to try a lot of firsts today. First Thanksgiving, first turkey carving, first taste of dressing, and of course, first taste of her. “Do people really stuff it up the turkey’s…”

“Yep.” He made a face at that and proceeded to dish up a healthy second portion.

“Don’t fill up too much on that, Killian. There’s still a lot more to come,” Elsa said on a giggle. Killian looked at her, then to Emma then back to the giggling girls, his brows scrunched in suspicion, but shrugged it off and returned to the living room.

“Elsa!” Emma chastised.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

__________

Emma sat beside him as desert was being dished out. Everyone made sounds of appreciation as they tasted his pie, but his eyes and ears were trained solely on her as she moaned obscenely.

“Oh, god, Killian, that is amazing.”

Images of Emma crying that out as she writhed under his mouth or rode his cock flooded his mind. It was so sexy that he briefly entertained the idea of dragging her back to that bathroom and having his wicked way with her. Shaking his head to clear the lusty fog, he took a bite of his own slice.

He loathed the moment the night came to an end and he would have to say goodbye to Emma and Henry and return to his loney home above the bookstore. Unfortunately, that time was drawing nearer as everyone cleared their plates.

Elsa, Anna and Kristoff bid farewell about an hour later, giving hugs and the girls once again sharing a laugh over some secret. For some reason, Kristoff and Dave didn’t look the least bit confused, although Dave did look a little apprehensive. Emma strode up to him after waving her friends off.

“I think it’s about time we head out as well, don’t you think?”

“Aye, love,” he sighed.

“Hey kid,” she called to Henry as Killian helped her shrug into her jacket. “Be good for your aunt and uncle.”

Killian whipped his head between Emma, Henry and the smiling couple opening the door for them then back to Emma who was smirking fiercely at him. Realization set in as Henry promised to be good and ran off with Leo calling out a goodbye to both of them.

“Have a good night!” Mary Margaret called as the two of them practically sprinted out the door after offering their gratitude. “You’re welcome!”

Killian was buzzing with anticipation during the short drive back to Emma’s.

_________

“Why didn’t you say anything, love?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said with a giggle.

“So that’s what you ladies were laughing about when I walked into the kitchen.”

“Yeah, Anna made this really dirty joke, it’s not important,” she assured with a blush.

“Oh, no Swan, I think it is very important that I be let in on this joke that apparently involves me.” Her breath hitched as he leaned over and nipped at her neck and ear. She felt overheated even in the cold car desire coiled in her belly causing her to rub her thighs together for some relief.

“She said,” Emma barely breathed out, “that you can’t wait to taste… my apple pie.” Emma nearly lost control of the car when he growled in response.

“I intend to taste every inch of your delectable body, Swan.”

Her panties were soaked by the time she pulled into her driveway. Killian was out the door and rounding the car to open hers before she even engaged the parking brake. As soon as she freed herself from the seatbelt he pulled her out of her seat and into the hard planes of his body. He captured her lips in a breath stealing kiss, desperate to begin tasting her. Their tongues tangled as their hands explored each other. He pressed her into the car and she could feel just how much he wanted her. She whimpered when he broke contact, but found herself being lead at breakneck speed to her front door. She fumbled with the keys as Killian pressed himself to her back, nuzzling and licking the spot right behind her ear that drove her crazy. Finally the door flew open and they stumbled through, Killian kicking it closed behind him. He pulled her back into his arms, assaulting her mouth, face and neck with his lips and tongue.

“This needs to come off, darling,” he muttered against her pulse point while fumbling with with the buttons of her blouse.

“Just rip it off,” she demanded. “I know how to sew.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Buttons flew as he tore them from the silky material. The blouse fell to the floor of her entryway as they frantically made their way through the house with clothes flying. She divested him of his sweater in the living room, her skirt falling to the floor at the base of the stairs. The sound of heavy breathing and occasional laughter of their shared impatience filled the house. They nearly tripped several times as they stumbled up the stairs, refusing to separate.

Emma moaned at the sensation of having Killian’s hands on her bare stomach and legs. She raked her hands through his exposed chest hair, loving the tickle of the course hairs. She still needed to rid him of his pesky jeans. How they managed to reach the top of the stairs without injury was beyond her. She popped the button on his pants and ripped them down his legs, not needing to ask him to step out. Suddenly she felt herself being swept off her feet, Killian carrying her bridal style to her bedroom. She smiled at his determined face, giggling as he tossed her on the bed.

__________

Killian gazed at his adorable and sexy girlfriend. He still had a hard time believing that this was his life. That Emma loved him, that her family cared for him, that Henry liked spending time with him. He had resigned himself to a life of loneliness after Liam’s death until Dave approached him outside the store asking if he needed help hanging the refurbished sign baring the shops name. He’ll be eternally indebted to his friends for bringing Emma into his life.

“Killian?” Her concerned voice brought him out of his reverie.

“Sorry, love, I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

She raised an eyebrow and licked her lips salaciously. “I know of another way you could get lucky.”

Killian groweld and threw himself onto her, careful not cause her any harm. Oh, he was going to get lucky several times before the night was over. She pulled him to her lips, moaning as she rolled her her hips into his throbbing cock.

“I need you,” she pleaded, biting his lower lip.

“There is something I have to do first.”

“You don’t need a condom. I’m clean and covered and I trust you,” she reasoned. Killian looked lovingly at the angel beneath him.

“While that is incredibly good to hear, that is not what I was talking about, my love” he said giving her what he hoped was a sexy smirk. She looked adorably confused as he proceeded to kiss down her delectable neck. “I simply,” he kissed the swell of her breasts, “cannot wait,” another kiss above her navel, “to taste,” a third kiss to the inside of her thigh, earning him a moan, “your apple pie,” a final kiss to her clothed center. He hooked his fingers in the band of her black lace panties and dragged them down her slender legs, reveling in the sound of her ragged breaths. He nudged her knees, encouraging her to open for him and she complied, giving him a delicious view of her glistening folds. “Already so wet for me, darling.”

“Oh, god,” she stuttered out.

“Indeed,” he said huskily before diving in. Her scent alone had him salivating, but the taste of her sweet arousal almost had him coming. He traced a circle around her clit before taking it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. He focused his efforts on finding her sensitive nub and used the tip of his tongue to work her up to a writhing mess.

“Yes, Killian, yes… so good!” she screamed as she grabbed ahold of his hair. He removed his right hand from her thigh to bring his fingers to her slick entrance, coating the tips in her essence before pushing two inside of her.

__________

Emma gasped at the welcome intrusion of his fingers. His tongue was so fucking talented and the dual sensations of being licked and fucked had her seeing stars. No man had ever put in enough effort to make her come this way, but she was well on her way. She tugged on his hair which elicited a groan from him and the vibrations had her quivering.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so close, please don’t stop!” Her words gave him reason to double his efforts, plunging his fingers into her so fast that she momentarily forgot how to breath. With the slightest brush of his teeth she was there, calling out his name in ecstasy as ripples of pleasure spread through her entire body. He brought her down gently, pulling his fingers from her and lapping up any extra juices.

“The best damn pie I have ever eaten,” he declared as he climbed up her heaving body.

“You bet your ass, it is and it wants you inside of it right now.” He dropped his head to her still covered breasts.

“Now this simply won't do,” he said against the valley between them, biting at the fabric.

“Then I guess we better do something it, shouldn’t we? Roll over.” He cocked his eyebrow and complied as she rolled with him to sit in his lap. She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, slowly pulling the straps down one at a time, unable to resist teasing him. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip once she had thrown the offending material across the room. “I know you want to taste them too,” she started in her most seductive voice, “but you don’t get to until you’ve made me come again.”

“Challenge accepted, love. Don’t you think we ought to do something about these?” he asked nodding down his body to his boxers.

“Leave that to me,” she said as she slithered down his body, removing the last barrier between them. “Fuck,” she breathed at the sight of his thick length. She licked her lips and decided that her orgasm could wait a while longer. She had to taste his weeping cock. She leaned down and licked a stripe along the engorged vein ripping a guttural groan from his throat. Using her right hand to hold him up, she took him into her mouth, moaning at the taste of him.

“Bloody fuck!” he cried, gathering her hair in his fist. She hallowed her cheeks and slid her mouth up to the tip, using her tongue to lathe at the his most sensitive spot before taking him in again.

__________

Watching his dick disappear into Emma’s magical mouth over and over again as she worked him up, loving the feel of her tongue lapping at the underside of his tip, he was teetering on the edge of bliss much more quickly than he wanted to. He didn’t want her to stop. He wanted to shoot his seed down her throat, but the desire to make love to her was much stronger. He wanted to take her and there would be plenty of time for foreplay in their future because he intended to always be by her side. And he also really wanted to taste her perfect, pink nipples.

“Emma,” he rasped. She looked up at him, his cock still between her luscious lips, “let me make love to you, darling.” She released him with a wet pop and licked her lips. He gently flipped them over, settling in the cradle of her thighs.

“Killian?” She gazed at him with pure love, the picture of innocence. “After you make love to me and we’ve had a moment to recover, will you fuck me senseless?” It was his turn to gasp in surprise.

“My love, when I’m finished with you tonight it will be a fucking miracle if you can walk tomorrow,” he ground out. She spread her legs even wider to give him better access and guided his tip to her entrance. He sank easily into her warm, wet depths, groaning as her tight walls gripped him. He allowed her a moment to adjust to his girth, and to give him time to wrangle in his primal instinct to take her hard and fast. He was saving that for next time.

“Make love to me, Killian,” she urged. He pulled out almost all the way then plunged back in, a little quicker but still in control. “Oh, my god, you feel amazing.”

“The feeling is mutual, love.” He set a languid pace, making sure to slide in to the hilt with every thrust. He reached for her hands, entwining their fingers and gazed into her dark green, love and lust filled eyes. He picked up his pace as her moans and whimpers increased in volume.

“I love you, god, I love you so much,” she cried out. By now his hips were snapping into hers, making her gorgeous breasts bounce up towards her flushed neck.

“I love you too, Emma, more than anything in this world.” He could feel her walls begin to flutter, she was close, but not close enough. He was going to explode any second now so he let his control slip a bit more with a quicker pace and harder thrusts. He snaked his hand to where they were joined and flicked her clit with desperate speed and within seconds she cried out as her tight quim clenched around him, triggering his own explosive orgasm. He let his head fall into the crook of Emma’s neck, whispering her name on a prayer.

__________

Emma cuddled up to the man she loved as they both came down from their high. She placed her hand on his chest and drew nonsensical patterns into his damp chest hair. A thought occurred to her in the blissful aftermath of their lovemaking, but she was nervous to voice it.

“I can hear your mind reeling,” Killian said, kissing the top of her head. “Spit it out, Swan, you know you can tell me anything.” She knew it was useless to deny her inner thoughts to him, he could read her like an open book.

“I was just thinking… that your bed is really small and… well the whole apartment is really small and…”

“And…?” he inquired.

“And perhaps it wouldn’t be a terrible idea if you…” she met his hopeful gaze as she looked up and all pensivity melted away, “moved in with me, with us, that is if Henry is okay with it, which I’m sure he will be, he absolutely adores…” he cut her off with a life altering kiss and it really was because they were taking a huge leap in their still young relationship.

“I would love nothing more than to live with you and your boy… our boy,” he said on a choked sob, resting his forehead against hers. He captured her lips once more, this time morphing into a passionate, hot, wet kiss.

“I think now is as good as any to see how good you are at fucking, Mr. Jones,” she breathed out huskily, eyeing his erection. He eyed her like a predator would eye its prey.

“Get on your knees, love.” She eagerly flew to her hands and knees, presenting herself like a mate in heat. He rose to his knees as well, placing his hands on her hips and nudging his length against the crease of her ass. She dropped to her elbows and arched her back ready for the stretch she knew was coming. He positioned himself at her entrance and thrust in with no preamble. Hard and fast, just as she had craved. He didn’t wait as long this time for her to adjust before he was slamming into her at a punishing pace. “Gods above, Emma, your tight sheath just might be the end of me.”

“That would be, ah, a shame, oh god!” He was hitting her g-spot with every hard, desperate thrust. “I do believe I’m a… a… a… addicted to you, Killian… Jones.” He was fucking her so hard that speaking in fully formed sentences had become nearly impossible. “Yes, fucking hell, YES!” she screamed as he pulled her upright, her back against his chest, him still fucking her with abandon. She knew she was a goner when his finger found her clit and rubbed furiously in fast, tight circles. She came with a silent scream, all oxygen needed to be reserved for her barely functioning brain. He let her fall back to the bed as he continued to ravage her, his thrusts becoming erratic. By now she was practically laying on her stomach, her boneless body unable to hold itself up, and it felt amazing.

“One more, Emma. Come one more time for me, love,” he begged. She could feel her orgasm coming as he placed his hands on either side of her head and pummeled into her, his front slapping against her ass. Just the sound alone was enough to tear an earth shattering orgasm from her. She was far from quiet this time.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fucking, FUCK!” he roared into her shoulder as he shot his hot seed into her womb. His chest heaved against her back as they both attempted to calm their breathing. He eventually managed to flop to her side.

“You’re a bloody marvel, Emma Swan,” he managed to breath out. She scooted herself into his willing arms.

“I could say the same thing about you, Killian Jones.”

She fell into a restful sleep in his arms, dreaming of their future. A wedding, a baby, a bigger house, Killian officially adopting Henry all flitted through her mind and when she woke still encased in his loving embrace she smiled at the fact that their future was now.

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Ripples in Time (Ch. 3 of 3)

Set in my "Chances Are" continuity. (In which Leonard Snart got stuck in 1958 with Sara, Ray, and Kendra.) Rip's already lectured Sara and Leonard about how their actions in 1958 may have changed many things. Turns out, at least one of those things strikes very close to home. Set between chapters 16 and 17 of "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight."

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

It’s late by the time they get back to the hotel, sneaking in like teenagers, but Sara’s still so full of adrenaline that she makes quite good on the promise of that kiss. Later, Leonard somewhat groggily asks for the number of the truck that hit him—though he does it with a pleased smirk on his face—before falling quite soundly asleep, and Sara follows soon afterward, still entwined with him on the far-bigger-than-Waverider-quarters king bed.

She sleeps soundly herself, waking by the time she’d planned to and rising quietly. Leonard only utters a sleepy murmur, but he opens his eyes a little by the time she returns, showered and dressed.

“Going somewhere?” he mutters, reaching for her. Sara evades him easily, but then leans back over to kiss him.

“I told you,” she reminds him. “I’m going to see Dig and Lyla and baby Sara, and then to lunch with Thea.”

Leonard blinks, but then she sees memory rise in his eyes again. “Right.” He pushes himself up on an elbow. Sara hums appreciatively as the sheet falls aside a bit, giving her a very nice view. “You want me to come with you?”

She’d already told him it was fine, but she gives it due thought again anyway. Something about the idea of seeing Len meet her small namesake is very appealing. But…

Leonard nods as he sees her pause. “Go see the kid without having to explain me,” he says quietly, stretching back out—and smirking as he sees Sara’s eyes trail slowly down his torso, following the line of dark (OK, maybe a little graying) hair under the sheet that’s still slung over his hips. “I’ll see you later.”

“Mmmm.”

“Sara. Aren’t they waiting for you?”

“They’re not going anywhere.” Her fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and pull away that sheet.

“Neither am I.”

When Sara finally does leave, Leonard’s not ashamed to admit he goes back to sleep, enjoying the opportunity in a way he rarely can. When he finally rises, he gets ready in a more leisurely fashion, then tries to figure out what to do next.

It’s obvious, probably. It doesn’t take long before he decides to see if he can saunter into the Arrowcave like he does into STAR Labs. Hopefully without getting an arrow through the brain.

Well. He’s never been one to make the wisest decisions. And the challenge is intriguing.

Presumably, Queen & Co. won’t want to piss off Sara by killing him. So there’s that.

Memory gets him to the site. Skill gets him in. The security system is good, very good, but it’s not Leonard Snart good. He doesn’t even trip it. He just…convinces it.

So, he’s very, very smug when he saunters into the Arrowcave proper, smirk on his face, hands behind his back, trying not to look like a threat but completely willing to look like an asshole.

It lasts as long as it takes him to get far enough for Felicity Smoak (who’s sitting at her desk and studying her computer) to glance up and see him.

“Oh,” she says in a bored tone, “it’s you.” Then, to his surprise, she giggles. “The man of the hour.”

Well, this isn’t what he expected. Or wanted. Leonard frowns at her, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Come again?”

Felicity waves a hand at another desk. “Read ‘er and weep, lover boy.”

Leonard eyes her a moment, then sidesteps over to that desk. There’s a newspaper there, one of the more tabloid-ish local ones, and he glances down at it.

His jaw drops. Felicity snickers again.

There’s a photo there. It’s under the fold, as the top is face down, but it’s still clear and in full color. And it’s…him. And Sara. Kissing. There on the rooftop. A nearly full moon in the background, illuminating them in a scene like something from a movie.

The photographer had somehow managed to miss the archer in green who was on the rooftop with them. Leonard stares at it a moment, then skims the caption. Oh. Peachy. They’ve clearly identified him as Central City’s Captain Cold (“hasn’t been seen for six months since his escape from Iron Heights”) and they’re baffled by Sara (“another Star City Canary?…successor?...who?...why?”). To his slight amusement, the paper’s clearly linked them to the police raid on the drug operation, though not the Arrow, and they’re both being taken as well-intentioned, if vigilante-inclined, heroic types.

It’s a good pic, actually. Even if he never saw it coming. Leonard studies it a moment longer, imagining what’s going to happen if Lisa sees it before he can explain, then shakes his head.

“Way to destroy my image.” he sighs, tossing the paper aside.

Felicity is peering around her screen, looking like she’s holding back laughter. “You did it to yourself,” she points out.

“That’s who I was talking to.” Then something else occurs to him, something involving Felicity and how he first “met” her and who her friends are—and how she’s watching him with such gless. Leonard stops in his tracks. “Wait. Tell me you didn’t send that to…”

Too late. He closes his eyes in resignation as a golden-red blur darts into the room, resolving into a red-suited man who’s not even bothering to wear a mask, but who is wearing an immense grin.

“…Barry Allen,” Leonard finishes. “Gee. Thanks, Smoak.”

Felicity stands, eyes huge. “Wait. You know…”

“Yes, I know his name,” Leonard drawls in exasperation before folding his arms and leveling a stare at the other man. “Barry.”

“Snart!” the younger man says happily. He looks like he’s going to step forward and try for a hug, but Leonard steps deliberately backward when he sees it coming, and Barry stops. “I knew you guys were back for a couple days, but Dr. Stein and Jax and Mick wouldn’t say where you were. You and Sara Lance? Really?”

Leonard keeps his gaze chilly. “That tone of surprise is rather insulting, Allen.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Barry looks a little rattled, which is satisfying, but that big grin is still there. Once, Leonard would have assumed it was mocking him, but he knows better now, with 1958 and Gabriel Drive behind him. Barry Allen is idealistic and brave and, OK, kinda cute. He’s also kind, and Leonard knows it now for the odd strength it is instead of a weakness.

If he really thinks Leonard is happy with Sara Lance, that grin is 100 percent genuine.

“It’s just…” Barry actually scuffs a toe on the ground. It’s kind of adorable. Leonard scowls. “…I never even thought it was likely that you two would meet, let alone…ah…”

“Hook up?” Felicity asks gleefully from her desk, apparently deciding to try to stir the pot a little more for her own entertainment. Leonard ignores her, although Barry flushes a little.

“Yeah,” he mutters, though he keeps that damned grin. “After all that protesting about not being a hero…”

“I’m not…” Leonard gives up. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing! Good for you, Snart. I mean…is it serious? Um.” Barry darts a glance at Felicity while Leonard decides he’d rather sink into the ground and vanish than have Barry Allen fishing for clues about his intentions toward Sara. “Does Oliver know…?”

“Does Oliver know what?” The man himself stalks into the room and Leonard closes his eyes in a “give me strength” gesture. There’s a faint sound from the far wall and an elevator opens, letting Laurel out. It’s a measure, Leonard figures, of how weird this whole situation is that he’s relieved to see the lawyer. He tosses a glance her way as she wheels toward them, annoyed that it probably comes out a little pleading, and is even more annoyed when Barry…well, giggles is probably the best word…on his other side.

But Queen takes one look at the paper and snorts, a sound that Leonard thinks might actually contain a little amusement. “Oh, I did,” the archer says. “Frankly, I think everyone in the city has. And beyond.” He gives Leonard a cool look, but there is indeed a hint of humor in his gaze. “I should have warned you. The would-be paparazzi have taken to camping out in places with good views of likely rooftops. Sorry about that.”

He’s not sorry at all. Leonard regards him steadily, then decides not to take the bait. “Well,” he drawls, looking down at the photo. “It’s a good pic. Maybe they’ll give us a copy of the file in exchange for an autographed copy or something.”

Queen loses the smile, but Laurel chuckles. She starts to say something, but they’re interrupted by the footsteps, and Sara’s voice lifting in greeting.

“Hey,” she calls as she enters the room, “look who I found outside!”

Because this day couldn’t much any weirder or more awkward. Still, Leonard finds his lips lifting in a smile as he watches Mick sauntering in at Sara’s side, eyeing the gathered heroes with a look of wary uncertainty. He obviously brightens with relief, too, as he sees Leonard, though he quickly hides it behind habitual surliness and the expression that says clearly that he’s already decided to give no fucks about this gang of heroes before they can decide not to give any fucks about him.

“Allen,” he barks at Barry. “What the hell?”

Barry looks sheepish. “Well, I wasn’t going to bring you in here without asking,” he retorts, then looks at the nonplussed-looking Queen. “Uh. Hi, Oliver…”

Felicity raises a hand. “Uh. Did you just tell the arsonist Oliver’s name?”

“Already knew it, Ponytail.”

Eyes go to Leonard, who promptly jerks his thumb at Sara, perfectly willing to pass the buck. She rolls her eyes.

“They’re my teammates,” she says with exasperation, folding her arms, “no matter what you think of their prior career paths.” She glances at Mick. “You’re not going to burn down the Arrowcave, right, Mick?”

“Pro’bly not.”

“See?”

Queen finds his voice. “Sara…”

Sara can take care of herself. Leonard moves with some alacrity toward Mick. “You let Allen flash you over here? Really?”

His friend shrugs. “I was bored. And Allen wigged out over that pic…though not as much as Ramon did.” He smirks. “You OK? Blondie’s dad didn’t try to murder you?”

“Not yet, anyway.” Leonard’s trying to decide whether to surreptitiously get Mick out of there or stay and watch the potential chaos, when his thoughts are interrupted by a quiet, amused voice.

“Mr. Rory, I presume?”

He glances over and sees Laurel sitting there watching them, a smile hovering around her mouth. He offers her a wry smile, glancing at Mick, who blinks at Sara’s sister as she sits there and considers him.

“Yeah,” he finally manages. “Hi.”

Laurel inclines her head to him, extending her hand. Mick, looking slightly flummoxed, takes it, but keeps holding it as if he’s not sure what to do with it. Leonard, not sure whether to smirk or wince, clears his throat, but Laurel doesn’t seem to mind, considering Mick thoughtfully.

“I understand that you’ve known Mr. Snart here a long time,” she tells him. “In fact, I gather you’re the next best thing to brothers.”

Mick blinks. Leonard blinks. But neither of them bothers to deny it.

“Uh,” Mick says finally. “Yeah. And yer Sara’s sister.”

Leonard winces again. Laurel just smiles.

“I am,” she acknowledges. “And I have so many embarrassing stories about her. And I’m willing to share them.”

Mick brightens. Belatedly, he gives her hand a shake, letting go, but Leonard sees Laurel tighten her fingers around his, briefly, first, almost a gesture of encouragement. Then she starts asking him about Leonard, about how they met, and Lisa, and Leonard decides that even after everything, Mick won’t purposely try to sabotage Laurel’s opinion of him.

He backs slowly off even as Sara comes up beside him, bumping his shoulder with hers and chuckling evilly as she sees Laurel talking to Mick.

“She’s not Mick’s type,” he says, even though he’ll admit some uncertainty. “Too classy.”

“I think you might be wrong about that,” Sara murmurs without saying exactly what he’s wrong about, but continues without clarifying. “Well. Even if nothing like that does happen, I think they might be something even rarer and more special.”

She smiles at his inquiring look, answering the unspoken question. “Friends. And isn’t that unexpected?”

“Huh.” Leonard considers them. Mick can claim all he wants that he doesn’t have friends, but that’s changed, on the Waverider…and he’s certainly behaving himself for the moment.

“Laurel’s good with people,” Sara says softly. “Better than I am. And…she’s changed. Once, I could see her balking at…”

“Befriending a criminal and arsonist?”

“Well, yeah. Now…” Sara smiles a little more, watching as Mick answers some question or another, getting a smile from Laurel. “We’ve all changed.”

“True, that.”

Somehow, with Barry’s visit and the entry of a few of the other members of Team Arrow, the gathering at the Arrowcave’s developed an oddly congenial atmosphere. Barry’s dispatched to get Iris at Felicity’s insistence, and the Diggle family turns up with wings and pizza at one point. Leonard’s getting used to getting various sorts of once-overs as new players arrive, and he thinks he’s handing them with equanimity.

When the Diggles arrive, Sara reaches for the tiny, curly-haired girl with a murmur of pleasure, and Leonard can’t help but watch as small Sara Diggle reaches for her in return. He exchanges a glance with the namesake’s father—one that on John Diggle’s part says clearly “don’t mess with us—or her--and we won’t mess with you”—and nods in acknowledgement.

The man Felicity calls “Curtis” gives him another sort of once-over, and the men exchange a nod with its own sort of recognition. He’s cute, in the sorta-geeky-yet-sorta-badass way Leonard has a certain predilection for in guys, and it’s kind of nice to see the same sort of appreciation there, even if neither one of them will act on it.

Then Thea Queen arrives and, having apparently been filled in by Sara, checks him out in the sort of semi-lascivious slow scan that actually draws a smirk from Leonard’s face. She winks at him when she’s done, and he winks back, and just like that, they seem to be OK.

Someone, at some point, gets beer and other beverages. Leonard notes in bemusement that a few more familiar faces have arrived…the Steins and Jax, Cisco and Snow. Sara’s in her glory, talking to old friends and new, and after a while, Leonard merely gets a drink, parks his back against a wall and watches her, smiling at her happiness.

“Snart.”

“Queen.” Leonard takes a drink of his beer, not taking his eyes off Sara. Oliver Queen leans next to him, apparently watching the same thing. After a few moments, though, Leonard can feel the gaze on him.

“I do not...dislike you as much as I would have thought.”

As overtures go, it’s certainly not the friendliest, but it’s more sincere for all that, and Leonard turns a little, eyeing the vigilante. “Same,” he drawls. Then he tilts his head. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

(He thinks he deserves a medal for not layering innuendo in those last words. A freakin’ medal.)

Queen doesn’t seem aware of that, but he does acknowledge the words with a return tip of his head—and a frown that makes Leonard frown in return.

After a moment, Queen speaks again. “I want Sara to be happy. She’s been through a lot and…” He hesitates. “A lot of it was my fault. In one way or another.”

Leonard leaves that alone. “You don’t think she’s happy,” he says, watching Sara and the smile on her face, making it both a question and not. He feels Queen turn his head to watch her too, and the silence between them stretches.

“No,” the other man finally says, with a sigh. “I know she is. I can see it. But…” He looks back at Leonard, who’s rather surprised to see sympathy in his eyes. “Snart. For how long?”

Leonard narrows his eyes. “Explain.”

Queen looks back at Sara, who’s still holding a contented-looking Sara Diggle and talking to the woman named Lyla. “What are you going to do?” he asks. “Come back from killing Savage and go back to being a crook?” His gaze flicks back to Leonard. “Shift paths and be a hero?” He holds up a hand as the other man starts to retort. “I know it worked out all right yesterday. But…people know who you were. Do you really think they’ll just let you change?”

Leonard wants to get angry about the words, but…there’s a strong feeling of inside knowledge there, and even pain, in Queen’s voice. And he’s wondered about such things himself; it’s why he’d grabbed the opportunity to reinvent himself with both hands, back in 1958. But can he do it in 2016?

He hesitates, and Queen sees it. The other man nods curtly.

“If it doesn’t work out, whatever your new plan is, what happens?” he says. “Do you just leave? Sara…she’s had too many people leave. But do you really feel like there’s a future for you two?”

Leonard stares at him. He still wants to be angry. Hell, he wants to be enraged. He wants to deny what Queen’s saying. But…

He’s said it himself. Queen’s right. Many people aren’t very willing to let juvenile delinquents…or their adult versions…be anything else once they’ve labeled them so.

Leonard glances away. He hears the other man sigh.

“I don’t…” Queen stops. Then he sighs again. “Just…think about it,” he says, shaking his head. He turns and walks away, back toward Felicity.

Leonard watches him go. Then he looks back at Sara, who’s set little Sara down and is smiling at the small girl as she toddles across the floor. And then he turns away, heading for the stairwell.

He needs some fresh air…and some space to think.

“Where’s Leonard?”

Sara’s been enjoying herself quite a bit during this rather impromptu party in the Arrowcave. She’s kept an eye on Leonard and Mick as she catches up with old friends, pleased at how they seem to be relatively comfortable—definitely more comfortable than she’d feared, or even hoped. Mick had been pleased at the arrival of others he actually knew, and it seems like Stein, of all the people, has decided to be somewhat protective of him.

They’ve become family, on the Waverider. As amazing and unlikely as that might seem.

Leonard had been holding up the wall and watching everyone and everything in his usual fashion, but he’d seemed comfortable enough. But he’s not there now, and Sara realizes she can’t remember when she’d last seen him there. And when she had…

Oliver’s looking guilty. Goddamnit.

Sara starts for him purposefully, glaring, and Felicity, seeing her coming, glances at him too. Her eyes narrow—she’s even better at judging guilty Oliver Queen expressions than Sara is. Laurel, no slouch at that herself, glances over, then starts wheeling toward them.

Oliver looks alarmed. Good.

“We had…a talk,” he says abruptly, folding his arms as the three women converge on him. “But if he left, he left of his own volition.”

“Oliver Queen,” Felicity hisses. “What did you say?”

He starts sputtering, but Sara doesn’t want to hear it. She turns away, scanning the room, then starts for the stairs.

“Sara!”

She turns back, looking at Laurel. (Felicity’s already lighting into Oliver as others start to notice.)

Laurel studies her, empathy in her eyes.

“If he left,” she says, “he’s still planning to come back. That man wouldn’t leave you on Oliver Queen’s say-so.”

Sara gives her a reluctant smile. “That man,” she responds, “won’t do anything on Oliver’s say-so.”

Laurel smiles in return. “Go find him,” she instructs. “No matter what stupid thing Ollie said, this Leonard Snart loves you. He won’t have gone far.”

She’s right.

Leonard, for all his relative dislike of heights, had gone where Sara is likely to find him—up, to the Star City rooftops. She finds him there, staring out at the city, expression distant and thoughtful.

He turns his head as he hears her approach, and she sees a smile flicker across his face. Well, that’s something, at least.

“You OK?” Sara asks as she joins him, gazing out at her city as well.

Leonard makes a noncommittal noise. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Sara snorts. “What did Oliver say to you?”

“Nothing that isn’t true.” But he caves as Sara lifts an eyebrow at him. “Suggested I think about what sort of future we’d have, me and you.”

Sara resolves, again, to kick Ollie’s ass. “That…” She stops. Sighs. “I want a future with you, Leonard. What that future is…we’ll work that out together.”

Leonard gives her another flicker of a smile. “Yes. That’s a given.” He hesitates, then reaches out, taking her hand, a rare sort of gesture for him.

It’s a relief. But Sara frowns, wondering. “Then what’s wrong?”

Leonard looks down and takes a deep breath. But he’s still holding her hand, and he doesn’t drop it. “Sara,” he says slowly. “I don’t know that I’m…that I’m the marrying kind…”

Oh.

Sara takes her own deep breath. Her fingers tighten on his. “Len,” she says, just as slowly. “You and I both know that…that it’s not always just…just a man and a woman, a floofy white dress, and a big party-- and then a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids and a golden retriever.”

His eyes lift to hers. There’s so much in them, and for a moment it takes her breath away. Then she clears her throat and keeps going, the emotion in his eyes giving her the strength to continue.

“Really, I think, it just comes down to two people who…who look at each other and say… ‘I love you, and I’ll stay with you,” she says. “If you’ll have me.’”

The words come out more intense and direct than maybe she’d originally planned. But Sara knows immediately that she’s OK with that. She’s at peace in a way she never thought she’d be, actually, standing here on a rooftop in Star City, listening to the sounds of the city below, staring into the eyes of a snarky, infuriating, complicated, wonderful crook.

After a still, oddly serene moment, he tugs her just a little closer, expression gaining an edge of…something. Determination? Resolve? Sara puts her other hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat even through the layers he wears, strong and steady even through that armor.

Then he nods, almost to himself, and speaks.

“I love you,” he tells her quietly. “And I’ll stay with you. If you’ll have me.”

It’s a proposal, and they both know it. Or maybe she’d proposed first, and it’s just his half of a mutual proposal, which seems like them, to be honest. The thought makes Sara smile, even as she goes up on her toes to put them more on a level.

“Yes,” she says in return. “Yes. Of course I will.”

A return smile flickers across Leonard’s serious face, something more complicated than just happiness (though that’s part of it), deeper than just relief. He pulls her close and kisses her, then, there on the rooftop, and Sara winds her arms around his neck and kisses him back, pouring herself into it, letting some of the worries and concerns of the future drift away, because they have this.

They have this.

When they finally separate, they’re both grinning like idiots, even Leonard, for whom that particularly foolish smile seems quite incongruous. After a moment, he shakes his head and settles his features into something more Snartlike, sardonic amusement mixed with his habitual confidence, and holds out a hand. Sara takes it again, then tugs gently, starting to lead him back to the others, the friends and family who might be worried about them.

Leonard goes willingly, especially since she heads for the fire escape and not just the edge of the roof. Sara hears him chuckle as they start down, and glances back at him.

“Anyway, we don’t need a golden retriever,” he tells her solemnly. “We have Raymond.”

She doesn’t stop laughing until they get back to the Arrowcave.

#captain canary #ripples in time #chance are #arrowverse

[themclovenlegacy]

In light of the new Nathema update, I’ve decided to write a fic about Oddosal and his future husband Theron.

Side note: this fic has absolutely nothing to do with the new update, it just about a moment in time between these two sometime after Ziost. I haven’t written in a long time so…its probably gonna be bad. I don't care though, cuz this is my third post and its 2;30 in the morning. ill be less weird in the morning.

Here it is...

Theron stared out the window and over the horizon of Tatooine, admiring the view of the two suns as they set at dust. He closed his eyes as the peace he didn’t know he was missing settled over him. It had been a long time since he felt this way, or ever if he remembered correctly. But he had here, even if here was actually the stronghold of one of the most powerful Sith in Empire.

It had been months since he had last seen Oddosal. Since Ziost, it had been difficult to keep up with him. He had been put on leave for his actions and that left him under near constant surveillance when he was at the office. Well, he wasn't proud at what he done back then, but he thought it was a good idea at the time. Anything to protect the Republic from the emperor, right.

What surprised him though was Oddosal and his behavior in those last moments he was with him. Being an imperial citizen and a member of the Dark Council, it would be wise for him to look for different ways to improve the Empire and stop the Emperor and, though he hated to admit it, that could have been possible if he had taken Master Surro with him to do, what he knew to be, an intense and intrusive experiment on her mind to find information. Instead, he let her go with him. He know Lana was seething, and beside her complaint when he was there, he wasn't sure if she would dare to question him twice after he left.

One thing he did know was that Odd’s wasn’t like any Sith he had ever met before, or probably would ever meet again.

Which lead him to his current position. After months of administrative leave, then returning to the field with the condition that he would have to routinely check in with a partner, he was allowed more freedom. He’d be ashamed to admit it but one of the first things he did was check up on his not-so-lover. He even fiddled with the communicator he receive upon their last meeting on Yavin 4, wondering what it would be like if he actually used it, even though he should have did the right thing and turned it over to be tracked and possibly used to help the Republic.

After several weeks of this, he decided that using caution wasn't one of his strong points anyway and the worst that could happen was...well...he’d rather not think about it. So, while relaxing in his private quarters on Coruscant, making sure no one would drop in and hear anything, he type in the frequency and waited for someone to answer. He was surprised someone picked up, and even more so when he saw who it was.

Staring back at him was Cipher Nine, a legend and a ghost even in the Republic. Their eyes met, her red ones to his green, her expression clearly bemused.

“Theron Shan?” she said quizzically.

“Uh…”

All of a sudden, her eyes widen incredulously before she started laughing, her blue face flushing in amusement. He watch in confusion as she wiped the tears from her eyes from laughing so hard. When she spoke again, she let out little chuckles to herself.

“I can’t believe...she was...I thought he was insane...but here you are...and...I owe her hundred credits now,” she muttered out. Clearly whatever she was talking about involved him and possibly a bet.

“Uh...I think I have to wrong frequency. I’ll just…,” he paused, rubbing his forehead nervously.

“No, No. This is the right one. Shaynasa gave you this holo, right” she questioned? All he could do was nodded.

“Then you got it right. You’re probably wondering why it called me in the first place. Well long story short, Me, Shay, Oddosal have worked together for a while so I owe them.” Theron just stared wide-eyed.

“Soooo, I’m guessing you wanna meet up with him then. Missing those muscled arms at night? That burning gaze? That tall sta…”

“Ok I get it,” Theron rubbed his redden face with a sigh as she snickered, “Normally, I would want to know how he got someone who literally doesn’t exist anymore to work with him, but I'm not really surprised by it. So, since we’re here, I wanna...uh.”

“See him.”

“...Possibly.”

“Well, Possibly, I have news for you. He wants to see you just as bad so you're in luck. You’re not the only one who’s been keeping tabs on their significant other. Odd can’t stand not knowing you’re ok. For a man so powerful and lived the type of carefree lifestyle he had before, it's a wonder he commits so much time to your wellbeing,” she shrugs.

He was speechless. Just knowing that he wasn't the only one looking out for whatever they had left him feeling funny inside.

“Since this is happening, I have one thing to clear up first,” she continued on. Suddenly, her eyes harden and she spoke icily, “Should you do anything to hurt him in any kind of way, you will regret it. You got that?”

All he could do was nod his head in shock and agreement.

“Good, now let get you two lovebirds in the same room.”

After some weird planning, it was decided that Tatooine, due to their laxer laws would be the place to meet. Theron wasn't so sure about how they were going to get him there and since there wasn't many missions coming out of Tatooine right now, he didn't want to look suspicious asking about it.

“Let me handle that,” the cipher had said with an ominous grin.

Theron really didn’t believe anything would come of that call. How was she gonna get him alone Tatooine? He had his doubts, but not even a week later he was on a ship to Tatooine. The director apparently just learned of a contact, a bounty hunter who worked with someone under the dark council who had information exchange for safety. Usually the director didn’t go for missions like this, but whatever the information was it’s important and it was a time sensitive mission and he was suddenly the only available person that could go. However, the director informed him during the trip over, due to the planets mostly uncharted nature, he was instructed that communication would be limited to priority and emergency call only.

So there he was on a speeder to an undisclosed location where upon his arrival met his next surprise. A blaster pointed at his face. He followed the blaster up the arm and to the blue face of the renowned Great Hunter. They stared at each other for a moment from she rolled her red eyes and holstered her blaster.

“If you were a bounty right now, you’d be dead. My sister said you were reckless, but for a spy, I didn’t think you’d be this stupid too.”

“Uh…”

“Love makes you dumb, yeah yeah. No time for small talk, I'm on hunting vacation with my husband and my little sister is lucky I kind of like her a little. Now move.”

Theron didn’t time to respond as he pushed onto another speeder and they sped away.

Once they arrived she gave him the passcode and unlocked security for him.

“Big Bad won’t be here for a few more hours, so get comfortable. Also should you decide to explore, don’t go into the big dome building, Shay keeps her pets there and some are mean. Some rooms are private so they’ll be locked. Need anything ask the droids. Bye.”

With that as quick as she was here, she was gone, leaving him alone.

Leaning over the lounge couch lining along the walls, he continued to watch the beauty in the sky. Since he’d gotten here, he’d roamed the surrounding area, steering clear of the dome when he heard a loud roar. Most rooms were locked, but some that weren’t contained bedrooms suites or libraries and artifacts.

Upon returning to the lounging area, he marveled at the fact that there was no sand in this area even with the open outlook in front of him. He discovered that due to some type of tech, perhaps a field generator?, nothing came in or fall out of the area. He tested this by tossing a pebble at it. He was about to try again, but a droid abruptly appeared and  ‘politely’ reminded him some places are hard to clean and would appreciate it if him stopped.

So he just relaxed and finished up on some work he had been putting off. Some time later, he heard the locks disengage and the door slide open. He looked up and saw Oddosal, Shaynasa and his crew enter. Oddosal paused by the door as his crew mates wandered off towards their quarters. As the crew entered the elevator to the lower levels, Shay smirked and winked at him as the door slide closed.

Finally after months without seeing each other, they were finally alone. Theron stood from his seat and stared at Oddosal, before looking down at his feet. He looked back up to say something and stepped back, almost falling back down into his seat, as Oddosal was suddenly standing in front of him, eyes baring down at him. They stared at each other, studying each other’s faces. Theron realized that Odd’s eyes were more a burnt orange now then the blazing yellow they were when he last saw him.

“I…” Theron started.

Suddenly, Theron’s lips were captured in a hungry kiss and he was lifted up into strong arms. He wrapped his arms around Odd’s neck and legs around his hips as he was carried across the room to an adjacent one. As he the door slid open and closed behind them, he decided they could talk later.

***

Theron slowly blinked his eyes open at the sound of a holo beeping. He heard a groan behind him, before an arm stretched over him and cut it off. The room return to silence as Odd nuzzled back into him. He sighed and closed eyes again, comforted by the arm thrown over his waist.

“Sorry, alarm,” Odd mumbled into his neck. Theron just smiled sleepily.

“I wish we can be like this more,” he sighed as he turned around in Oddosal’s arms, rubbing across his bare chest. Oddosal grinned and leaned over to kiss him. They both hummed at the kiss before they pulled apart.

“This is really weird for me.” Theron said. “I’m not use to whatever this is between us. I don’t know...I mean... I…”

He was silenced by a peck on the lips.

“Let’s just spend what time we have together. No worries, no Empire, no Republic. Just us. We aren’t here for either of those things so let’s just enjoy where we are for now,” Oddosal whispered into his neck before nipping at it.

Theron moaned softly and just stared up at the ceiling as Oddosal buried into his neck pressing more kisses there.

“You’re weird.”

Oddosal just laughed and rolled on top of him, kissing him into submission. Theron just closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Odd’s neck as he worked his way down his chest. Well, if something goes wrong he’ll deal with it later. He’s here now so he’s just going to enjoy this time he has. Though, he should probably worry about what he was going to tell the director now.

“Ouch!” Theron looked at Odd as he pull away from him with a deadpan stare.

“You’re thinking too much again.” he said, kissing him after. Theron gripped the back of his head as they kissed hungrily. Theron thought, ‘yeah, he was’ and let his mind go blank.

#oc: oddosal #SWTOR OC #my headcanons #My main #my writings #my swtor #Theron Shan #After SOR #Before KOTET #not smut #I don't writing smut well #*shrug* #I'm done #theron shan romance #odd-verse

[yukiwrites]

Hey yuki it's me again(free summon anon) and I noticed that you are opening requests and I was wondering if you could write a small fic that includes my fave OTP Shigure X Kamui probably about shigure's new dancer outfit and I guess Kamui gets hot and bothered by it.

I find that outfit hideous though saljdkçjalsdasd but of course i can work around this ;D Hope you ACTUALLY meant ‘hot and bothered’ cause this is hot... and there’s someone bothered in there too xD

A new notice from the Heroes' team had arrived Castle Valla earlier that morning; one that explained an upcoming event featuring singers and dancers.

Of course, Azura was the first one they gave a package to: it contained the clothes they would want her to wear during the performance. Delighted, the princess curtsied as she brought the package close to her chest. It had been a while since her last show at Cyrkensia and she would very much like to perform again.

The second one called was her son and King of Valla, Shigure.

... Or it would be, were him at the premises. The King had gone to inspect an area he, his wife Kamui and his mother would perform a sealing rite at before dawn and was yet to come back.

"Pray, allow me to take it," Queen Kamui approached the servant, taking the package. "I'll be sure to tell him the details."

Kamui was informed that his outfit was never seen before, contrary to Azura's -- it was inspired on the one his mother would wear and they would be grateful if both parties would accept the role.

"Well, I cannot speak for him, but..." Azura tilted her head to her friend, a proud smile painted across her face. "I'm fairly sure he will accept without a doubt."

The Queen nodded. "Mhm. It's been his most fervent wish to perform alongside his mother, after all."

With that, the envoy left, promising to come back to hear the King's thoughts later that day.

Kamui and Azura went their ways; one to her room to change, the other to her quarters to wait for her husband to come back. It wouldn't take long, but Kamui could BARELY contain her curiosity, so she opened the package as soon as she got into her bedroom.

"Oh gods... it's... it's..." She held her laughter. "It's hideous, pffft! What IS this skirt? By the gods..." She sprawled the outfit across the bed, connecting each accessory to where it should be. "It really is inspired in Azura's clothes, though." She commented as she eyed the costume once more.

Even the thigh bracelet was akin to the one Azura used -- but for Shigure, it was to be worn over a pair of pants.

"... Or was it?" Kamui grinned evilly, readjusting the outfit as an idea popped into her head. "Yuuup. Yup, yup. much better," she chuckled, her body trembling with mirth. "Now it looks even more like Azura's, pfft..."

Kamui had to hold her breath so as not to guffaw, rolling the pants into a bundle and throwing it under a pillow. Then, she set out to reorganize the outfit back into the package, eager to see how that thigh armlet would look in her husband's milky-white skin.

Shigure opened the door at the very moment Kamui had finished placing the package by the bedside table and it took all the Queen had not to jump out of her skin, a smirk almost making its way on her lips. "Oh, Shigure!"

"Hm? My love, I didn't see you there." He smiled as he made his way towards his wife. "I heard there was word from the Heroes team and came to check what they had left for me." The King said, placing one hand by Kamui's back, looking at the package.

"I was just about to put it here for you," she said, proud of herself for keeping the poker face as he placed a peck over her cheek, his free hand reaching for the package. "They said a performance was about to be scheduled and asked if you would like to sing alongside Azura on a stage."

Shigure immediately perked up, his eyes shining through his long bangs. "Of course I would! Can this be real? Oh, gods, I must practice...!" He blushed as his heart beat wildly in his chest -- could he even measure to his mother's gift for song? Ah, but just the prospect of singing alongside her already made him want to burst into song!

"Hush, love," Kamui giggled, patting him on the back so as to bring him back from his own thoughts. "They even prepared a matching outfit for you two." She glanced from him to the package on his hand and couldn't hold her grin.

Though, for him, she was smiling widely. He pressed his lips into a thin line and felt like pulling his wife into a dance. "Me and Mother... matching and singing? It's a dream come true!" He dug his face into Kamui's shoulder and breathed heavily, unused to feeling so hyper about something. "May- May I try it on right now? Oh, how excited I am..."

It's here! Kamui thought, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes. "Please, go on!" She let go of the hug and gestured towards the folding screen, "I wanna know how it fits, too." She couldn't help but smirk, but Shigure was blind with a bubbling happiness to notice his wife's prank and gleefully went behind the screen to change.

He didn't notice, but he was humming the whole time. Kamui crossed her arms and walked back and forth by the bed, suppressing a smirk so hard her cheeks hurt. He hummed as he undressed and kept humming as he opened the package.

Kamui sat on the bed and kicked her legs impatiently. It was when Shigure's hums died that she knew. She knew he realized there weren't any pants in the costume.

"Oh. Oh my." She heard him whisper with that embarrassed and melodious tone only he could.

"What happened?!" Kamui replied a bit too eager, right beside the folding screen.

To Kamui dismay, Shigure took a few seconds to reply, but when he did, it was with the smallest of voices. "It appears it is heavily inspired in Mother's outfit..." He gulped as they both heard the 'click' of the thigh armlet closing around his leg.

Just by hearing his embarrassed voice was enough to make Kamui's throat go dry -- not to mention how hard her heart was urging her to see the results of her prank. "C-can I look?" She asked as she placed a shy hand by the folding screen.

Startled, Shigure got up from the chair and nodded. Noticing how Kamui couldn't see the nod from behind the screen, he said in a small voice "y-you can."

Immediately the Queen jumped in front of her husband and by the gods, the sight in front of her was better than she expected!

He was blushing so hard his entire face all the way to both ears were beet red -- even down to the tip of his fingers which held the diagonal cut of the skirt towards his crotch area so as to hide it. His exposed leg and arm contrasted with the dark outfit so well Kamui thought he could actually go out there dressed like that since it would mesmerize any and everyone.

His long, slender leg trembled with embarrassment as he refused to look his wife in the eye, the only thing preventing his genitals to be exposed was the fluffy fabric of the skirt he pulled down with so much vehemence.

This is bad, Kamui muttered to herself, I thought I could laugh at this but oh, oh no... "You look adorable, Shigure," she breathed out, taking a step forward.

"Wha-" He jerked his head up to look at her, but immediately looked down again, taking a step back. "I can't possibly perform in this...!" He huffed.

"Why not?" Kamui smiled lustly, taking another step so as to touch his hot cheeks with both hands and look at his eyes. The poor thing was sweating so much and was almost in tears -- he wanted to sing beside his mother so much, but not like this! "I'm sure your singing and your body would enrapture the audience," Kamui placed a kiss over his trembling lips, action of which made him take another, surprised, step back and fall back on the chair. "Like you just did with me." The Queen finished before wrapping both hands behind her husband's neck and locked him in with a deep kiss.

It was only then that Shigure finally saw the lustful glint his wife's eyes had... and how it reflected on the hunger of her kiss. "Kah-Kamui..." He tried to speak sense into her as she trailed her kisses to his weak spot -- his earlobe. "Ahn...!" He moaned as she bit it and immediately covered his mouth with one hand.

"So, so cute, Shigure." Kamui licked his lips as she looked down to his now exposed erection. Really, he was so easy to tease.

The contrast between the thigh armlet, his pale skin and his red erection only made Kamui's throat even drier than before. "Look at your state, already," she hummed as she slightly flicked his glans. "So cute, my Shigure."

He had inadvertently held onto his wife's back as she kissed him, but then flinched with the flick and looked at her with teary eyes and flushed cheeks. "I can't go out like this..." He almost sobbed with his delicious voice, making Kamui lick her lips and get on her knees. "K-Kamui!" He protested, but a little too late as she had already started licking his shaft. "Ahn...Hah..."

The Queen rolled her eyes in delight -- his erection trembled under her tongue as his melodious voice made her body even hotter. She licked his glans, enjoying how he was already leaking preseminal fluid. He has always been so weak to her mouth it always made her want to do it more and more.

She breathed out on his shaft, her warm breath making it tremble even more under her hand which pulled the skin up and down. But slowly. Very slowly.

"Ah... hah... K-Kamui, p-please..." He begged, throwing his head back in pleasure, squeezing his eyes so as to place himself in reality. "I...!"

"So, so cute." Kamui couldn't stop repeating it before she put it all into her mouth, her tongue twirling around it as she went up and down.

Shigure squeezed his wife's shoulders with all he had, pleasure fogging his mind and making him forget to muffle his voice. "Oh, Kamui... how can you make me feel... this way...!" How could she make him feel so good after feeling so embarrassed moments previous? Even now he wasn't worried about staining the costume, as he should, and only wanted to feel her mouth more and more!

Kamui sucked with gusto, enjoying how his voice started to lose its restraint. When he huffed for breath, Kamui knew he was getting close to the orgasm. She then proceeded to suck only the glans in hopes of catching all of his fluids.

"I- Kamui-ah...!" He called her name as he always did in those times, his entire body trembling with pleasure as he felt the orgasm shaking him from inside-out. Kamui licked her lips with gusto as the splutter of semen leaked out of her mouth after she swallowed it.

"Ah, my Shigure. My cute, cute Shigure..." Kamui licked the excess of semen on his now limp penis, hoping for more. "Won't you really perform with this?"

His mind still fogged with the climax, Shigure only weakly shook it from one side to the other. "No... only for you... For you." He huffed with satisfaction, enjoying the tingling sensation she left by his member while she still licked it.

"Even if I told you that a pair of pants actually came with the outfit?" She giggled as she placed her head on his exposed thigh and looked up to him to enjoy his reaction.

First, it was still groggy. He was about to say "Even if it came with actual-" but then it hit him and he widened his eyes. "It came with pants?!" He almost jumped out of his seat, but Kamui being in the middle of his legs prevented it. "K-Kamui, why would you -- I actually felt terrible for entertaining the thought of refusing..."

The Queen averted her eyes to his private parts, still inches away from her face. "Well, I thought it would be amusing... and it was." She licked her lips once again, a smirk brewing on her face.

However, Kamui felt a familiar shiver down her spine with the look her husband gave her. He used one hand to slick his hair back and gaze down at her with both golden eyes. They shimmered with the same look Kamui's did moments ago.

She gulped with excitement. She knew that look!

"Oh?" His voice sounded deeper than usual, making Kamui's skin bristle with anticipation. "Do you know what happens to pranksters in this sacred Land of Valla?" He tilted his head to the side as he grabbed one of her arms and got up.

She was way too eager to reply, and almost jumped when she did. "They... get punished?"

Shigure smirked. "You DO like this, do you not?" He pulled her to an embrace, licking her pointy ear.

Kamui almost screamed a 'yes!' at the top of her lungs, but every time the controlling Shigure surfaced, she felt weak in the legs and was unable to turn away from him. Ah, how WELL that prank worked!

#shigure #shigukamu #shigure x kamui #fire emblem fates #kamui #a sin a day keeps the thirst at bay #my writings #Anon #Yuki Replies