#RHYTHM HEAVEN FANDOM PLEASE PULL THROUGH

[angellayercake]

Eating with the sinners

Papa Emeritus IV x Father Jim DeFroque | NSFW/MDNI | AO3

When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:16-17

'Blah blah Jim is bad' Yes I am well aware thank you and that is why he is so fun to write. Let the religious corruption kink fandom enjoy some damn good religious corruption please and thank you. If it isn't for you just keep scrolling or click the handy dandy back button. And if it is for you please enjoy :)

He groaned as he felt it dripping down his face, he was so close just needed something, a little bit more. Alone, knelt in the middle of the stadium under a beam of light desperate to find his completion. He heard him before he saw him. His measured steps echoing in the vast empty space. 

‘Seeking absolution Father?’ The Italian lilt of his deep voice never failed to send a shiver down his spine. He thought he had left him at the bar when these nice gentlemen had invited him to join their team building activity but apparently not. 

‘Seeking somethin that's for sure.’ His own voice came out breathier than he liked but given his current preoccupation it was what it was. He let out a moan as he reached down to massage his balls as he continued the steady rhythm on his cock, thumbing the head on every up stroke.

The white eye, unnerving under normal circumstances, practically shone in the darkness as he watched, he always watched, never participated. If there ever was a time Jim wished that would change it was right now. Closing his eyes he whispered a prayer. ‘Let him help me, Lord, find completion in your name. So that I may honour you with my body as I do with my soul.’ 

He was wrung out, his work never over. His days were spent ministering to the faithful, the successful, helping them to the light through their generosity with the guidance of the Lord and his word. But his nights spent reaching out to the damned, thanks to the guidance of this man. To help them he had to understand them, delve into the depths of their depravity and then bring them back to peace. The responsibility was a burden but one he bore gladly if it meant returning sinners to the fold of the Almighty.

And how could he not when he was following the example of Christ himself. When he had first met this man, the Italian with a spark in his eye, an interest in the Lord that rivalled Jim’s own and tight tight trousers, he had questioned why a man of the cloth would spend his time with such company. ‘Those who are healthy have no need for a physician, but those who are sick do. John 5:31.’ He had told him. He had simply nodded and Jim knew then that they were on the same mission.

‘Our Lord would be so proud of you, Father, bringing all those people to sin.’ His motion stuttered as he heard him speak but he must have misheard. He was so close now, almost close enough that Jim could reach out and touch him. Redoubling his efforts on his own cock he watched the material around his crotch stretch and tighten around his obvious arousal. ‘Ensuring their souls are condemned.’ 

‘To heaven?’ What else could he mean? They were men of God weren’t they? Learning the ways of the sinners so they may deliver them from evil because you can not defeat evil if you do not understand it. 

‘No Father,’ He laughs but doesn’t elaborate instead grabbing the back of his head, fingers clenching in his hair and forcing his head up at an uncomfortable angle until all he can see is eyes. He can feel the hardness now where his chin is pressed into his crotch and he can't help but whine at all the sensation as he continues pulling away frantically at his cock. The pleasure and the high all clouding his mind, the topic of their brief conversation slipping from him. 

‘You have never resisted a temptation in your life have you Father?’ He asks as he pulls back working the laces of his trousers loose to free his erection. It’s thick and red and already weeping and all Jim can think of is tasting him.

‘He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’ Even as distracted as he is, the scripture slides from his tongue as though he was standing in front of his congregation.

‘Corinthians 10:13? I don’t think this is quite what He meant but if you wish to endure I can help with this.’ He uses the grip on his hair to drag him closer and angle his head so he slides straight into his mouth and down his throat.

‘People like you Father, you are the problem. You preach and you take and you judge and you condemn. You think that because you can quote the bible, because you whisper your silly apologies in prayer that you are good.’ If he could concentrate on anything other than the cock in his mouth he wouldn’t like what he was hearing but he was powerless to reply while getting fucked so thoroughly and he couldn’t resist the urge to swallow around the intrusion taking him as deep as he could. 

‘Forgive me Father for I let a whore give me road head? Forgive me Father for snorting coke off of your book? Forgive me Father for letting eight strapping young men come on my face? Forgive me Father for misleading your so say faithful and using their donations to fund my excess?  He may forgive all of that I suppose, I do not know.’ He punctuated each question with a hard deep thrust that had Jim scratching at his thighs and gagging around his thick cock.

‘Will your God forgive you for letting the Antichrist fuck your face?’ If he could think he would be ashamed of how he came thrusting against his shin as he ripped his face away from him leaving him gasping for air and drooling. He falls to the floor without the firm grip keeping him upright, landing in the puddle of his own spend.

‘What about this one Father?’ He grunts as he takes himself in hand. ‘The one who does what is sinful is of the devil, because the devil has been sinning from the beginning. John 3:8.’ He grunts as he finally comes adding to the stripes painting Jim's already soiled face. He jumps as each stream lands, the words finally sinking in as he scrambles back from the man standing above him, reaching under his shirt for his crucifix but finding it missing. 

‘Looking for this Father?’ The chain is twisted around his fingers, the cross dangling in between swaying in a hypnotising rhythm and as it sways the figure of Christ twists and warps until all he can is a serpent, fangs bared and ready to lunge. 

‘What are you?’ He hisses, voice cracking in fear and from the recent misuse of his throat, hands gripping at himself to try and erase what he had just done as the man laughs at him. He pulls open the collar of his shirt and it is there in black and white, over his heart, the mark of the beast. 

‘I am the Devil, I suppose,’ his pointed teeth glint in the weak beam of light as he leans over, pinning him in place with his gaze, the horrid white eye seeming to pierce into his very soul. ‘Your sinning Father, it was so deviant, so twisted. I had to come and see for myself.’ 

‘No, NO!’ He finds the strength to get to his knees somehow and starts to pray even as he feels the the effects of the night start to take a toll on his body. He will not let the devil take him now. ‘Father in the name of Jesus Christ. I plead with you to break any chain that the devil has on me…’ A loud evil laugh cuts through his prayers and he falters, strength failing as he falls to the floor once more. 

‘And Jesus said unto him, ‘Away from me Satan! For it is written, worship the Lord your God and serve only him’ Matthew 4:10.’ But the devil before him just continued to laugh, the grating sound ringing around the space and echoing in his mind. He presses his hands over his ears to block it out as he staggers backwards and away. 

‘I have not influenced you Father, I am just here to honour one of my most loyal subjects.’ He feels those talented fingers scratch through his soiled hair working through where it has begun to matt and dry and he almost almost succumbs to the touch but no, he is stronger than this he knows and he must never bow to the devil. He pushes the hand away rising to his feet, feeling righteous energy coursing through him. He knew he was right, that he was doing the Lord's work. This was just a test of his faith, a test that he must pass. 

‘Begone, Demon!’ He spits hoping it sounds as full of conviction as he feels. But the other man just laughs once again as he leaves. He laughs and laughs and laughs as he backs away, almost disappearing into the darkness except for that god forsaken white eye. 

‘It’s a little bit late for that, don't you think Father?’ He follows with a measured swinging step so calm even as he makes an obscene gesture at his crotch. ‘Jesus said no before I had the chance to get my dick out.’ He can only shake his head in disbelief. No he would not accept what this foul creature was saying but he runs out of time, his back hitting the wall and then that thing was pressed up against him. He has to suppress a shiver at his proximity, his body not having caught up to what had been revealed this night. ‘You took me so well Jim don’t you want to do it again?’ He feels his voice as much as hears it and knows he must not fail here. This is the true temptation. 

I hope you enjoyed the food @tasty-ribz​ and thank you @ghostchems​ for your help as always 💜

‘I’ll be seeing you Jim.’ He crushes down the jolt of something he feels at the prospect. He has been tested this night and by the Grace of God he has passed. He must continue on his course and bring the light of his Lord to all sinners. Smoothing down his shirt and righting his collar he checks his watch, just enough time to get back for morning mass and to his faithful flock. ‘For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to those of us being saved it is the power of God. Corinthians 1:18.’

[fizzyxcustard]

Anything Is Possible (2)

Part 1

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, brief smut

Summary: From the imagine, “Imagine you and Guy are in love but you are to be married to someone else. It feels like everything is keeping you apart."

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Requested by @linasofia I actually had a face in mind for Lord Edmund; Arnold Vosloo from The Mummy, although maybe slightly older. I feel he has that face which could easily be villainous.

Guy paced his room. His mind was in knots, twisted by turmoil. The very thought of losing you to someone else caused one of the knots to rise in his stomach and chest. The pain and intensity of it brought him to his knees at the side of his bed. Tears shed down his cheeks. Someone finally loved him and freely pledged themselves to him, but fate was against him. Nothing in Guy's life ever worked in his favour.

It was after midnight when Guy passed through the gates of Nottingham Castle, and swept away into the shadow of night. Stars twinkled overhead in the heavens. He stopped for a second on the cobbled high street, and looked up. He remembered the first time you had made love. It was in the middle of summer. In a field, beneath an old oak tree. As you both rested together, basking in the afterglow of your passions, the first words you had said to him were, "The stars are watching us."

A tap broke through into your dreams, pulling you back into the waking world. Your heartbeat began to pick up pace, and then as you looked to your right hand side, out the window, you saw him. "Guy!" you exclaimed in a rough whisper, shooting to the window. You opened it and grinned at him.

Relief washed over his features, mixing with a content smile. He pulled his leather gauntlets off, dropping them on to your bed beneath the window inside. He cupped your cheeks, needing to feel your warm skin in his hands.

You closed your eyes and felt his lips on yours. They were slightly chilled, but grew hot as your kiss deepened.

In the dark of the room and amid silence, which was nearly broken in the throes of your passion, you made love again.

Guy rested over you and kept his hands locked in yours. The constant kisses you shared muffled any hint of noise that could have carried through the house. Your bodies were so synchronised, moving together in a magical rhythm.

"I love you," he whispered, once your climaxes had been reached.

When sunshine came, Guy was gone. You smiled to yourself and began to dress for duties. Your father had secured you a position as maid within the castle. You attended to the main wings and guest wings, and thus, met Guy.

A tap came to your door and your mother appeared. "Hurry! You are running late."

Suddenly you noticed your mother's eyebrows furrow in confusion, and her gaze dropped to something on your bed. You looked over at the bed and swallowed hard at the sight of Guy's leather gauntlets. They were unmistakable. Black leather with gold clasps running vertically down the back of the hand. Everyone recognised them.

"You're treading dangerous ground," your mother said simply. "Gisborne has no idea how much danger he's putting us in."

"I love him, Mother," you replied.

Your mother sighed and walked toward you. "I want nothing more than to see you loved and happy. But above that, I want you safe. Gisborne may bring you love and happiness, but not safety."

"How do I know that Edmund won't harm me once we're married? Once we're married then I'll be his to do with whatever he pleases. I'd rather him kill me; I'd still be free. It's you I worry about." You grabbed her hands and squeezed them. "Guy promised he'd keep you safe."

In the castle and you made the beds in the guest wing, also cleaning the furniture and brasses. Nausea rolled through you as you kept imagining the only viable outcome of this scenario: pain. Physical, emotional and mental. Edmund would torture you. Cruelty was all the man knew.

Guy stepped back into his quarters, seeing his gauntlets on the bedside table. He picked them up and smiled, immediately knowing who had put them there. Then his eyes were drawn to the opposite bedside table. Wild flowers, coloured yellow and red, stood proudly in a glass vase. He recognised them straight away as the flowers which grew in the field behind your house.

It was mid-afternoon when your father called you out of your duties, telling you to accompany him home immediately. He had been frustrated and demanding in his tone. There was fear in his eyes, you noticed.

Guy saw you and your father passing across the courtyard. He could plainly see your father holding your arm, pressing you to move quicker. The guard speaking with Guy continued on, requesting advice. "Sir Guy? What do you think?"

Guy turned on his heel, ready to leave, only to hear the guard calling again. "I don't care what you do!' Guy shouted back over his shoulder, and began to half run down the steps which led into the main entrance and exit of the castle.

By the time that Guy had made it to the cobbled lane where you lived, he could see a horse approaching from the southern road. That road came straight through and into the small residential area in which you lived. The horse came closer and within seconds, Guy could plainly see who it was. Lord Edmund.

Edmund dismounted his horse, unawares that Guy was watching from a distance. Easily the same height, if not slightly taller than Guy, bald, menacing dark eyes. Everyone knew Edmund.

"Make yourself presentable," your father ordered you. "Edmund wishes to have dinner with you. Quick!"

Tears of heart wrenching sadness and frustration stung your eyes. A thick lump was sitting painfully in your throat. Your hands shook as you picked out a dress.

You heard the door open and close down the hall.

"My Lord!" you heard your father say loudly.

A dark shape caught your eye and you saw Guy at your window. You raced to the window and opened it, kissing him hard. "Please take me away with you," you wept. "He intends to take me to dinner."

"Where will he take you?" Guy asked, brushing a stray piece of hair from your brow.

"I don't know. He has travelled far, so maybe the castle?"

Guy grit his teeth. Not only was Edmund ripping you away from Guy, but was also pissing on Gisborne's territory.

"If he's taking me to dinner then that must mean the wedding preparations are soon to be underway," you said, succumbing to sobs.

Your father's voice came from the other side of your door. "Are you almost ready? Edmund wishes to leave shortly. Do not hold him up."

Guy cupped your cheek, his eyes also filling with tears. "You'll be mine, I swear," he told you. "Hold on to that. I'll make sure you're watched tonight. He won't lay a finger on you."

The two of you kissed one last time before Guy disappeared and you internally prepared yourself for the evening ahead.

***

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Guy of Gisborne tag list: @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig @whoooooisthis

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[incomprehensiblelentils]

Bering and Wells Reunion Panel Transcription (4/17/2021)

This is from the ClexaCon Virtual panel with Joanne Kelly and Jaime Murray, with Dana Piccoli as moderator and Mark as ASL interpreter. I spent around six hours on this and there were really only a couple of brief bits I couldn’t make out - I tried to make this as thorough as possible even though the audio quality was iffy at points and there was a lot of overlapping talking. I also included all of the ums and uhs in the interest of thoroughness so sorry if that gets annoying. Let me know if I’ve gotten any screen names wrong.

Content notes: brief discussion of on-set injury, allusions to homophobia from higher-ups, discussions of hostile workplace experiences due to gender, brief discussion of the ovarian cancer subplot, Jo misgenders Mark once and then corrects herself.

Dana: And I think we are live! Hey everyone, welcome, welcome, this is day 2 of ClexaCon Virtual. So glad to be here with you for our Warehouse 13 Bering and Wells panel. What a great video! I believe that was Mal that made that. Fantastic work! [They showed a fanvid prior to the panel on the stream.] Uh, I want to take a second to introduce Mark, our ASL interpreter. Thank you so much for being here, Mark. Well, I know that the Bering and Wells fandom is still going strong and, um, I’m so excited to be able to present this panel to you today, so without further ado, let’s get started. It’s been seven years since we last embarked on the wonderfully quirky world of Warehouse 13 and we’re thrilled to have not one, but two of the show’s stars here with us, Bering and Wells in the flesh, please welcome Joanne and Jaime!

Jo: [laughs] Hi!

Jaime: Hi guys!

Dana: Hi!

Jaime: Oh my goodness, I was tearing up watching that, that was just...

Dana: It’s so good, right?

Jaime: And Mal made it, of course, I mean just, the fandom is so amazing, that we have a fan who made that amazing movie, and I’m sitting here... were you tearing up, Jo?

Jo: Yeah... [laughs]

Dana: She’s like, I can’t talk right now!

Jaime: Aww.

Jo: Yeah, it’s, you know, it’s like, it’s like a, a wormhole, it’s like going in a wormhole, really, to see that put together in that way, and just, that somebody did that is, um, crazy, wonderful.

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: When, when we are in person in, uh, in, in Las Vegas, I’m often backstage with the actors as they see these videos maybe f- for the first time, and your reaction is the reaction that everyone has. They all get teary, they all just like hold onto each other, it’s, it’s really sweet and wonderful.

Jaime: Oh my gosh, I, I wish I could go back in time and like, we film more of it and, and enjoy it more, because sometimes when you’re in it, you’re just going so fast and, you know, you don't even realize the meaning of, of, of what you’ve created until you see it through the eyes of the fans and what it meant to them, and then I, I wish I could lean into it more. [laughs]

Dana: Well, we’re certainly gonna get into that. [laughs]

Jaime: [laughs]

Dana: Alright, well, let’s kick things off! Uh, as of a we- a week ago, I was prepping to interview Jaime, and then suddenly the heavens opened up, and what was one became two. [they laugh] Joanne joined the party! How did this crazy kismet even happen?

Jo: I’m trying this new thing where I say yes. [laughs]

Jaime: [laughs] Well done!

Jo: Thanks. [laughs] Um, it’s a new thing I’m trying. Um, Jaime texted me and she’s like, I'm doing this thing, we had talked about it, I think the last panel we did at Dragon*Con maybe?

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: 2018.

Jo: And she had told me about ClexaCon and I was like, that, because I really enjoyed that panel that we did, it felt, you know, I think one of the reasons, and I think that the work between us is, and I look at it now and I’m so touched because I, and I also just think the world of Jaime as an actor, I think she’s brilliant and her choices are so clean and-

Jaime: Ditto.

Jo: -full heart forward, like I, I’ve always been a fan of what she bought, and just personally on set I was in a, it was a very male environment, and Jaime came and I was like, oh my god, like, someone to talk to, someone who cared, and she took care of me, like she really - so I just, I don’t know, when she reached out I was like, of course, yes, yes.

Dana: Like it’s in two days, sure! Let’s, let’s go!

Jaime: We missed each other as well. It was also an opportunity to hang out, like, we missed each other!

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: We had this flurry of texts of like, checking in with each other, and what-

Jo: What have you been watching? what are you doing?

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: Where are you?

Jaime: Yeah, so.

Dana: Oh, that’s amazing! So you’ve maintained this really wonderful friendship since, since the end of the show.

Jo: Yeah, I mean, actors are nomads and we’re very sort of, I feel, Jaime, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but it’s like those friends that you have that you don’t see forever, but when you see them you fall back into a rhythm automatically, there’s never, it doesn’t feel push or pulled, it’s just, it’s just nice.

Jaime: I, I think also for us, um, I think there’s a sisterhood as well, you know, I think that, you know, Jo just touched on it. You know, often in a cast there’s, um, it’s changing and it’s evolving all the time, and this was seven years ago, and it was seven years before that, it started, so like fourteen years ago-

Jo: Oh my god. [laughs]

Jaime: But there’s, ninety nine point five percent of the people behind the camera are men, the majority of the parts are often men, or it’s, it’s male and women, but the men have the more heroic bits and the funnier lines and you’re kind of struggling with that and you’re glad to be working so you’re kind of making good and making it okay, but you’re kind of like, you know, getting feels, and, you know, as, as Joanne said, it, you know, you’re laughing at dick jokes when you don’t find them particularly funny- [all laugh]

Jo: Like wow! Oh! [sarcastic thumbs up]

Jaime: And so when I came in, I saw Jo - I had been on shows, like I was on a show called Hustle, I was the only girl in the cast, and then everybody, uh, behind the camera was, um, all men. Um, on Warehouse we had one female writer on some episodes, um, we never had a fe- uh, um, a female director on anything or a producer-

Jo: No we had, we had Tawn- [presumably about to mention Tawnia McKiernan] we had two fem- we had a few, but we were-

Jaime: No- no- not on my, not on my episodes.

Jo: Oh, on yours.

Jaime: But it was just like, I came in and I saw Jo and I understood, and I knew what her experience was, and so there was this kind of kinhood, this sisterhood, and I think it, it’s not a male-female thing, but it’s, it’s a minority and majority thing. When you’re in a minority and the majority is doing something, you either have to get down with the program and go with that flow, or you get kind of fe- you feel like you’re difficult or annoying to everybody. And I kind of came in and I just was like, oh like, I get it, it’s hard, and I’m gonna give this woman, like, my, my energy and my love and, so it was-

Dana: So you were like I- you looked at Joanne and you were like, that is someone I can smash the patriarchy with!

Jaime: [laughs] Yes.

Dana: Let’s do it!

Jo: No, I read a lot of books [laughs] when we weren’t filming. I would like get on my chair and just be like this. [mimes holding book in front of face]

Jaime: Yes!

Jo: [laughs] Like I’m doing this now, I’ll see you guys when we’re rolling again, you know, it was really- and, but also, you know, it’s so, and it is changing, it’s changing and evolving in a really, um, at a wonderful rate, but also I would get so excited to be in a scene with another woman that wasn’t about a man, you know, or that we weren’t- uh, it was just so nice to have girl-girl scenes. That never happens, it hardly ever happens. Like, the majority of scenes that you do are about love or acrimony with men, um, and it’s so nice to have a relationship with a woman that’s, um, sort of reflective of how relationships with women actually are. Um, I’ve been, I shifted into writing because of frustration with just not reading stories that I felt were reflective of our, my experience as a woman, you know, that sort of, um, and I think that Bering and Wells sort of in, I mean, that’s when that ship turned for me, as well.

Dana: Well ho- hold that thought, we are, we are going there!

Jaime: And, and also because it wasn’t, it actually wasn’t written. Um, there was, in a way we were able to steer that ship, and then we’d already kind of given a road map for the way this energy was, so it wasn’t written in the conventional way. Like, even like, when a, when a, when a, when a woman will have a love interest it’s, it’s often written by men and it’s o- often in a conventional kind of way, whereas our relationship, at a time before people were even kind of, uh, exploring this that much, um, now, now much more, thank god, it’s more, more inclusive. But it was more kind of, um, uh, complicated than, than maybe would’ve been written about, so it was given more nuance, yeah.

Jo: You mean like, do you mean like actual relationships? [laughs]

Jaime: You what? Say that again?

Jo: Like actual relationships! [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah, yeah, yeah. [laughs]

Jo: You know, that don’t come in and you have a “where they start and where they finish,” like that we, oh, we know where they’re gonna end up so we’ll just gonna-

Dana: Right, right.

Jo: -move them around like chess pieces. It was actually an energy that Jaime and I created, and the story sort of evolved from that energy as - it was inside out as opposed to outside in, which I think made it a real relationship.

Dana: Well, so my friend Dorthy Snarker, she once said that HG and Myka’s storyline has been main text pretending to be subtext, which feels really apt to me.

Jaime: Yeah!

Dana: So at what point-

Jo: Very smart.

Dana: What point in the show did it really click with the two of you that this connection that HG and Myka shared was something much deeper?

Jo: Jaime just had, Jaime, you just explained this very coolly in, in, um-

Jaime: One of our chats.

Jo: Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you speak to this, why don’t you take this?

Jaime: Well, well, first of all like I said, there was like kind of this sisterhood when I came in and, um, Jo, uh, Jo wasn’t like, like it wasn’t like I came in and she was like hey let’s be friends. I came in and she was behind a book, and she wasn’t particularly accessible, and she wasn’t, like, she was a bit grumpy, you know. And so I was like, my personality type is like, how do I crack this nut? [laughs] How do I make this woman love me? [laughs] This is the most unaccessible woman-

Dana: That explai- Jaime that explains a lot! [laughs]

Jaime: This is the most unaccessible women on the set, the mo- the most unaccessible human to me. How do I make her fall in love with me? So it’s like partly my narcissism-

Jo: [laughs] Jaime Murray in a nutshell, everyone!

Jaime: -and my ego, um, so I was kind of winning her over off set, and then, you know, as she was opening up to me and, you know, she was kind of telling me about some of the challenges she was coming up against, I was like, yeah, that’s, that’s not fair, and yeah, I completely get that, you know. So we were kind of like having that kind of journey, I’m like, like, I’m like, oh no, you’re not crazy, everyone else is crazy! Like, let’s smash the patriarchy!

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: And then, and then unfortunately, um, Jo hurt herself really badly doing a stunt, and, um, you know, there’s no time to hurt yourself on a film set, and there’s no time to take time and, and kind of heal your back or anything like that. So she was taking some pretty strong painkillers and she was working through it, and I had spinal surgery, I, I know what back pain is like, it’s, it’s the worst. I mean, it’s literally everything, you know, you feel like an old person. And so I was, um, taking care of her as best as I could, and we had the scene, and it was the scene in the street where, I, I think it's the first scene that, where I get the grappler out-

Dana: Oh, the grappler.

Jaime: And I shoot it into the air and I put my arm around her and we shoot up-

Dana: We’re very familiar with this scene. [laughs]

Jo: [doing grappler motion] [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah, so, so it’s like, it had like, physicality, and also it was a really, um, we always laugh that Toronto has about five seasons in one day, so you’ll like start shooting the scene and then suddenly there’s a, like a snowstorm! Bright sunshine!

Jo: Then it’s sunny! Then rain!

Jaime: Torrential rain, wind - and it was one of those, and we had to move to a new location, we were really behind in the day, and she had this one pice of hair that kept on like blowing in her face-

Dana: Oh, I know where this is going, Jaime. [laughs]

Jaime: And she was, the thing was, she was like, also these painkillers-

Jo: I was like, I can’t even see with the hair, I was like, I was hopped up on so many painkillers...

Jaime: Yeah, she was hopped up, she was like, I can’t even get my hair out of the way!

Jo: I think I actually called that day, it was the only time where I was like, guys I can’t work anymore, like, I literally, the doctor was like, you need to rest and I’m like I can’t. And the first AD came over to me and he was like, you’re gonna have to say stop, because nobody is gonna stop the filming, and I didn't wanna do that because you don't want to be the person that, that loses the day.

Jaime: That’s part of it, isn’t it? You’re, you can’t be, you can’t have any vulnerability or be a woman in any way, any shape or form on a film set. [laughs]

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: So I knew in the morning, and so I’d been like trying to take care of her and had, had like this experience of having spinal surgery, so I was like caretaking as much, as best as I could. I’m a Cancerian as well, so it’s in my nature.

Dana: Sure.

Jaime: And, um, and we‘re in this scene and we’d had to kind of cut so many times, and this hair just kind of-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: -came over her face like this, and I just lent forward and on my line I just moved the hair out of her, um, face and put it back, and there was this, this look of genuine-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: -surprise and shock in her face because we hadn’t rehearsed it and, and, and you know, we rehearse everything, and then, and then Joanne, what did you say that you-

Jo: I said I had this feeling, you know, when she did that I was like, oooh, um, what’s happening? [laughs]

Dana: [laughs]

Jaime: What are these feelings I’m having?

Jo: I did not expect all these feelings.

Jaime: Someone is being nice to me in this hostile world!

Jo: I was like this is so, it was like, pink light came up and there was glitter all of a sudden, and a unicorn in the back and, um-

Dana: Yep.

Jaime: They were really good drugs, you can’t, they’re illegal now, you can’t get them now cause they’re illegal now, but-

Jo: [laughs] No, no! But that point I’d say that the storyline really developed from inside out, you know outside, it was actually something, she did something that made me respond in a certain way, and as an actor you have those openings and you can choose to go, you either close them, like if, if I don’t like an actor [laughs] and someone does something, I might go like, no, I don’t wanna gonna go with that- [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: -and change the track, but because I love Jaime and, and that happened, I sort of just was like I’m gonna go with this energy and see where it leads. And so it was a very organic, and it took me completely, and I had not expected it, it took me completely- but I liked it, so I started, then that...

Dana: So you are the reason, you two are the captains of the Bering and Wells ship. You made that happen!

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: But also I felt like HG, you know, she came from an era when the suffragette movement was, um, happening, and she was active in that, however, she had to write under her brother’s name, um-

Dana: Yeah.

Jaime: And as a woman, you know, she couldn’t be even open about her brilliance and she had to let her dimwitted brother take credit for it, and then she was frozen. So she was an activist before her time and suddenly she’s waking up in a world where there’s this dynamic woman, gun-toating woman kind of using her wits and brainpower and like, god bless Pete [laughs] but he was a little bit, like, she was the brains and the brilliance, and often he would be kind of like, you know, taking the credit for it or like having the girls flirt with him, and I just felt like if I grow up, if I woke up from, you know, a dream of, of being a suffragette and I woke up and I saw Myka, surely I would be more fascinated-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: -by this woman who is everything that I had ever wished to be, so I started playing off this fascina- I was fascinated by her. Pete was just as stupid as my brother. [laughs]

Jo: And I do have to say, I do have to give the showrunner Jack Kenny credit here too, because Jack really let us run with it and started to lean into it, and the writers were all very accepting, so it was, and, and Jack particularly, you know, we had a lot, we had our creative differences, but he was really generous in this storyline with us, like I think, he gave us a lot of rope to play with-

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: And it was interesting rope, because they never-

Dana: It was attached to a grappling hook is what it was!

Jo: Yeah, and they never, like what i really loved about it is the never like put it on the nose it was always very elliptical, we always had room to breathe, um-

Jaime: Well partly I don’t, I think that it was, it was, it’s funny to talk about it now because it doesn't seem that long a- long ago, but it-

Jo: But it was so long ago...

Jaime: -it was unusual-

Jo: For that.

Jaime: -for the genre and for the audience that we were going for to, to actually go there, um,

Dana: Yeah. Seven years ago, you’re absolutely right. Things have changed tremendously, and especially in the last five years.

Jo: Yeah, yeah.

Jaime: And, but I think that Jack and Drew, they were kind of excited about what we were doing, but actually, you know, we weren't sure what the network would say or what the advertisers might think, and so, um, you know, I’m really proud of the work that we were able to, to say-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: You know, being the first in some ways.

Jo: It’s interesting, you know, like Jaime texted me, she sent me this video and I was looking at it and I was just so proud-

Jaime: I sent you Mal’s video, I sent you one of Mal’s other videos.

Jo: She’s wonderful, so like shoutout to her!

Jaime: Yeah

Jo: That’s, yeah, it was gorgeous, and I was really proud of the work, you know, after, it’s, you create these things in a bubble and, I haven’t se- I haven’t seen Warehouse, I never watched it. [laughs] so I’m always very surprised to see these videos, it feels like I’m cracking open-

Jaime: And I want to say as well, you know, when we say we haven’t down and watched all the shows, or you know, in some peoples’ cases, many of the shows, you know, it’s, it’s not because we don’t love the show and we don't love the work that everyone else has done, done, it’s actually a lot of actors don't watch, um, their own work. It’s, if, if you’ve ever heard your own voice on an answer phone or something and you're like, who’s that? Oh my god, that’s me!

Dana: [laughs]

Jaime: Like, so when you see yourself on TV or screen it’s like that on crack, it’s absolutely terrifying, and, and you’re like oh my god, like behind a pillow, like-

Jo: Filled with self loathing and despair. [laughs]

Jaime: Yes.

Dana: That’s okay.

Jaime: Which is a work in progress, I’m trying to deal with that now.

Dana: Well, when, at what point did you realize that queer people were actually starting to flock to the show to support this direction with these characters?

Jaime: We, we didn't know, we didn’t know-

Dana: No?

Jaime: Well, we, um, I, um, Jo’s not on social media so I don’t know when she knew, other than maybe when I told her. I saw replies on twitter-

Jo: Comic Con.

Dana: Somebody didn’t like hire a plane and like, around the area with like, a Bering and Wells forever…?

Jo: I, I remember, I remember going to Comic Con, for me because that’s’ when I had the fan interaction, um, because I wasn’t on Twitter-

Jaime: Yeah, there were fans that told us.

Jo: And, and, uh, a lot of the women, I remember being asked some very specific questions during panels, and, you know, there's a lot of guys who like to talk at those panel so I didn’t get to talk a lot but I made it quite, I, I made it quite clear about how important that storyline was to me and it, it, I realized very quickly that it was important to a lot more women than me. I didn’t really realize, too, that storytelling wasn’t represented in that way, at that point, you know. I didn’t feel that. I didn’t feel like that was a groundbreaking choice, to choose to be attracted to a woman in a scene to me is life, it’s how I live my life, I, I’m you know, I don’t have those, I’m not in a box [laughs] and it so when I realized, it was a eye-opening moment. I’m like, I’m like, wait, wait, this is, this is something new that’s not being done?

Dana: You guys were kind of on, you were like right here [miming going up a hill or mountain] and then shortly after Warehouse, it started going like [woosh noise of going down the other side of the hill] and this wave of representation started happening.

Jaime: Well, ev- even in Warehouse, there was an openly gay character in, in Warehouse.

Dana: Right, yes!

Jo: Yeah, yeah, there was Aaron.

Jaime: But it’s been, it’s been incredibly, um, powerful for, for, for, for me, um, you know, I I, think that a lot of people, some people are like oh my god, you know, I wish I could go back to my childhood or my teenage years, I, you could not pay me anything for, I would not go back to my teenage years for love or money. It was, it was a incredibly painful time for me, um, and not a particularly happy time for me, and, um, you know, just awkwardness, you know, all the stuff that, you know, all the stuff people feel in their teens, all the bad stuff I felt in my teens, so when I’ve spoken to people at conventions, um, and they've’ spoken to me about, um, Warehouse having, and our relationship in Warehouse having a positive effect for them in their teen, in their painful teenage years, it’s, it, it, it can bring me to tears, because i- if I could have imagined having kind of that, some kind of impact when I’d been a teenager maybe I wouldn't have been so miserable, but, um, I’m really humbled by it. it’s really lovely.

Dana: Yeah, you, you most certainly have had a tremendous impact on a lot of peoples’ lives and I’m so glad that you are able to take that and keep it in your heart.

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: Speaking of this kind of sea change of the last few years, do you think that if Warehouse had been airing now that things might have ended differently? Do you think that maybe that subtext really would have been pulled much more into main text?

Jaime: You’d know better, Jo.

Jo: I...don’t know the answer to that question, um, perhaps, actually, absolutely! It’s twenty twenty-

Jaime: If we were writing it, maybe.

Jo: I mean, that’s what I’m trying to do. [laughs] Um, yeah, I think so. Maybe we would have been able to lean more into that storyline, um-

Jaime: Maybe we would’ve had a, be a stronger voice in shaping the narrative there.

Jo: It, yeah, I mean, Jack was, Jack was great about it, but it, it was a different, it was a different era. I think now is, is really a beautiful time for storytelling in the sense that it is really becoming so much more inclusive and we have representation, which, I mean, seeing ourselves represented in stories is how we understand ourselves in the world, and that’s, it’s so important, you know, it’s so important where we’re going, um, and I wish there could have been more of that in Warehouse, but I’m glad there was what there was.

Dana: Yeah.

Jaime: I, I, I also think that, um, you know, it’s changed so much in just such a short space of time, but particularly in the last couple of years, like, women were always, um, portrayed like, like, women always had to be perfect and kind of cute, and, you know, there had to be kind of something attractive or charming about them at all times, you know, and so we always had to put a bow on a woman to make her acceptable. And one of the things that I’m really loving is, you know, that women can be flawed and they can still, you can still love them and, you know, one of the things that always stun- stunned me is that I’ve been so welcomed into a community of kind, inclusive, um, you know, powerful activist, um, women, uh, um, and I’m like, why do these amazing women even like my characters when I’ve played such, um, a bad character, and it’s like-

Dana: But, but we love that! Queer women love a villain!

Jaime: Well, it’s like, flawed characters, and it’s like, and then recently I watched this show called, um, I hate Suzie Pickles [actual title of show: I Hate Suzie], um, there’s a show called, um, uh, I May Destroy You. They’re British shows, actually, both are.

Dana: Oh, yeah, it’s so good.

Jaime: And they, these are complex, um, women who make bad choices, and they self sabotage and they do things that are kind of frowned upon in society, and yet I love them, these women, and it’s like, if I can love these women for all their flaws, then maybe I'm okay too. And I think that we, we have to allow women to be flawed and lovable instead of just being cute little heroines that kind of support men at all times. I mean, it’s changed so much, that’s kind of, like the old, the old order of what it used to be, like, but yeah, it’s exciting.

Dana: That happe- That was what was written in my yearbook! Just, Dana Piccoli, flawed but lovable.

Jaime: Ah! [laughs]

Dana: So I totally, I totally can appreciate that.

Jaime: Was it that? Was it- that would be the best!

Dana: [laughs] I love that.

Jaime: Flawed and lovable, not but.

Dana: Oh yeah, yes, flawed and lovable, sorry, sorry. That’s, that’s what, that’s where I went wrong in the yearbook.

Jaime: Exactly.

Dana: Uh, J- Jaime. A lot has been made of this, the apples scene.

Jaime: Yes.

Dana: Do you think I smell apples is basically saying “I love you”? Were you, what do you think that Helena was trying to express at that time?

Jaime: I, I, I think that it was, um, a sense of, uh, acceptance, and, um, and, and, and, and, and love, I mean, uh, because Helena had always been such a, kind of a troubled character in so many ways and she had kind of, um, these struggles and this darkness and these mental health issues and I think that “I smell apples” was a, a, a wa- wa- was, she, she’d kind of come to the light, you know, she, she had, had kind of accepted herself, and it was such an altruistic act of love, she was sacrificing herself in order to save the others, that it was true love, like she’d overcome the darkness. So it was, uh, I, I, I, I, love that, uh, moment, yeah, that kind of-

Jo: I know we wanted, uh, one of the most beautiful definitions of love onscreen is recognition of your soul in someone else.

Dana: Mhmm.

Jo: That’s really what happens, and I thought that when Jaime did that, there was a very beautiful, I mean it’s sort of like Romeo and Juliet. You see this moment of, and we talked about it earlier, that energy, that to me is that. what that is-

Jaime: Yes.

Jo: -the scene is, “I smell apples.” It’s these two people who see each other in each other and are profoundly connected, whether, in whatever way that it is, it’s just a profound connection, you know, and so often we find boxes to put these connections in, you know, as humans, we want to make sense, we want to make logic of them, you know, which is, I think, um, why storytelling suffers in the representation, because you want to define what a thing is and kind of, um, the most beautiful things about some of the most special relationships is they, they're beyond what you can say they are, they’re beyond categorization, they are, you know...

Jaime: I, I, I definitely think that, although it wasn’t written in that way, I mean, if you actually go back and look at the footage, I’m saying “I love you” to, uh, uh, HG is saying “I love you” to Myka and Myka is is let-

Jo: I only think that’s what she was saying.

Jaime: -letting, letting it land.

Dana: Confirmation, folks! Confirmation, um, everyone!

Jo: In here. [points to head]

Dana: Write it in your vows, write it now in your vows!

Jo: Dana, you’re funny! [laughs]

Dana: Thank you!

Jaime: But wh- when, when did I come back and I was like, married to, what-

Dana: You, you weren't married, you were with a gentleman, and he had a, a young child and-

Jaime: And he was a bit of a drip as well!

Jo: And the house was very suburban, that’s all I remember was, I like walked into this house and I was like-

Jaime: That was, was that, I don’t really know the chronological, um, ordering, but like, I had like a ponytail, and I had a, possibly-

Jo: You were probably like driving a minivan.

Dana: You were teaching, you were teaching, weren’t you?

Jaime: Cause wasn’t I [indecipherable]

Jo: It’s okay, Jaime, I [indecipherable]

Dana: You were like in Phoenix or something.

Jaime: Yeah so, so what was that, after a bit I, so like “I smell apples” was the ending of my character, right? So like that, was that after a bit-

Dana: Right, and then you got rev- you were brought back-

Jaime: Right.

Dana: And then you kind of disappeared for a bit.

Jaime: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Dana: Yes. Yeah, um-

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: The, um, the, the, uh, the fans [laughs] were, um, confused by that, were like what?

Jaime: I d- I’m confused, I’m confused! [laughs]

Jo: Not just the fans, not just the fans.

Jaime: Well, I actually, um, I, I, I really want to go back and see that scene, um, I, I feel like you came to, I don’t, I was living in like suburbia-

Dana: Mhm.

Jaime: And, and didn’t you come to-

Jo: I don't remember.

Jaime: -the house and I, I think you came to-

Jo: I remember that horrible house though, because it was like, it… [makes disgusted face]

Jaime: It was so weird and I was like hello, I’m kind of like a completely different woman!

Jo: It was like very Stepford, I like, I walked in and, I don’t know why Myka was so accepting, I would’ve taken a baseball bat to the house, gonna be like, we’re leaving!

Jaime: So, so, so, so, I, so I, Jack, so Jack, Jack-

Jo: Get out of here, you drank the Kool Aid!

Jaime: I remember Jack was there and I was like, um, uh, oh, like this, like, like this doesn't work because of this and this doesn’t work because of that, and I was having a little, kind of like a creative difference with him, and, and he left for the day, he left for the day, and I really want to go back and see that s- that, that scene, because I remember I was asking him if I could, yeah, I know it’s, it says this but could I play it like this? And I do- I remember he didn’t want me to for the storyline, but I remember he left. [laughs] So I’d love to go back and see, I, I remember think- feeling like I was quite naughty, that I actually got away with it, but, uh-

Dana: Oh, I am loving all the subversive shit that was happening behind the scenes. [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah. [laughs]

Jo: Do you remember the park bench as well? Remember that scene, it was-

Jaime: Oh, yeah, a bench.

Jo: Wasn’t that a bench?

Jaime: Oh, that was a love scene, that was a love scene.

Jo: That was a, yeah, we really went for that one. [all laugh]

Jo: Everyone was like, what? And I’m like, well, we’re doing it. Might as well!

Jaime: [laughs] And we’re in like, Toronto, and everyone behind the camera, like, they’re very blokey, and it’s not in the script, and then they're like, “oh I didn’t, they’re, they’re, oh I didn’t see that coming!” [laughs]

Jo: They were like, what are you guys doing? We’re like, we’ll figure it out! [laughing]

Jaime: Exactly! We’re just doing our own thing. [laughs]

Dana: Oh, a little, a little mutiny, a little bit! [laughs] Well we, we, we’ve ha- we’ve had such incredible conversation so far, and I have so many fan questions for you, and if we were onstage everyone would get to come up to the mic-

Jaime: Aw.

Dana: -and ask you questions, but I do have a bunch of questions that were sent in, um, so I do want to get to your fans, because your fans are so integral to keeping this like-

Jo: That’s why we’re here.

Dana: -story alive. Uh, let’s see here. Let’s kick it off. Alright, so wellsbering wants to know, what personality traits do you share with your characters?

Jaime: Well I think, I think that, um, I, uh, definitely always get cast as the baddie for whatever reason, but then I think that, um, really the quirky mess that I, I, I morphed into is basically me. [all laugh]

Jo: I like that answer, that’s great. Um, I, uh, am very A-type when it comes to certain things, and Myka very much, I’m very like, flowy, Myka wa- didn’t flow, but there are certain parts of my life where I’m not flowy around. My work is one of them, writing is another one. Um, and I’m very afraid of letting people down. I think that’s why I've been, I was te- telling a lot of the people that I was talking to today that, you know, the reason I didn’t do this a lot when the show was on, I couldn’t understa- i was like, why do people wanna meet me? They're gonna meet me and be disappointed.

Dana: Ohhhh.

Jo: Yeah.

Dana: I think everyone thinks that though, I think that’s very common.

Jo: I think tha- yeah, I think that’s the human condition, right?

Dana: Yes.

Jo: Um, but, but I think Myka and I share that sort of reserve, you know, that thing where you’re like I don’t, no, don’t get too close. I’m like a Monet, stay back. [laughs]

Jaime: And I, I think that was part of the chemistry as well, it’s like, you have that kind of like, you know, protectio- protective-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -kind of like, edge. And so it’s like, if, I think that i- in a way, the gift that we had by it not being written for us is, if had been written we would’ve, the characters would’ve made each other, um, accessible to each other far too quickly. It was like the slow burn of, Myka could be quite prickly, and my character was completely messed up so it was kind of like, this kind of like energy between them where they were kind of like, you know, like working each other out, feeling each other out-

Jo: Is there? Is there an energy there?

Jaime: And then the laughs were well earned, and the smiles, and the deciding to work together was well earned. There was a, a lot of suspicion around each other, and when they opened up or they kind of let their guard down, it was hard earned, and and it was like, you know, something you would wanna rejoice at.

Jo: Yeah, aw, I love that.

Dana: Um, okay, so this is from mayberrycosplay, uh, you may remember mayberrycosplay, I believe one of them dressed as HG at a con, uh-

Jaime: Oh!

Dana: -but they wondered-

Jaime: I’ve seen a few HGs.

Dana: You’ve seen a few HGs.

Jaime: [laughs]

Dana: This is for Jo about, uh, Myka’s experience with ovarian cancer and, uh, like, how the awareness of this silent killer of women, like how that storyline, what that storyline meant to you and how it felt to portray that?

Jo: I was really nervous about that storyline, you know, anything that has affected people and their families and, and it’s always, I, you know, difficult territory to walk as an actor, especially in a show like Warehouse where there's so much happening on such a grand level that I’m like, are they going to pay attention to this? Are they going to really honor a storyline like this? was my concern, you know, like very often things like that are added like, uh, it’s like putting a robot arm on a story, and you're like oh, and by the way, there’s ovarian cancer! And so I was really, you know, concerned about showing up for that and, and, and and serving it in a way that people understood and, and could identify with that, you know, it’s such a catharsis, that’s what I think it’s supposed to be. Um, so it was, uh, I, the fans told me I pulled it off, that’s the only way that I know.

Dana: Well it meant a tremendous amount to, to mayberrycosplay and so that’s why they, they sent that in because it, it really affected them because of their own personal-

Jo: Yeah.

Dana: -you know, family journeys and such.

Jo: Well I’m so, so, thank you, I mean, I’m still wondering, you know, I worked really hard to make sure that was in there. We’ve all lost somebody to cancer, we all know what that’s like, we all know- I mean, I mean, I certainly have, to feel a lump and be like [does the Home Alone face] you know. I have two friends right now who are going through it, so I try to honor it in the best way. I- it’s one of the things that makes me want to be an actor, uh, that I think is so special about it is that you get to tell stories that people, it’s a group catharsis, you know, so I’m glad that, glad they think I, the only thing that, if they think I sh- I showed up then... [laughs] yes, good, good, good.

Dana: Um, let’s see here, cloxy813 wants to know what was your favorite, favorite scene to film together?

Jo: Probably the heaving bosoms scene. I was excited for the heaving bosoms scene, which was all like [mimes placing gun to forehead] kill me!

Jaime: [laughs]

Dana: Hashtag heaving bosoms scene.

Jo: It was so hot that day, I remember my tank top-

Jaime: So hot, oh my god, it was like-

Jo: It was like, my tank top, I would like look down and find, I was like, my boobs are out, um. [laughs] I just saw him sign, them sign, um.

Jaime: We were by that lake, I just wanted to dive in there. It was-

Jo: Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I loved, I loved, I loved doing that scene, I have to say. And, and the chess scene, I remember that.

Jaime: Oh yeah.

Jo: I remember that very well. Um, I really enjoyed my work with Jaime because I, as I said, you know, there’s not a lot of scenes that are two women just being women. It was so, it was like a breath of fresh air and so I, I wasn't, I was, uh, you know, a lot of the times Myka was there to witness Pete-

Jaime: Or, or, or to laugh, or to kind of laugh and sigh at his super funny jokes.

Jo: The funny jokes... um, so, so it was so nice to not ha- be in a scene from that point of view. So often women are are written as accessories-

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: You know, and, and this was a storyline where I felt like she was a whole person and I could be like a whole, real person, I didn't have to be like-

Jaime: I, I, I, I, I was on a show called Hustle and there was a character on it called Danny Blue, and he had all the funny lines, and one of the refrains that I had was “oh Danny. Oh Danny,” where every time he said something cheeky or naughty or a joke I’d go “oh Danny,” and I remember just being so excited to get the job, but then after awhile like me saying “oh Danny” really wore thin, especially as off camera I feel like I was more witty! [laughs] In that space I was much more funny, but all the funny was written for him, and I was going “oh Danny.” So when I came in I really, I kind of, um, you know, I knew the frustration of playing the, kind of, you, you know-

Jo: Straight man.

Dana: The “oh Danny.”

Jo: -if you were playing, right, right, the brainiac, uptight brainiac, and Pete had all the funny lines, so obviously we were in a lot of scenes with the rest of the cast and keeping the story going, but I felt as though all the character stuff that we had as, as women came from the scenes when we were on our own, and obviously that first scene with the grappler, um, you know, was, it was kind of the first scene where I’d been playing kind of like a little, kind of kind of like sneaky little looks and curiosity and fascination with this woman-

Dana: Yeah, we noticed.

Jaime: And, but, but, I, but, it wasn’t until the grappler scene that I thought that, that i was starting to get this, kind of, this chemistry going, and then there was a scene, do you remember the scene where I didn’t know how to work a computer or open it, it was like a, I was like a monkey-

Jo: Yeah [laughs] yeah.

Jaime: I was like a, it was like, I didn’t know what this is, we were-

Dana: Well, I mean in, in f- in fairness you had been in bronze for a long time.

Jaime: -we were in like a stu- a student room, a student's room, it was-

Jo: Yeah, we were at the college, we were at U of T.

Jaime: And, and. and we’d, it was the first time we’d deci- you’d, you’d kind of begrudgingly decided that we could work together, and HG was kind of a little thrilled, and you were a bit begrudging and-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: There was all, we, we still had to, ‘cause like, in sci-fi there’s a lot of storyline and exposition and kind of fantastical stuff, which is super fun, but actually as actors you really get excited about the character stuff and there was always just this great character stuff whenever we were on our own with a scene-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -um, because we didn’t have to worry so much about servicing all the other characters, we just serviced each other.

Dana: Well, you know, there are only two kinds of queer women. It is thrilling or begrudging, it’s one or the other. [all laugh]

Dana: They fit perfectly in there.

Jaime: I mean maybe that’s why it resonated so well, and maybe it was the reason it was so great, that it wasn’t written, because you had these two kind of like, kind of sli- slightly spiky kind of like flawed women, kind of like o- one, you know, one not particularly into the other at all, you know, so-

Jo: It was interesting, I still remember, I still remember receiving that energy and receiving that stuff and realizing, sort of plotting, cause I’m like, how long would it take Myka to figure this out?

Jaime: [laughs]

Jo: Seriously, I was like, cause, Joanne is not her,, I’m, you know, I’m wasn’t in the box that she, I always thought, Jack’s like, you’re exactly like that character, I’m nothing, I’m not- [laughs] I mean there’s a part of me that’s uptight but there's a part of me that’s most definitely not, so I was like how, and I really wanted to do the discovery of it within her, the like, this, the, this feeling started, and then her sort of, and M-Myka to me as a character as a whole was always somebody who was afraid, this is somebody who was always very scared of everything and presented themselves in this very [mimes acting stuffy and uptight] way because there was so much going on here [gestures to heart] and it was slow in the five seasons, I really wanted her to like, you know, relax and start laughing and not be so, and I was like, there’s a certain amount of wonder that was like-

Jaime: Endless wonder.

Jo: -ohhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhh, like you kind of see her, one of the things about that journey is you start to see her discover sort of herself and her own feeling surrounding that, which I thought was really special.

Jaime: And also you, um, you, you kind of ended up, you, you know, HG was kind of like a tricky character and she was always one step ahead, um for, that first season, but then when she started to fall apart, you were the one that kind of put her together, and then I felt like there was also this humor introduced, this lightness introduced to your character through the humor el- elements-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -and the surprise, which was, um, really lovely for your character.

Jo: Yeah, I, I think for m- for me, you know, it was a decision I made like in season two that I k- she had to evolve and grow and sort of, um, I couldn’t, I was, I was, I was like, I can’t keep coming to work and putting a giant stick up my ass [laughs] like we’re doing, like I need just to like expand her and go towards her relaxing and really finding, I think for her the big thing was always finding connection, you know, this-

Dana: Sure.

Jo: -we, we see in the beginning of the show is, it’s very cut off, very isolated, very like, and I, she lost her partner, that was, when I read that script, immediately I was like, this is someone who’s so scared of losing people again that she’s never gonna let anyone else in, and that was sort of like my understanding of her. And when Jaime came on, it was such a great way to explore that, Myka opening, you know, as feelings developed, her opening, you know-

Dana: Well, that, the growth, the character journey that both of your, your characters went on, I think that is what makes the show still so enduring to fans, like why they feel so connected to it, because we do, we saw that journey, you know, both of you had your own journeys to go on and you somehow managed to cross, cross paths, and it may not have ended the way fans had wanted it to, but we still go so much out of it.

Jo: I’m so glad.

Dana: I wish it was endgame, but what can I do?

Jaime: We, we, we need a spinoff show for Jo and I, we, we need a spinoff show.

Dana: Okay, yes, the spinoff, okay! You need to talk about that because-

Jaime: Who do we need to talk to to make that happen?

Dana: I got in a lot of trouble on Twitter yesterday for not asking a spinoff question, uh, what, like, what would a spinoff look like between between HG and Myka?

Jo: I think it would be have, to be now, which we-

Dana: Yeah.

Jo: And we’d have to get her, there’s no ponytails in this story, there’s no suburbs, there’s no fucking ponytails, um, no-

Jaime: I won- I won- I wonder if, um, it could be now, but, or, I wonder if I, I had to come in for a mission and then I actually pulled you back into my time, that might be an interesting way to turn it on its head.

Dana: Ooh, Jaime Murray, there we go!

Jaime: If we both had to go back-

Dana: I love me some period.

Jaime: -into my time or you know what made me think that [she does the Jaime Murray hair flip™] what I-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: I saw that, I saw that ne- The Nevers-

Jo: I miss that hair flip!

Jaime: -the, the, the a- the adverts for The Nevers on HBO, and I’m like that is the HG Wells spinoff right there, and I was like super fucked that I wasn’t in that, and then I read that Joss Whedon was a consultant and I was like [inaudible] really bad, so, but, anyway I think that that’s what we should do. I, I’m also obsessed with that time period.

Jo: I mean, yeah, and also like it was real, yeah-

Jaime: It was the beginning of ps-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -psychology, of like Tesla, of of like different thoughts, there was like, they were like spiritual, um, kind of scientists and atheism and there was all it this opportunity for change, which actually wasn’t taken, but it was actually, it’s super interesting right at the time, there was suffragettes-

Jo: Also a fish out of water for me would be so wacky, because I’m a fish out of water too, alright.

Dana: I’m curious if yo all saw the Saturday Night Live sketch the other, uh, last week with, uh, lesbian period drama-

Jaime: Oh!

Dana: -and how, how every lesbian, like anything that features lesbians now has to be- [laughs]

Jaime: Well have you e- have you ever-

Dana: -it’s like the Edwardian or, like the Edwardian times.

Jaime: Have you guys read Sarah Waters, do you know this?

Dana: Oh, of course!

Jaime: Like, so, and maybe that is actually what helped me get to HG Wells, but I loved those books when-

Dana: Oh, they’re so amazing.

Jaime: -I was growing up and I feel like we should make those o- we should remake one of those b- Jo, you’ve got to read those books, and then-

Jo: I’m writing it down! I’m taking notes!

Jaime: Oh, it’s amazing.

Dana: You two would be amazing in her most recent one.

Jaime: She writes these amazing Edwardian, Edwardian kind of wanton lust and then there’s like, like the vervain or whatever, that kind of drug that they used to take back then-

Jo: Opium?

Jaime: -so it’s like slightly, kind of like psychedelic, oh, it’s amazing, yeah, she’s amazing.

Dana: [laughs] Well, we unfortunately are out of time, and it’s been so much fun to talk to the two of you, and I, I love the love that you have for your characters, for your friendship, for the fans, uh, it’s, it’s so lovely to see, and thank you so much for making this work in your schedules, I know you’re both super busy doing your own projects, um, and I want to think Mark. Mark, you’re amazing, thank you so much for, for interpreting.

Jaime: Thank you, Mark!

Jo: Thank you, Mark!

Dana: Um, do you have anything you want to end with, to say to the, to the Bering lesbians out there?

Jaime: Well, first of all, I want to say that, um, if anyone sends me messages to, you know, pictures or anything that that Jo needs to see, I’ll make sure that Jo, Jo gets it, ‘cause she’s not on social media, and I’ll, I’ll share stuff with her so that she can kind of know the love from the community.

Dana: Yeah, great.

Jo: I think, um, I’m actually gonna try to put together a newsletter because I’m trying to get my shows made and I could use this community, you know, to help-

Dana: Oh, we will support you to the end! We will march off that cliff with you.

Jaime: I could help you make a Twitter account, just for our community.

Jo: I don’t wanna do Twitter, I wanna do a newsletter. [laughs] I don’t wanna, I don’t know how many characters are in it, but it’s not enough. [laughs]

Jaime: But Jo, Jo, you have to actually read some of the fanfiction. The fanfiction is epic.

Jo: I have a book that I got, somebody wrote a book-

Jaime: Unbelievable, oh my god.

Jo: -like a novel.

Jaime: They’re brilliant, these people are brilliant, like best fans ever.

Dana: There is some really incredible work out there.

Jaime: Well, do you want to-

Jo: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone, um, you know, I don’t do these very often, and just like, the outpouring of love, like just the connection, I really appreciate it, I’m so grateful, so thank you.

Jaime: Yeah, it’s such a beautiful community. I feel really proud to have been welcomed into it and, uh, very grateful.

Dana: Well, we’ll hope to see you another time, and thank you all who turned in to this panel. [Jaime blows kisses]

Jo: Thank you.

Jaime: Bye, guys.

Dana: Do you smell apples?

Jaime: Bye, Jo, I love you so much.

Jo: Do you smell apples? I love you too. [blows kiss] I’ll talk to you soon.

Jaime: Yes, I’ll see you later. Bye bye, darlings.

Jo: Bye.

[voltagesmutter]

Diphallia

Final three part smut series about Leviathan and his blessing.

Pairing: Leviathan x MC (F)

Fandom: Obey Me.

Warning: Diphallia (Double Penis), first time intercourse in relationship, double penetration.

Notes: A thank you to @theinariakuma​ for your help as always, I owe you so much.

Tagging: @darkfaerry, @otome-smut-queen, @0-miles-away, @rainbowscythe, @minteyedoll, @theshove, @thebestaqua32, @rensphilia, @beelsdessert, 

[Part1] [Part 2]

Part Three: Reunited [Final]

“Are you really sure about this?” His teeth taking her bottom lip, tugging gently as hands rested on the curve on her waist. Thumbs toying with the waistband of her skirt.

“God yes,” Running her tongue over his bottom lip as he had done the day he left. “Please, yes,”.

He tried to stifle the groan that left his throat as she took his hands in hers and slid them up her thighs beneath the flimsy material of her skirt. Wetness prodding against his fingers to feel the soaked folds bare as she wore no panties beneath it. 

Her hands let go of his as he pressed his thumb to her clit, circling in a motion he knew she loved whilst two fingers ran down her slit before pressing into her tight core. Her hips gyrated down as she rode his fingers, her hands hastily undoing his belt to free the mouth watering confinements. 

“Here?” He whispered, already knowing his answer from the way her hips dipped down against his hand. The wetness of her that soaked down beyond his knuckles and the soft moans that left her parted lips.

“I- I don’t think I can wait, I need you ,” Clenching over his fingers in time to her hand wrapping around his right cock. “But... but I can if you want too,”. He could sense the desperation and need in her voice. 

“I can’t either,” He groaned, head thrown back as her left hand took his left cock. Her hands pumping him in soft movements, savouring the groans that left him.

It was the dead of night, cramped in the back seat of his car with her straddling him. Her t-shirt pulled up so her naked breasts were exposed whilst Levi was still dressed in his uniform. The moonlight being the only source of light in the empty car-park. 

Leviathan had been the last to exit the boat due to his status, her waiting patiently by the side of his car after repeatedly telling Lucifer that she wanted to fetch him alone. Lips too busy locking in an exchange to share pleasantries, Levi pushing them both into the back of his car as she moved on top of him. 

“I-ah, I need you,” She whimpered, letting go of his left cock to grab his wrist, pulling his fingers out of her. He wrapped them around himself, letting the glistening stickiness of her arousal coax over his cock. Reaching to his side, she grabbed her purse, a bottle of lube being pulled out as she pumped thick squirts onto her hand. 

Levi watched and waited with bated breaths as she covered his left cock before rising above it and letting herself line against his tip. She was on birth-control to help her menstrual cycles, no need for a condom as she slowly lowered herself down. Her eyes opened wide as she clung to his uniform jacket, the toy she used had stretched her perfectly to take him but it could not prepare her for the feeling of the pulsing heat of him inside her. Moans filled the small space of the car as she worked into a slow rhythm, raising up before lowering down until her walls loosened the grip on him. His left hand fondled her breast as it bounced lightly in front of his face, watching the pleasure twist across her features. His right hand pumping his other cock in-time to her movement, occasionally grazing his fingers against the inner of her thigh. 

“W-what are you…” His face going red as she raised herself so only the tip was in her, her hand batting away his on his cock as she coaxed it in lube. She held his at the base as she positioned herself better, guiding him to her core as she once more lowered down. This time, taking both of him into her as she cried out. “I want- all… Oh god… all of you,”. Complete in awe at the situation as she took him, a feeling completely new and exhilarating to the both of them as she continued to rise up before lowering down. His eyes completely struck to watch both of his cocks disappear into her tight heat, inch by inch into the velvet folds of paradise. The feeling of being complete, of being so full she felt his cocks at the back of her throat as her stomach pooled with heat. The intensity of it grew as she moved down him more. It only took a few rolls of her hips before-

"F-fuck..." The whine left her lips as her hips stilled, back arching as she was pressed to his lap. Both of Levi's cocks buried deep inside her. Levi couldn't think as he watched her, felt her clench around both of him. His cheeks red at how quick she came. Fingers scratching into the material of his jacket, jaw-slack with her eyes tightly shut. Immense pleasure on a new level taking over her body, white tingling heat coursing through her body as she pulsed violently around him. 

The emotions of being back with each other, their first sexual intercourse together, the fullness of him inside her, all of it being too much and plunging her off the edge head first into a mind-blanking climax.

Head thrown back with one hand on her breast still whilst the other dug his nails into her hip, pushing himself up against her as his back curved slightly. Unable to hold back as a choked groan followed a few heavy gasps, heat flooding inside her. The intensity of her sudden orgasm being his undoing as he came without warning, shallowly thrusting as he rode out his and hers releases. Her forehead pressing against his as they both panted, unable to describe the feeling taking over them. Neither had been so undone so fast. Levi still adjusting to the feeling of all of him being buried inside her, head swimming with pleasure at the tight velvet of her heat gripping him. 

“A-are you okay?” Finally asking after catching his breath, pushing the strands of hair that had stuck to her face.

“Yeah- I.. I just need a minute,” She panted, eyes still shut as her head flopped against his shoulder. They rested in the silence of the fogged up car, exacerbated breaths being the only sound. Levi’s hands curling around her to keep warm, tracing shapes of all different manners up her back whilst the softness of his lips left fleeting butterfly kisses along her forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” A meek whisper paired with rounded doe eyes glancing up at him. 

“Whatever for?” Confusion took over as he cupped her cheek in his palm, his other hand pulling down her down her top to cover herself.

“I didn’t mean too… make it finish so quickly. I- I wanted it to be a surprise… special. And- and I ruined it-“ Her words trailing off at the end as he cut her off .

“Hey, hey no tears,” Cupping her other cheek and pulling her face close to his, “That was… amazing. Everything about you is amazing. Your perfect, that was perfect. I can’t believe you even did that, no one has ever done that before…”. Pressing a delicate kiss to her lips as his thumbs wiped away the fallen tears, “You could never ruin anything, your so perfect, so so perfect. I still can’t believe you, practically a living angel, wants to be with me,”. A light chuckle from him followed after his words. It was rare for him to speak in such depth, to wear his heart on his sleeve so boldly but when it came to her. He’d climb to highest peaks of heaven to declare how he felt her. She was his guiding light, his tiny piece of stardust, his normie.

“I love you,” She whispered between a sniffle, overwhelmed by his words. 

“I love you too,” Holding her closer in a tight embrace, neither wanting to the first to let go.

 -

“Promise me you won’t be too long,” Barely managed to be spoken as his tongue glided across hers. Her hands buried back in his hair as he pressed her into the side of the brick wall.

“If I had the choice I’d be right upstairs with you,” He groaned as he pulled away, a string of saliva splitting between their lips. Their clothes adjusted, the stain of mixed release from when he finally pulled out of her was covered by the long material of his jacket.

The minute they walked in, he was bombarded with greetings from his brothers. Despite the chaos, Levi loved his family and they loved him. However, his gaze was not on his brothers, but on the woman quietly sneaking up to the bedroom, seeing her lips mouth out, 'I'll be waiting' before she slipped up the stairs. 

Levi was growing impatient as he was getting asked questions from everyone. 

Lucifer asking if he made his reports. Mammon about any treasures. Asmo about his...scent? 

As his annoyance grew, he heard a small huff--he noticed it because that was where he wanted to go. Up to the young woman who'd stolen his hat before rushing up to his room. Impatience having gotten the best of her as well. 

"Sorry boys." She spoke as she moved between the small crowd. The shirt, his shirt, was a bit big on her, showing off the purple marking on the back of her neck as she latched onto his arms. "I'm going to have to steal the Admiral away now."

Bare legged and ready for more, the others became aware of the small human and her annoyance. A smug grin on Asmo’s face, missed by the others, as the scent that lingered heavily on Levi came flooding into the room each time she took a step.

Mammon's face went red as his jaw dropped open and Asmo waggled his brows at the woman with light giggles. Everyone else had the decency to be embarrassed and look away from her. 

Without another word, Levi took her hand and ushered out of the room, his body pressed to her back to shield her from the view of his brothers. Barely making up the stairs, stifles of giggles and lingering kisses kept them from moving. Until, reminding her of his strength, hoisting her up in the air with her legs around his waist as he carried her through the threshold of his room. One long, open mouthed kiss refusing to break apart as he kicked the door shut, placing her onto his bed as he climbed above her. 

Deft fingers popping the buttons on his shirt undone, leaving the almost transparent material upon her skin but with her torso exposed. His uniform shredded in a slow moving manner, both of them taking their time to admire the other in gentle caresses. Memorising every dimple, scale and bump upon the others skin, leaving a detailed map in their minds. 

“I love you,” Lips hovering above hers, honey eyes of amber baring into her soul. His weight gently pressing down onto her as his body covered hers from above, one arm pinning both her wrists above her head whilst the other softly rubbed down the curve of her side.

“I love you too,” Parting her legs a little more so he could fit snuggly between between them. Fitting together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. The softness of her thighs pressing up against his as he settled properly between her. His forehead pressed against her as she let out a soft sigh to feel his hand move down the curve of her hip and between her thighs to take his lengths into his hand.

“No matter what happens, you are mine and I am yours,” Amethyst diamonds on his neck shining, just like the one of the back of her neck. Neither of them sure what the future held, but neither cared as they had each other. Both loved one and other too much to give up anything without a fight. Something he never felt he was worthy of, but the way she stared up at him with trust in her eyes, the binding pact upon her skin and the rapid beating of her heart was enough to push his doubt aside.

❁ Kinktober (18+)

❁ Masterlist (18+)

❁ Smut Drabble, Prompts and Giveaway (18+)

[knchins]

Bad Day - Shinsou H.

Summary: Shinsou can always sense when you're having a bad day. Good thing he knows exactly how to cheer you up.

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Fem!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: AGED UP CHARACTERS, c*nnilingus/oral, v*ginal fingering/s3x, consensual quirk usage/mind control, squirting, comfort (w/o hurt), pet names, some praise k!nk, fluffy ending

Notes: This was for a request but I realize now the person is no longer following me. Probably should have checked that before writing this lmfao. Oh well, it happens and no hard feelings. I hope everyone enjoys this piece anyway.

 Hitoshi could always sense when you were having a bad day, even as he did surveillance around the beat that the agency had assigned him to that day. It was a nagging little voice in the back of his head telling him that something was wrong with his girl. Maybe you were stressed about work or got some bad news. Whatever it was, the profound bond between the two of you had him already knowing the best ways to cheer you up after he clocked out for the day.

 When he got home, he found you moping on the couch. He couldn’t help but smile at just how well he knew you. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

 You mumbled something inherently into the cushions of the couch, a mistake as he immediately used his quirk to have you sitting up. “You should really use your words, kitten.” He joked as he released you from his hold.

 You pouted at him softly, “Bad day.” You mumbled, “I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for the rest of the week.”

 He tutted as he kicked off his boots, “Can’t have you doing that now, can we?” His eyes locked in on you, looking like a wildcat that had just found his prey. “Want me to make you feel better?”

 The open invitation had you squirming already. You knew what he was asking for: further consent to give him control over your body. Of course sometimes things in the bedroom could be tricky when he used his quick. You couldn’t use a safe word or motion when he had control over your body, but that just meant that he had to keep your trust. Despite putting yourself in a situation that could potentially be dangerous with anyone else, a villain perhaps, you knew that you were completely safe in Shinsou’s care. Sometimes not having control over yourself was the best type of relief.

 “Yes, please,” You replied with a grateful look on your face as he once more overcame your mind with his quirk. Shinsou had you stand and walk into the bedroom as he followed with a satisfied smile on his face. He had you undress before laying down on your back.

 He peeled off his shirt and tugged down his pants so he was left in boxer briefs before settling between your legs. He looked up at you, again looking like a predator ready to pounce.

 He placed tender kisses on your inner left thigh as he forced you to watch him work. Your legs spread as far as they’d possibly go for him, putting your pussy on display for him. Despite all the things he could do with his quirk, making you aroused was not one of them. He had to do that naturally, which he didn’t mind at all. Warming you up was the best part of sex for him. It always had been.

 Now as he took two fingers to spread your labia apart, you could feel the subtle heat growing. The need for his touch, be it his fingers or his tongue. Anything against your clit right now would be heaven. Shinsou seemed to know this as he blew onto the nerve bundle to elicit a reaction.

 You only realized that he had released his hold on you when you were able to whine with need. Your hand went to the back of his head of unruly purple hair and forced his mouth to your lips, grinding on his face desperately as he chuckled into your folds.

 Of course, he could have easily punished you for doing such a dirty thing but he knew better than to be mean to you right now. Using his superior strength he lifted his head away from you, nose and chin dabbled with evidence of your arousal now. “And here I thought you could behave, Kitten. Are you ready to listen?”

 Another pout formed on your lips as you mumbled a response, “yes…” As soon as the words left your lips you were anchored to the bed again, but he did not have you move your hand. Instead he had you press his face back into you once more as he lapped at your neglected clit, rolling it with tongue and sucking on it hard enough to make tears spring to your eyes.

 Despite having control over you, he didn’t want you to simply just lay there. He enjoyed you being an active participant, even if he was the one making you do it. He had your hips rolling against him, nails digging into his scalp, and when he granted you the use of your mouth and vocal chords he had you moaning for him too.

 Shinsou easily slipped in two fingers into your hole, pumping them in and out at a feverish pace. He built a solid rhythm between the use of his body and yours. That tight coil of pleasure quickly wound itself in your lower belly, pressure building before finally releasing in one orgasmic rush of euphoria.

 He worked you through the high with kitten licks and gentle thrusts of his fingers until you were breathing at an even rate again. He pulled away from you long enough to take off his underwear and sit down on the bed with his back to the headboard. He then had you move to straddle him, hand on his shoulders for support as you hovered over his standing erection.

 His hands ran up and down your sides playfully, knowing fully well that you wanted nothing more than to be seated down on top of him with his cock bottomed out inside of you, but he held you there in place with a triumphant smirk on his face. “You still want me to have control, baby?” He asked, once again letting you go.

 Instead of answering you forced yourself downwards, allowing his tip to slip into your pussy at last. Shinsou was laughing at your impatience, giving a shallow thrust upwards as you sank down further. Your eyes rolled, head tilted back as your hips rocked slowly. “I’ll take that as a no.” He said, grabbing onto your hips to keep them steady as he began to pound up into you, knowing the exact pace that had you crying for more.

 “Hi-Hitoshi,” you moaned for him, the sound music to his ears. Your nails were digging into the flesh of his muscular shoulders, creating small half-moons. The small biting pain of your grip just spurring him on.

 “Look how good you’re taking my cock, kitten.” He cooed into your ear. “You’re just the perfect little cocksleeve, aren’t you? I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

 He adjusted his position, pushing you back onto your back as he moved forward on top of you, never ceasing his rhythm as he forced your knees back onto the bed, forcing you into a mating press. The new angle allowed his cock to brush against that special spot inside of you, stimulating it relentlessly.

 You cried out for him, toes curling as in increased his pace. Shinsou grunted, driving into you even harder as he felt himself nearing his climax. He looked down at you, “Do you trust me, kitten?”

 “Y-yes,” You choked out, allowing him to wash over your mind as everything seemed to just go numb. Your body was like a rag-doll, moving without any sort of restraint. He pressed his thumb to your engorged clit, rubbing a few small tight circles as he forced an orgasm upon you through both his quirk and his ministrations.

 A clear stream of ejaculate sprayed both of you, coating your lower abdomens as you continued to come undone. Your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first, your walls tightening around Shinsou’s cock in a way that had him cumming as well. Your cunt milked him for all he was worth as he panted and released your mind once more.

 “Do you feel better now, princess?” He asked as he pulled out of you and rested your legs down on the now soaked bed. You nodded your head, mind still fuzzy from the afterglow of such a powerful orgasm. “I’m gonna run a bath for you before cleaning this up, okay? Just lay here and rest for a moment.”

 Shinsou got off of the bed and went into the bathroom, running a hot bath with bubbles before helping you inside the tub. You sank down into the inviting water, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. “Can you join me?”

 He looked taken aback, not expecting you to be so in need of his touch still. Sometimes you preferred to be left alone in the bath, but on the rare occasion you did want company. He grinned, “Let me take care of the sheets first.”

 You nodded and waited a few minutes as he gathered the soiled sheets and threw them into the washing machine. He then came back into the bathroom and slid in behind you, pulling you to his chest and resting his head on top of yours. “Are you going to tell me what had you so down earlier?” He asked one you were both finally settled.

 You told him about the awful day you had, where everything just seemed to go wrong. He listened thoughtfully, never interrupting. He simply let you vent out your frustrations until there was nothing left to say. “Well, tomorrow is a new day.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’m sure it’ll turn out better. Just stay in the moment with me. We can watch a movie or something and pass out on the couch together.”

 “I love you, Hitoshi.” You mumbled appreciatively. He always knew how to cheer you up.

 He nuzzled his nose into your hair as he laughed softly, “I love you too, kitten.”

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[ryukoishida]

Qian Qiu/Thousand Autumns Fic: In which YWS experiences qi-deviation and SQ helps out.

Title: Down for You Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW Chapter: 1/1 Summary: [Post Canon] While experimenting with further improving Fundamental Records of Phoenix-Qilin, Yan Wushi suffered from sexually-driven qi deviation, which he tried to hide from Shen Qiao. When Shen Qiao finally realized what was wrong and offered to help, Yan Wushi felt conflicted. A/N: Another qi deviation fic? Yes. Let me join in the fun too please and thank.

---

Yan Wushi hated asking for help.

He viewed dependence on someone else as a weakness – a weakness that he as one of the strongest martial arts masters under the heavens had no need for. Even since he was young, he thrived on being on his own: with no other pupils to distract him, and no overbearing teacher to instruct him point-by-point, he was able to concentrate on his training and meditation in his own pace and direction that had taken him higher on the path to greatness and strength in the martial arts realm.

To Yan Wushi, other people were either nuisances for him to flick off like pestering flies or rivals worthy of challenging; friends were merely an unnecessary burden.

Taking on two disciples during the last few decades had not changed his perspective on this. He took on Bian Yanmei and Yu Shengyan knowing that their independent personalities would work well with his hands-off teaching method. And thankfully, both of his disciples turned out to be more than capable to handle themselves and sect affairs when he wasn’t around.

In short, Yan Wushi hated asking for help. He never saw the need, and so perhaps had forgotten how.

Subsequently, when Shen Qiao asked him what was wrong with the slightest hint of worry between his brows, out of pure habit, Yan Wushi smiled and replied lightly, if not a little breathlessly from the itching heat that was very slowly inching from his solar plexus to the rest of his body through his bloodstreams, “nothing, my beloved.”

Even speaking such few words proved to be challenging; his throat protested with a parched, sweet burn that could only be satiated with the touch of one person, and one person only.

But Yan Wushi didn’t dare ask. He’d already asked too much of Shen Qiao by being here with him, standing beside him as if they were equals.

Shen Qiao’s frown deepened a little, barely noticeable. The answer clearly didn’t satisfy the sect leader of Xuan Du, yet Shen Qiao was a patient man and was not one to force answers out of Yan Wushi until he knew his husband was ready to divulge. Heaving a soft sigh and aiming a knowing look at the other man, Shen Qiao only pressed his lips into a tight line and lowered his gaze back to the scroll he’d been reading.

It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced qi deviation. During the years in his training to reach the higher levels of the Fundamental Records of Phoenix-Qilin, Yan Wushi had suffered countless instances and variations of his qi running erratic in his meridian network – icy needles prickling his bones, bursting flames scorching his flesh, paralysis rendering him completely vulnerable – and he’d overcame each and every single one of them without anyone’s interference or assistance.

The slow-burning heat like molten lava crawling slowly up and down his limbs and prickling just beneath his skin was nothing he’d ever experienced before, but Yan Wushi was certain he could get through this troublesome phase with a few more days of meditation and rewiring of his meridian network.

“You will tell me if there is something wrong, will you not?” Shen Qiao’s gaze didn’t move away from the text on his scroll, but his voice was quiet and genuine with concern.

“Of course, Ah-Qiao.”

-

Three more days of silently suffering the gradually increasing discomfort of feverish sensitivity and the progressively difficulty of ignoring the pulsing desire running wild within his body that no meditation nor long soaks in cold water could suppress, Yan Wushi was desperate.

He wouldn’t allow his disciples or other servants near him for the last few days, and to Shen Qiao’s surprise, he’d even turned his own husband away, muttering something along the lines of not wishing to pass whatever illness he had to his beloved partner. Given any other day, Shen Qiao would have left him be, but Yan Wushi’s behavior had been too uncharacteristic even for the man’s eccentric personality, and that was the moment when the sect leader of Xuan Du couldn’t pretend to be oblivious anymore.

“Yan-zongzhu…”

After knocking on the door of their shared bedchamber in Yuxu Pavilion and receiving no reply, Shen Qiao gingerly opened the door and stepped in. Night had already fallen hours ago and the candles were burning low, the orange glow of the flames flickering when the evening breeze slipped in through the gap of the open door before stilling again.

“Yan-zongzhu?” Shen Qiao tried again, tone soft, making his way to the side of the bed, where Yan Wushi was lying on his back, blankets kicked messily to the side and clothing haphazardly loosened in a state of disarray. His breathing was shallow and harsh, skin flushed and streaked with sweat, exposed chest rising and falling in an abnormal rate that made Shen Qiao rushed the last few steps to the bed and reached out for his companion’s wrist.

He rested two fingers against Yan Wushi’s pulse point, attempting to get a reading, but before he could accurately diagnose the man’s condition, Yan Wushi pulled his arm away with a groan.

“Ah-Qiao…” Yan Wushi croaked out, his voice much hoarser and lower than usual from how dry the inside of his mouth was, and he cleared his throat, eyes fluttering open and head turning slightly to look at Shen Qiao. His pupils were dilated so that only a thin ring of red-brown could be seen. “As much as I appreciate your concern, there really is nothing for you to worry about.”

“Yan Wushi!” Shen Qiao’s patience was running thin, and Yan Wushi could tell because he was calling him by his full name. With quick reflexes, Shen Qiao caught his husband’s wrist again, this time using a bit more force to keep him in place as he tried to read his pulse once more. The palpitation was strangely rapid and inconsistent, with a rhythm that he wasn’t familiar with from any medical books he’d read.

Brows gathering into a deeper frown and lips tightening into a straight line, Shen Qiao placed his palm on the other man’s forehead, and was shocked at the burning temperature of his skin there. He continued his examination, gently feeling his cheek with the back of his hand, and then slender fingers were on the side of his neck – a man’s most vulnerable point, easily grasped and snapped into pieces – but Yan Wushi only craved more, Shen Qiao’s cool fingertips and innocent touches merely serving to ignite whatever was flaring wildly inside his body.

Shen Qiao detected a change in Yan Wushi’s breathing, and simply deduced that as being his condition worsening. He quickened his examination, his hand briefly resting on Yan Wushi’s sternum before sliding lower to his solar plexus, all the while focusing his own qi to the center of his palm to see if he could at least alleviate some of the discomfort and ease the stranded qi into flowing again.

“Hah…!” Yan Wushi jerked as the qi from Shen Qiao’s palm entered through his skin and into his meridian network. It had felt… good. Too good, in fact, that he was afraid he might lose control of himself if he didn’t stop what his dear husband was doing right now.  

In his current weakened state, Yan Wushi had no real strength to push back, and so he resorted to his infamous verbal skills. Lifting up his shuddering arm, he covered the back of Shen Qiao’s hand, which was still laying lightly across his husband’s stomach, with his own, interlaced their fingers together and pulled that pale jade hand towards his lips, murmuring against his warm skin in a low voice.

“Ah-Qiao… my good Ah-Qiao… do not be angry with me,” Yan Wushi was using his best impression of an overly-affectionate cat. His saccharine tone shouldn’t be so effective on Shen Qiao, but when it was paired with the teary-eyed gaze, flushed cheeks, and strands of star-white hair stuck to his temple, Shen Qiao felt the initial heat of his frustration simmered away until nothing but a soft smoldering tenderness was left.

Shen Qiao sighed but allowed Yan Wushi to keep holding his hand.

“Yan-lang, I am not angry, but I wish you would tell me right away when something like this happen. If you were to…” Shen Qiao’s mind flashed to the memory of Yan Wushi’s lifeless body lying on the cold, hard ground after his last fight with Hulugu, and he squeezed his eyes close, shaking his head viciously to tear himself away from that nightmarish image. “No, you cannot do that to me again. Promise me that you will not hide yourself like this next time you experience another instance of qi-deviation, or anything else.”

“Call me that again, and I will promise you anything you want.”

“Call you…?” Shen Qiao realized belatedly that he’d been addressing Yan Wushi with the pet name he only used sparingly during their most intimate moments, and he felt his face heating up from embarrassment. “Yan Wushi, this is a serious issue. If you continue to jest around as if your life is a joke —”

“How could I treat my own life as a joke when there is someone who care so deeply for me?” Yan Wushi lightly kissed the back of Shen Qiao’s hand before smiling up at him, the expression so indulgent and gentle – so unlike the usual bold and wolfish grin – that it took all of Shen Qiao’s self-control to not combust on the spot.

“Y-Yan-lang, that is beside the point.”

Despite his cold words, Shen Qiao conceded but quickly continued as if that little scene didn’t happen, “it seems like the flow of your qi is stuck somewhere along the Conception Vessel, probably between the Huiyin point and Qihai point, but it is better if we have a physician take a look—”

“Absolutely not,” Yan Wushi was adamant about this.

“Yan-lang, now is not the time to be headstrong,” Shen Qiao tried to persuade his partner. “Who knows what will happen if we do not act quickly to resolve the qi deviation?”

“This venerable one will not let anyone else touch me other than you.”

“I do not know how to help you…” Shen Qiao said, powerless against the demonic sovereign when he was acting so childishly, “perhaps with acupuncture…?”  

“I do,” Yan Wushi said quickly, “and it definitely does not involve needles.”

He internally shuddered at the thought of those sharp, silver, pointy metal bits entering his acupressure points.

“All right,” Shen Qiao acquiesced with a resigned sigh, “will you at least tell me how, then?”

“It is quite simple, really,” one corner of Yan Wushi’s lips curved up into a slight grin, and Shen Qiao suddenly had a bad feeling about this, “I just need Ah-Qiao to enter me and climax inside me while at the same time stimulate a few specific acupressure points on my body with your qi.”

“… pardon me?”

It was solely thanks to Shen Qiao’s strict upbringing that he didn’t instantly slap Yan Wushi across the face and leave.

Rather than repeating himself – because he was sure that Shen Qiao had heard exactly what he’d said – Yan Wushi guided his husband’s hand from his mouth and southward, past his chest and stomach, and finally let it rest on his crotch, which, despite the layers of clothing, was quite obviously stirring in interest, as it had been for the past few days no matter how many times Yan Wushi had tried to resolve this problem by himself.

“Please, Ah-Qiao, will you not help your poor husband out? You know I do not beg easily, but for you…” Yan Wushi grinded up against Shen Qiao’s palm, and even though that slight friction was not nearly enough to quench his yearning, knowing that it was Shen Qiao who was touching him down there was sufficient to make the demonic sovereign bite his lower lip to dampen the whimper that was slipping out prettily. His body trembled with want, aching to be touched; he had to internally force his own frame to remain in place instead of springing up like a predator to trap Shen Qiao within his arms.  

“Yan-lang, you know you never have to plead with me if you truly need help, right?” Shen Qiao was not used to seeing this side of Yan Wushi. Even as young as Xie Ling and as mellow as Ah-Yan were, none of his split personalities had ever acted like this. From Yan Wushi’s own perspective, this kind of behavior was unbecoming, a display of weakness, a sign of disgrace, and so he would never have allowed himself to fall into this pathetic state.

Shen Qiao’s fingers were twitching from the heat emanating from Yan Wushi’s erection, so it was a wonder he was able to inquire in a calm tone, “but are you certain that this is the only way to redirect your qi?”

“My good Ah-Qiao, please… I… I need you to touch me or I am literally going to die.”

Now Yan Wushi was being rather dramatic, and they both knew it. Even Shen Qiao was trying hard not to crack a smile at that as Yan Wushi continued his lament.

“Is that what you want? Do you want your husband to die from something as ridiculous as sexually-driven qi deviation?”

“For someone who is supposedly suffering, Yan-zongzhu sure runs his mouth too much,” Shen Qiao’s inhibition had melted away, and his worry seemed to have alleviated somewhat as well, after seeing that Yan Wushi was still capable of his melodramatic antics. “Shall I put your mouth to better use?”

Shen Qiao allowed himself to be pulled forward and down until their noses were nuzzling against each other’s, their breaths mingling hotly while the sect leader of Xuan Du ran his fingers back up to his exposed chest, splaying his hand against the patch of warm skin there. Feeling his husband’s heart thrumming beneath his fingertips, Shen Qiao’s own chest felt full of emotions that were impossible to put into words, so he didn’t try – not when he could communicate those feelings through his actions.

“And what does Shen-zhangjiao suggest?” Yan Wushi whispered, each word branding against the other man’s lips like the sweetest poison.

Shen Qiao wordlessly closed the distance between them, first with a chaste kiss of lips gently touching, and then almost instantly flared into a wet, messy clashing of mouths, teeth, and tongues initiated by Yan Wushi. Before long, however, even the demonic sovereign was feeling the radiating waves of heat and languor struck his muscles once more, and Shen Qiao was able to regain control by trapping Yan Wushi’s wrists to his sides while he counterattacked with biting kisses and soothing licks along the side of his neck.

Red and violet bruises bloomed like sweet fragrant alyssum blossoms where Shen Qiao’s mouth roamed, and the mere thought of the pure and virtuous Shen-zhangjiao of Xuan Du Sect marking him thus was making Yan Wushi harder than ever, and he made sure to let Shen Qiao know by releasing needy, broken moans of “Ah-Qiao” and “hurry”.

Soon enough, Shen Qiao had Yan Wushi’s robes removed and pants halfway tangled down his muscular legs, and while Shen Qiao had been imbued with an intoxicating sense of new-found confidence that had allowed him to initiate the kiss, yet as soon as he had laid bare Yan Wushi, his eyes roaming along the expanse of tanned skin and taut muscles aching to be touched and marred, the Daoist found himself hesitating once more.

He’d been kissing his way down his husband’s hipbone and the junction between his hip and thigh, and Shen Qiao could smell the musk of Yan Wushi’s arousal, which only served to make his cheeks heat up more. He froze at the sight of his husband’s swollen and dripping cock.

“You know…” Shen Qiao started, gaze downcast, “I have never done this before, so let me know if you feel any discomfort or pain…”

As if Yan Wushi needed that reminder.

He’d been trying so hard to maintain the last thread of self-control he had, too, and one innocent comment from his dear husband had completely shattered what sanity remained inside of him.

“My good Ah-Qiao,” Yan Wushi breathed out, reaching for the other man’s hands, and their fingers interlaced as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “no matter what you do to me, I am certain that I will have nothing but praises for you.”

Shen Qiao shook his head once and laughed softly, the sound and his expression so tender that Yan Wushi couldn’t help but squeeze his fingers tighter before guiding those same calloused hands to where Yan Wushi needed him to touch.

His cock was slick and hot – almost abnormally so, which Shen Qiao supposed made sense since this was a symptom of qi deviation – but it didn’t diminish the fact that it was big, the shine of pre-cum drooling from the tip simultaneously tempting and intimidating.

Shen Qiao swallowed at the sight despite Yan Wushi’s generous words, and tentatively, he licked the tip and contemplated the responsive shudder that ran up Yan Wushi’s spine.

A good sign, Shen Qiao mused quietly to himself, and then he did it again – small, experimental flicks of his tongue against the velvety skin of the head as if he was tasting a new flavor of candy. Shen Qiao decided he rather liked it, especially the interesting reactions his gesture seemed to be kindling in Yan Wushi, the way he hissed impatiently and tangling his fingers into Shen Qiao’s hair, tugging to beg wordlessly.

Encouraged by his husband’s response, Shen Qiao took it a step further, and envelope the entire head into the moist cavern of his mouth, first delicately wrapping his lips around the tip and taking care to not let his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin there, then slowly swallowing Yan Wushi centimeter by centimeter until he found it hard to breath and his jaw began to ach.

“Gods, Ah-Qiao, you are going to be the death of me…” Yan Wushi murmured shakily, his hand cradling the back of Shen Qiao’s head gently while fingers idly played with his frost green hair ribbon. The cold silk felt like cooling water in the springtime against his fingertips, and it reminded Yan Wushi of that one night when he used that exact hair ribbon to tie Shen Qiao’s wrists while he had his way with him.

The memories didn’t serve him well, for a stream of unfathomable heat and prickling desire blazed down his meridian network and made his cock twitch in Shen Qiao’s mouth.

Shen Qiao’s eyes flickered up to check on his husband, and noticed that Yan Wushi had one arm thrown across his face in an attempt to muffle his moans. His hazel eyes darkened, and he resumed to sucking; where his mouth couldn’t reach, Shen Qiao made use of his hand at the base, pumping in time with the movement of his mouth and tongue and sliding wetly up and down Yan Wushi’s length.

Feeling his thighs beginning to shake at the anticipation of release, Shen Qiao pulled up but his hand didn’t let up its pace. He peppered contrastingly soft kisses along the inside of Yan Wushi’s thigh while his hand tugged in a tempo that was verging on brutal, but that was exactly what Yan Wushi needed.

It didn’t take long for him to climax into Shen Qiao’s hand with a choked groan, and strands of white landed on his own abdomen as well as on his husband’s still clean and meticulous robes.

“W-was that all right?” Shen Qiao asked, uncertainty tinting his hoarse whisper as he climbed back up to look at Yan Wushi properly. He was about to measure the man’s pulse again when he saw tear streaks down Yan Wushi’s cheeks. Heart seized up in a panic, he quickly dabbed the wetness away with his sleeve, a trail of apologies ready on his tongue.

Yan Wushi caught his forearm and planted a small kiss on the inside of his wrist.

“It was more than all right,” Yan Wushi assured him with a languid smile, releasing Shen Qiao’s hand and raising his arm up to brush his thumb against the other man’s red and abused lower lip, the colour so mesmerizing that he couldn’t help but pull Shen Qiao down for a brief but dirty, open-mouthed kiss before murmuring against his ear once they both ran out of air, “in fact, I think I am already starting to feel better, but you know this husband needs more, right?”

Shen Qiao nodded, biting his lip. After easing off of Yan Wushi’s body, he shrugged off his soiled outer robe and moved to retrieve the ceramic vial that he knew his husband kept inside a hidden compartment by the side of their bed. He fumbled with the stopper until it popped out, and he shakily poured out a significant amount of carrageenan extract into his hand.

The texture of it was a little off-putting – a sticky gel-like consistency that reminded him of… another kind of bodily fluid – but he wanted to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt Yan Wushi in the process. After all, Shen Qiao himself wasn’t very experienced, and though this whole ordeal was nothing but a medical treatment, the sect leader of Xuan Du still needed to ensure that Yan Wushi would not be wounded further.

“You will tell me if I am hurting you, will you not?”

The concern in his eyes was genuine. Everything about Shen Qiao was genuine, and Yan Wushi used to think this kind of naturally honest nature was the trait of an absolute fool, yet here he was, in love with a so-called fool.

Maybe he was the one who’d become a fool after all this time.

He didn’t have enough time to contemplate any further than that, because Shen Qiao was kissing him on the mouth when he didn’t answer.

“Yan-lang?”

Yan Wushi couldn’t find it in himself to tease his husband this time, so with equal sincerity, he said, “I will, Ah-Qiao.”

“Good,” Shen Qiao nodded with a small satisfied smile.

With his fingers slicked up with lubricant, Shen Qiao once again returned his attention to his present task. He knelt between Yan Wushi’s legs, which he had opened up slightly wider to more easily accommodate his partner, and carefully slipped the tip of his middle finger into Yan Wushi’s puckered hole.

Unaccustomed to the strange sensation down there, Yan Wushi instinctively wanted to escape from the touch by closing his legs together, but Shen Qiao steadied him with his other hand by firmly pushing against his thigh while pushing his finger further in until the entire digit was swallowed up by the warm tightness.

“Nnng… Ah-Qiao… it feels odd…” Yan Wushi exhaled with a tremulous murmur.

“Odd in a good way or in a bad way?” Shen Qiao asked, stilling his motion and lifting his gaze back up to Yan Wushi’s face to observe his expression.  

“Undetermined,” Yan Wushi decided, letting his eyes fall close and breathing out to try to relax his body. The unyielding roiling waves of gnawing desire had subsided a little after he’d climaxed earlier, but with his qi still stuck, that unwelcoming stream of energy was beginning to gather at the pit of his stomach all too soon, causing his cock to stir again even though he hadn’t been touched there yet.

“Hm,” Shen Qiao only hummed thoughtfully. He opted to continue for now.

He pumped his finger in and out a few times to allow Yan Wushi to get used to the sensation before he increased the pace and added a second finger, crooking them in a shallow angle to find the correct acupressure points. To Shen Qiao’s delight, the gesture caused Yan Wushi’s breathing to quicken, his chest rising and falling in tormented groans. His cock lengthened and swelled with blood, and was soon back to its full strength.

“Haaah… Ah-Qiao, keep going…”

The fingering had felt good – so damn good – even though Shen Qiao claimed that he was inexperienced. He must have picked up some skills from Yan Wushi during their previous intimate nights, for after the early moment of embarrassment and hesitation, the way he manipulated Yan Wushi’s body with his slender and calloused fingers had become proficient and deadly.

“I am going to start transferring my qi through your acupoints starting from the Qugu point,” Shen Qiao said, trying to tear his eyes away from Yan Wushi’s debauched expression –  silvery-white and ink-black hair sticking to his sweat-slicked skin, eyes squeezed close, head craned back to expose the strong line of his throat, and the occasional moans slipping past his throat – but as he shifted his gaze back to where his fingers were, still buried deep within Yan Wushi’s hole, which had turned dusty pink and glistening from the extract around the ridge, Shen Qiao was starting to question his ability to carry on this operation.

“W-what?”

The feverish desire had reached its new height so that Yan Wushi was unable to think clearly. He was only vaguely aware that Shen Qiao said something and that he needed something much bigger and thicker to fill the void that was verging on swallowing his whole being.

“Never mind,” Shen Qiao said and took a deep breath to regain focus. With attentive eyes and precise execution, Shen Qiao directed the qi inside of his own body so that it flowed in a gradual stream towards the tips of his middle and ring fingers; when he grazed upwards, he aimed the flow of qi to the Qugu point, which was physically the closest to where his fingertips were.

From there, Shen Qiao pushed his qi forward, testing the give of the entire trail of Conception Vessel before forcing it through to the next acupoint, up Zhongji and pierced through to Guanyuan.

“Yan-lang, how do you feel?”

Yan Wushi had been chillingly quiet since Shen Qiao had started transferring his own qi into his husband’s body, and his abnormal silence made the Daoist thought that maybe the demonic sovereign was rejecting his qi due to their different martial arts origins.  

“Ah-Qiao…” he gasped, eyes hooded and the blood-red of his irises just a thin ring from his fully dilated pupils, “too… too much…”

Shen Qiao’s heart thudded against his ribcage at how wrecked Yan Wushi sounded. He’d never seen the man like this, even when he was lost in the deepest end of pleasure, and somewhere buried, hidden, and shaped by years of Daoist teachings and morals was an instinctive part of Shen Qiao that had woken up from seeing this vulnerable, intimate side of the usually self-assured and strong Yan Wushi, the cold, ruthless, selfish leader of Huan Yue Sect.

“Yan-lang,” Shen Qiao caressed his husband’s cheek in comfort, wiping away a stray tear that’d escaped his eyes, “we are almost there, just hold on for Ah-Qiao’s sake. Will you do that for me?”

Yan Wushi closed his eyes and shook his head, and his body seemed to suddenly stop being pliant as well.

Shen Qiao’s qi couldn’t advance further; if he kept forcing it, he might risk injuring the rest of Yan Wushi’s meridian system, and that was the last thing Shen Qiao wanted.

“All right, all right,” Shen Qiao cooed, gently taking his fingers out.

Yan Wushi sighed out with a shuddering breath, half in relief and half in lament at the dizzying empty feeling.

If this method didn’t work, he might need to find another way. Shen Qiao was nothing if not resourceful.

“Ah-Qiao, I want you…” Yan Wushi grasped Shen Qiao’s right hand and placed it pointedly against his husband’s clothed arousal, the fabric of which had already been darkened from spots of precum.

“!”

Shen Qiao shuddered when Yan Wushi weakly squeezed his cock through his trousers.

Well, Yan Wushi never had been one to beat around the bush, so Shen Qiao didn’t know what he’d been expecting.

“I —” Shen Qiao paused. Verbally expressing his affection for his husband still didn’t come easily to him, but there were rare moments like this that he found it to be the simplest, most natural thing to do. “I want you, too, Yan-lang.”

The candles were burning dangerously low, and a few had already extinguished, casting the room deeper into the night.

After removing the rest of his clothing, Shen Qiao folded the blanket into a make-shift cushion and placed it under his partner’s lower back before settling back between Yan Wushi’s legs. With one hand wrapped around Yan Wushi’s waist to steady him and the other gently parting the two mounds of firm muscles to reveal the slightly swollen hole, Shen Qiao lined himself up.

All this time, he’d been so focused on mending Yan Wushi’s meridian network that he’d been neglecting his own desire, and now that it’d been freed from the restraint of his undergarment, it was clear that Shen Qiao had been holding back.

He started slow – for both Yan Wushi and his own sanity.  

The tip went in easily enough from the ample preparation and Shen Qiao’s own precum lubricating the first part of the entry. The velvet heat that instantly surrounded him was intoxicating, and if Shen Qiao had less self-control, he’d have immediately slammed himself in as deep and hard as he could, but in the end, he managed to reign in that flaring craving that was slowly but surely burning his logic and patience into ashes.

Resisting the urge to thrust all the way in took all of Shen Qiao’s willpower; his knuckles turned white from how hard he was grasping onto Yan Wushi’s hips, which would surely leave bruises that the demonic sovereign would later smugly show his embarrassed husband.

Little by little, Shen Qiao pushed himself into that addictive and delicious heat, all the time still observing for any ailing changes in Yan Wushi’s body. If anything, it seemed having Shen Qiao slowly fucking himself into him only made him more vocal.

“D-do not stop, please… feels good…” Yan Wushi wasn’t helping a bit as he wrapped his legs tightly around Shen Qiao’s waist, imploring for him to go deeper.

Seeing that he wasn’t causing his partner any discomfort, Shen Qiao steeled himself and plunged all the way in until he was fully sheathed. He panted harshly into Yan Wushi’s mouth, who slipped his tongue sloppily into the offered mouth and teased Shen Qiao with filthy kisses that had them both breathing hard.

Shen Qiao finally lost that last strand of calm composure. Foreheads touching, eyes clouded by ravenous hunger, and forearms caging Yan Wushi’s yearning body between his arms, Shen Qiao pulled out slightly and thrusted back in, with enough force to make Yan Wushi gasp and scrambling for purchase.

He did it again and again, skin slapping against skin, the sound seeming to resonate within the walls of their sacred bedchamber, each time more urgent and more fervent than the last.

“Mnnn…. Fuck, Ah-Qiao feels so good inside me…”

“Haah… ah… do you feel no shame, Yan-zongzhu?” Shen Qiao nuzzled the side of Yan Wushi’s neck and kissed him roughly there, leaving more small bruises and teeth marks that wouldn’t fade for days.

“Aww… what happened to calling me ‘Yan-lang’?” Yan Wushi chuckled, placing one hand against the back of Shen Qiao’s head. A soft tug on the ribbon loosened the elegant twist of hair that cascaded over Shen Qiao’s pale shoulders like ink splashing on canvas. “Did I perhaps unknowingly anger Ah-Qiao?”

Shen Qiao paused, leaving only the tip of his cock inside his partner, which instantly drove Yan Wushi to buckle his hips upward in a sorry endeavor to tempt Shen Qiao into moving. He gave Yan Wushi a pointed glare, though the intended effect was dampened by the blush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck and chest and the fact that he was, in fact, fucking Yan Wushi into their bed.

“You know what you did,” Shen Qiao mumbled, finding himself impossible to be truly mad at him in this current situation.

“Hmm…” Yan Wushi scattered soft kisses on the other man’s forehead, eyelids, the bridge of his nose, and finally licking the shell of his ear, he continued with a grin, “can it be that Ah-Qiao is flustered by what I said?”

“There is no need for you to be using such foul and explicit language,” Shen Qiao argued, turning his head away, but it only gave Yan Wushi the perfect angle to kiss down his neck and nibble his collarbone.

“Oh, but there is a need,” Yan Wushi countered, tightening his legs around Shen Qiao’s waist so that he was dragged back into where Yan Wushi needed him to be. The fullness that had at first felt overwhelming was now a welcoming sensation, and he could feel the few acupoints that Shen Qiao had sent his qi through had been cleared, but there were still two spots that he knew needed to be unclogged before his own torrent of qi could flow smoothly and safely.  “I need to tell Ah-Qiao how well he had been treating this husband, do I not? And I cannot find the adequate language unless I am using those exact words. Is there something wrong with that? Does Ah-Qiao not like it when I give you compliments?”

“I-It is not like that!”

There was no use having a proper discussion with Yan Wushi’s twisted sense of logic, so Shen Qiao didn’t try to. Instead, he returned to his previous act, except this time he was thrusting in with more force and fire, almost like he was wordlessly taking his own personal vengeance against Yan Wushi’s body.

“Haaah… Ah-Qiao!” Yan Wushi groaned, casting a half-hearted accusatory glare at the other man when Shen Qiao hit the spot that made him see stars and his hole contract around his husband’s length. “… just because… just because you cannot see yourself winning the argument against this venerable one does not mean you should stoop to such low m— nnnng!” Distracted by the sudden onslaught of flickering flames licking down his back and in the pit of his stomach, Yan Wushi hadn’t noticed the fingers placed strategically across his abdomen until he felt a hot stream of foreign qi invaded his meridian network – just as Shen Qiao’s cock was sweetly, torturously invading his inside.

The pleasure that bloomed and erupted from the coil seated deep within him was blinding; it was wonderful and terrifying, devastating yet cherished. Yan Wushi hardly noticed Shen Qiao’s climax when he was still convulsing and quivering from his own release; thick ropes of milky white cum landed and splattered messily on his own chest and tainted Shen Qiao’s unmarred skin.  

His mind was blissfully blank for a brief moment while he waited for Shen Qiao to come down from his high. He sensed more than knew that he was filled to the brim with his husband’s seed, and that the last acupoints had been broached to allow his qi to flow effortlessly again.

The last candle burned out, and the room sank into complete darkness except for the hint of watery light from the crescent moon outside.

“Yan-lang?” Shen Qiao wanted to pull out but an arm thrown carelessly around his lower back stopped him from doing so. He heaved a soft sigh but remained in Yan Wushi’s embrace, laying his head against his husband’s chest despite the sticky, sweaty mess they’d made of each other.

“Hmm?” his voice rumbled in the dark, like the earth trembling beneath Shen Qiao’s feet, the sound irritatingly lackadaisical yet strangely kept his heart and mind at peace.

“Your meridian network…?”

“Thanks to Ah-Qiao’s magnificent medical skills, I believe my qi deviation has been treated and my meridian network perfectly restored,” Yan Wushi said, playing with a strand of Shen Qiao’s hair.

Shen Qiao exhaled in relief.

“Though to be certain that it is entirely healed, we might need to have the same treatment performed again, under Shen-zhangjiao’s skillful practice, of course.”

“Yan Wushi!”

Shen Qiao slapped him on the bicep, which only made Yan Wushi snicker harder.

When his laughter finally died down, and he could hear Shen Qiao’s breathing mellowing, Yan Wushi combed his fingers soothingly through his husband’s slightly tangled locks and murmured against the crown of his head.

“Shen Qiao.”

“Hmm?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Ah-Qiao.”

Shen Qiao opened his eyes blearily and pushed himself up just enough to look at Yan Wushi, who was gazing at him with bright eyes and a tender smile.

“Yes?”

A bit of his lucidity returned at the sight of Yan Wushi’s expression.

“I promise you,” Yan Wushi held onto Shen Qiao’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, “from this day on, I promise that no matter what kind of problems I may encounter, Ah-Qiao will be the first to know. In return, will you promise to stay by this venerable one’s side no matter what may become of me?”

“Silly Yan-lang,” Shen Qiao pecked him lightly on the forehead before making himself comfortable on Yan Wushi’s chest again, “always.”

[philliamwrites]

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas (Mochizuki Jun)

Pairing: Noé/Vanitas

Tags: #vanitas pines for noé, #implied/referenced past rape/non-con, #implied/referenced past childe abuse, #blood and unjury, #angst and feels, #forehead kisses

Words: 3.7k

Summary: Vanitas can’t sleep so he does the only other thing he’s good at besides curing vampires from the curse: harass Noé. It escalates royally and doesn’t end good. No one is surprised.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

   Moonlight casts slim, silver lines on Noé’s face.

  Sitting on the windowsill, Vanitas can see the slow and steady rise of Noé’s chest, a constant rhythm speaking of life. How he has survived until today is still a wonder to Vanitas. Only a few feet separate him from the sleeping, defenceless body—a body he knows all too well capable of pulling tense like a bowstring when ready to strike; an animal equipped with lethal tools to hunt and destroy. But Noé is a paradox of black and white, a pacifist at heart that opens up too easily, too quick. Why else would he be interested in someone like Vanitas?

    Their conversation at the top of the bell tower is still ringing all too clear in his head, a memory he’d rather strip from his mind and drop in the deepest part of a vicious, dark sea. Noé is dangerous, because unbeknown to himself, he has worked a strange magic on Vanitas, pulling at invisible chains curling around his neck however Noé pleases. If Vanitas didn’t know better, he’d call it Fate, but she has abandoned him long ago to suddenly return like a sullen lover and beg him for companionship.

    “Louis,” Noé murmurs, drawing back Vanitas’s attention, and no, he isn’t jealous, not in the slightest. He just wants to reach inside Noé’s mouth and rip that name out of him. He hates that even though Noé is easy to read like an open book, it turns out its pages are filled with enigmas Vanitas is unable to solve.

    A little huff escapes him as he slides down the windowsill, his feet landing eerily quiet on the floor. Watching Noé snore undisturbed, he’s quite sure he’s met what must be the worst vampire of his kind. What else explains his utter lack of awareness of danger? Vanitas imagines slipping right next to him and sliding a dagger across his throat or put the barrel right above his heart, pulling the trigger.

    He’s so easy, Vanitas thinks, barely holding back a scoff. In so many ways.

    Noé shifts, and Vanitas stops, only noticing then he’s already crossed the room and has almost reached Noé’s bedside. And that’s another thing he can’t stand about Noé: He makes Vanitas do things impulsively, barely spending another thought if what he’s about to do is beneficial or utterly disastrous—no matter that, in most cases he is already moving, already talking, and it’s so aggravating that 80 percent of what he’s saying in a sentence starts or ends with Noé’s name on his lips. Like a blessing, like a prayer. Vanitas doesn’t pray, not anymore. He’s stopped long ago, and no God, Saint or Martyr’s promise of benediction would be enough for a reward to make him resume.

    So they punish him, and surely Noé is just another part of what they hold in store for him. Another explanation isn’t possible, because why of all nights in which he has visited Noé, this time he wakes up, his warning only a little hum before Vanitas is met with a sleepy face and white hair adorably ruffled.

    No, not adorable, he tells himself. Terrible. Annoying.

    “Vanitas?” Noé’s voice is rough on the edges and thick with sleep. “You can’t sleep?”

    Vanitas feels challenged to say, “No, watching people sleep is one of my many exotic hobbies!” but he’s tired and sort of really desperate for some form of rest, so defeated, he admits, “No, I can’t.”

    Noé considers him with more regard, and Vanitas wonders what he thinks, watching him stand in his room, barefoot and with deep shadows under his eyes. Just the previous day, he'd commented that Vanitas wasn’t looking well at all, and he'd asked if they should rest for a while. Vanitas had pressed on even harder, refusing Noé another good look at his battered form.

    The silence stretches before them like a lazy beast, unmoving but still ready to pounce any second. Eventually, Noé offers with a carefully even voice, “Do you want to know what always helped me falling asleep when I was a child?”

    Vanitas scoffs. “No, I really don’t.”

    “Good,” Noé says, either not noticing or ignoring Vanitas rolling his eyes. “Whenever I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d go to Domi’s room and climb into her bed. Knowing someone was beside me helped, and I can sleep much better with someone warm next to me.”

    “My, do I look like a ten year old boy, barely able to fend for myself that I need to share my bed with someone?” Vanitas cocks his head to the side, squinting at Noé from under his black lashes. “And who would want to lie next to a rough sleeper like you, ending up as a body pillow for your serving!”

    Noé arches a slim, white eyebrow and lifts his blanket. Vanitas stares at him for a moment, then moves towards him like a moth to the flame and crawls under the sheets, settling right next to the other boy. “What a splendid idea!” no one says, because it isn’t.

    Noé is a furnace beside him. Whatever space Vanitas tries to bring between them, he immediately bridges, pressing his arm against Vanitas’s.

    “Dominique is going to kill me if she hears about this,” he murmurs into the darkness, ignoring how Noé’s calf feels against his bare ankle. “If you so much as mention it to her, I will haunt you down and slay you.”

    Noé hums as he turns around to face him, snuggling into the blanket. Vanitas tries to lie as still as possible. He imagines he is a rock at the bottom of a vast sea where he’s been for hundreds of years and will remain for another hundreds of years. It works until he feels Noé’s warm breath ghost over his cheek and in his imagination, Vanitas sees the rock carried away with the water current.

    “She won’t bother,” Noé says. “Like I said, we used to do that all the time as kids. Me, Domi and—” The sudden silence feels like the air sucked out of the room so no sound can travel. Vanitas can feel his shoulders tense, his breath caught somewhere on the way from his lungs to his mouth.

    Don’t say Louis, don’t say Louis, he thinks.

    “And Louis,” Noé finishes quietly, another breath on Vanitas’s skin.

    “Then we must be talking about a different Dominique,” Vanitas says, not indulging at all in the boy that’s written in blood on Noé’s tongue and hands. “But then again, you are her favourite thing, and she would do anything for you. Do me one favour, would you? Don’t invite me to your wedding.”

    Noé makes a strange, curious sound, and draws his knees up to his chest. Vanitas tries to accommodate by moving further towards the edge but half of his body is already hanging off, barely covered by the blanket. He shivers and turns to his side, now facing Noé and notices too late what a terrible idea that is with only a few inches separating their faces. His eyes shift from Noé’s ears to his cheekbones and focus on where his lashes throw dark shadows on his skin.

    “Wedding?” Noé blinks up at him. “Me and Domi? What makes you think that we would marry?”

    “What makes you think you won’t?”

    “Dominique is like a sister to me.” Noé hums another little, low note, leaning his head forward. Vanitas leans back. “No, she is the sister I always wished for. I love her as family.”

    “Why, go and break her heart like that.” Vanitas sighs, faking a concerned huff. Either the soft fabric just under the tip of his fingers is his own coat or Noé’s pyjama, and he doesn’t dare moving to find out. “Or maybe you’re actually naive enough to believe she feels the same way.”

    “Why wouldn’t she?” He can practically hear the other boy frowning. “I’m certain she too loves me as a brother. And should she ever decide to marry, I’ll surely be sad, but it doesn’t matter as long as she’s happy. I just know she’ll be a beautiful bride.”

    Vanitas rolls his eyes, unable to believe such gullibility and there’s nothing he wants to do more than claw his way into Noé’s heart and see what makes him tick like that, what mechanics work to produce such a strange specimen like him. But before he can give back a snark remark, Noé suddenly asks, “What about you?”

    “Oh, I would make a lovely bride, thank you for asking.”

    “No, I mean marriage,” Noé says after a poorly restrained chuckle. “Are you considering to marry Jeanne?”

    Vanitas’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ before he barks out a laugh. “What in Heaven’s sake makes you think that?” he says, pressing one hand against his forehead because surely whatever Noé comes up with now will give him the headache that’s asserted itself within him since their first encounter.

    Noé is quiet for a moment, then whispers, “Because you love her.”

    Vanitas stops laughing. The headache doesn’t come, it’s dulled by the strange tone in Noé’s voice, one he fails to identify. It’s like grabbing mist, the whitish mystery clearly visible but slipping through his fingers.

    “That is a very strong assumption,” he starts slowly, hearing the edge in his own voice. “But tell me, Noé, do you see me as someone who is capable of loving?” Noé’s breath hitches, his answer clear to Vanitas before even spoken, so quickly, and with a voice dark and hard, like late-winter ice, he adds, “A vampire of all things?”

    Noé’s breath hitches again, this time sounding like a knife stabbed into his side. It does something funny to Vanitas, makes his heart jump a little out of tact, and he feels a smile slowly forming his lips into a crooked line. His hand sneaks up from under the blanket and reaches to grab a white lock, playing a contrast of black and white between his gloved fingers.

    “I don’t love, Noé,” he whispers, pushing his cheek into the pillow that smells of Noé. “Not you, not Jeanne. Not humans, and certainly not vampires. I only consume those of value to my cause.” Like you. Like Jeanne and that boy she holds so dear.

    Noé seems to understand, but he doesn’t pull away from Vanitas’s touch, which speaks volumes of whatever this connection between them is. No, he slightly turns his head, nuzzling into Vanitas’s hand, and with a shudder Vanitas realises how vulnerable the inside of his wrist is just inches away from Noé’s mouth and those hidden teeth that can easily rip apart his skin.

    In this short moment he begs to whatever deities currently punishing him that he would bite him. Because then everything would easily fall into place, and he could kill Noé without second thought; without remorse.

    Silver lines return to Noé’s face, and Vanitas blinks up at the window, at the narrow slit showing the moon emerging behind thick clouds, making Noé look like a piece torn out of the night sky: silver and black.

    “Ah, but it seems there is someone else who adores you,” he says, his voice rising to a playful, ironic tint. He nods his chin towards the moon, and Noé turns around and away from Vanitas’s hand, blinking into the soft light. Just for a split second, his fingers twitch—toward Noé’s throat, his cheek, his lips?—but he already pulls it back under the blanket, still feeling exactly where Noé has touched him even through the thick fabric of his glove.

    “La lune?” Noé turns back to Vanitas, brows drawn together.

    “Yes, the very one. But I don’t recommend giving into it. You can only go so far on a roof after all before you reach the end.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “You don’t know the story? About the man falling in love with the moon. He climbed up to a roof to reach her, but well. I think you can imagine the end of that.”

    “It sounds like the moon is a harsh mistress,” Noé says slowly, surprising Vanitas in joining his antics, even following his train of thought. “La belle dame sans merci,” he whispers. “Then you two aren’t so different.”

    Vanitas raises an eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”

    “Just as distant,” he says, shifting away from Vanitas for the first time. Good, Vanitas should think. Stay away from me. But instead he goes rigid and demands, Don’t go. “Just as out of reach.”

    “Thank you, I try to keep things interesting,” Vanitas says, his voice hollow.

    Noé surprises him (there it is again, being surprised when Vanitas has sworn that he’ll never underestimate another person ever again) by giving a soft chuckle. “But that makes me want to get closer to you even more, Vanitas.”

    His mouth goes dry. His brain tries to follow up with whatever might rebuilt the wall between them, brick by brick, but instead his mind betrays him and takes over his mouth, babbling, “Did you know Alain Chartier wrote the poem about the merciless belle dame? It’s a little tacky to my taste, but then again, I wouldn’t beg anyone for their adoration. It’s a silly concept, the dialogue between the Lover and the Lady, I mean why would anyone ride out to enjoy a party, only to languish at the feet of—”

    Noé groans. He stops the onslaught of words by slapping a hand on Vanitas’s mouth. The sudden silence stretches into uncomfortable territory until Vanitas can’t bear it anymore. He stares at Noé out from the corner of his eyes, and parts his lips to drag his tongue over Noé’s fingers. Noé flinches, and looks back at him with wide eyes. What usually did the trick to gross people out (Dante for example was fairly familiar with this concept and never failed to meet Vanitas’s expectations to draw away quickly) doesn’t work on Noé. He remains transfixed on Vanitas’s face as if all secrets of the universe display on his features, and Vanitas starts to questions his action. Suddenly, Noé shifts. He props himself on one elbow and leans over him, casting a long shadow over his upper body.

    Just then, Vanitas realises what a dangerous situation he’s in. Up until this moment, he thought Noé to be shy, but that isn’t right at all. Noé is quiet resolve, and steadfast loyalty, he is the very silence ready to pounce and turn peace into havoc. It’s evident in how he watches Vanitas behind half closed eyes, those ruby mirrors considering him with an unreadable expression. His heart picks up, and before he can ascertain if this is a game he can win, he answers with sultry eyes himself, and mouths “Kiss me” against Noé’s skin.

    It’s just out of curiosity, he tells himself. He wants to rile Noé up a little, see how far he can go and where he draws the line. Maybe Noé won’t do a thing and play the blushing maiden Vanitas imagines him to be. They both know it’s a dare Noé will lose because he respects Vanitas’s boundaries too much, and that little victory satisfies him already enough to smile into Noé’s hand triumphantly.

    Noé considers him with a blank expression before his eyes slowly drift to his hand where it’s still secured over Vanitas’s mouth. Something changes in his eyes, they grow soft, and Vanitas immediately regrets what he’s done because he can’t bear the warmth in them, the unspoken promise of whatever Noé is willing to give him. He thinks about squirming out of the boy's touch, but he’s started moving his hand already, settling on Vanitas’s eyes. His heart stops. Rotten memories claw at the edge of his mind, hungry hyenas demanding blood and misery that this kind of darkness brings. Before he can lash out and push Noé away, soft moon light illuminates the darkness behind his closed eyes again, and he takes a deep, shaky breath, only now noticing that he’s stopped breathing. His eyes snap open, locking with Noé’s as he brushes black bangs out of Vanitas’s face. The moon shines a halo around Noé when he leans down and kisses his forehead.

    It’s perfect.

    Vanitas hates it.

    He doesn’t move.

    Noé’s lips are surprisingly soft. So is his smell, a faint fragrance of sandalwood with the sharp tint of clove and something coppery hidden under the layers, and there’s nothing better to describe it than home. The realisation cuts him in a sharp, painful flash, one that robs him of the air he’s only just now regained. Noé is careful that no other part of their bodies is touching, and it’s the last act of kindness that pushes something in him into a bottomless, black hole.

    His fingers splay on Noé’s chest as he pushes him away, staring up into a slightly flushed face. The blushing maiden. Despite everything, it makes Vanitas smile.

    “You live dangerous, my friend,” he murmurs, playing with a shirt button close to Noé’s collarbones. “But I will condone it this once. It seems I forgot one gets burned when playing with fire.”

    Noé leans back, one hand beside Vanitas’s head carrying his weight, contemplating. Vanitas already knows whatever he’s going to say, it won’t be good.

    “I never thought of you as someone who would yield to anything,” Noé says eventually. “Not even fire.” And quieter, he adds, “Ignis aurom probat.” Fire tests gold.

    A shudder ripples through Vanitas’s body, stealing his control and causing him to laugh involuntarily because he doesn’t see himself as pure as gold, and Noé is so much more than a simple fire. Noé is a searing blaze, devastating cities and forests and leaving ashes of their self, allowing them to rebuild and regrow and turn away from an unwanted past. Vanitas would gladly sell his soul for such an opportunity, but he’s shackled by the shadow of a little boy half his height with a sweet voice and eyes the fairest blue even the sky envies.

    “You’re quite the charmer, but you do know what they say about gold, don’t you?”

    Noé hesitates, shifting a little, and even Vanitas with the little imagination that he has, can quite clearly picture how the muscles must shift beneath Noé’s dark skin on his back. He closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth. “Gold gives to the ugliest thing a certain charming air, For that without it were else a miserable affair.”

    Noé pales. “I didn’t mean—”

    “Shhh.” Vanitas smiles a smile Lucifer must have worn just seconds before God banished him from Heaven. His eyes don’t leave Noé for a second when he lifts a finger and presses it against Noé’s lips.

    “I know, you didn’t mean to.” He rolls his eyes, voice in a mocking tone imitating what Noé was going to say because he’s easily predictable. “And you would never hurt me. But that makes us different. Because I will gladly hurt you if you let me.” He follows the soft curve of Noé’s lower lip with the tip of his finger until he reaches the corner of his mouth. There he curls his finger inside and pulls one side into a crooked smile. A sharp tooth grazes his skin, not quiet enough to break it, but a shiver travels down his back nonetheless.

    Noé pulls Vanitas’s hand away from his face, looking down at him like he’s a strange animal he’s never seen before. A dull sadness settles over his eyes, but it’s too quick for Vanitas to really acknowledge.

    “Not gold then,” Noé concludes with resolution in his voice. “But quicksilver.” And with that, he places Vanitas’s hand carefully back on his chest, and retreats to his side of the bed, laying down so Vanitas is faced with his broad back, his body completely turned towards the moon.

    Vanitas blinks, stretching out one hand to follow the curve of Noé’s spine in the air with a finger, imagining what it would feel like to curl against this strong body and hold onto something what won’t break under his touch. He stays like that until he hears calm, deep breathing. Only then he lifts that same finger that’s been inside Noé’s mouth to his lips and sucks slowly until his mind talks him into believing it’s actually Noé he tastes.

    I don’t love, he repeats over and over in his head until his eyes fall close and he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

    The next morning starts just like Vanitas has always feared a morning sleeping beside another body would go. Waking up slowly to a woman’s voice in the far distance, he’s still walking on this slim line between sleeping and waking, a coma really, when his conscience registers a heavy arm around his waist and warm breath in his neck. His body locks up into one painful, tense muscle; all desperate instinct and frightened awareness because No, I don’t want Doctor to touch me, and he starts frantically scrabbling for the dagger below his pillow only to find nothing. Vanitas feels punched back to when he’s eleven and caged under Moreau’s heavy, naked body, a choked whimper like a wounded animal leaving his mouth. The arm moves, allowing the tiniest leeway. Vanitas doesn’t think. He swings his arm as hard as he can and hears the satisfying crack of a bone breaking. The man beside him gives a surprised shout, and Vanitas jumps to his feet, ready to break more than bones as the door crashes open at the same time, a woman storming inside.

    “Noé?” Dominique cries, taking in how he's bent forward on the bed, holding his face. It doesn’t stop the blood dripping all over the white sheets, and Vanitas grows cold when her sharp eyes land on him, a furious hate boiling inside them. “What have you done, human?” she hisses, reaching Noé’s hunched form within few steps.

    Vanitas is lost for words, a quite frequent reaction whenever he’s in Noé’s proximity. But it isn’t like anything he’ll say can excuse or save him from Dominique’s wrath, so he just stands there, dumbfounded, and watches her valuate the graveness of Noé’s broken nose, wondering if the man who’s fallen off the roof in the pursuit of his love lost as much blood as Noé right now and if that was worthwhile, or if he’d have rather poisoned himself with quicksilver.

    Not that it matters.

    Both end in a painful, slow death.

I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!’

[John Keats]

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

this is hungry work

the wench and the witcher

"this is hungry work”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Your Witcher will be gone at first light. He’s determined to keep occupied until then.

Warnings: NSFT/18+ - you should not be interacting with this fic if you are under the age of 18. Facesitting, overstim, intercourse, sweet-yet-possessive!Geralt. It’s... it’s just smut, y’all.

A/N: Full disclosure, I tried to tell myself I wouldn’t use this song for any of my fics and I should have known better. It’s just peak Hozier, and I would be remiss for excluding it. I have approximately 3 fics left in this series - yikes, I accidentally wrote a series - and then we’ll see where the Wench wants to go from there...

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @witchernonsense - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty​ - @wastingmypotential​

The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well, amen...

The light of the full moon shines in from the window, fills the room with the silver-ice glow. It’s cool and soft – enough to see by, making up for the embers that now barely smolder on the hearth. It should be cold without the fire’s warmth, but the heat flashing over your skin leaves you misted with sweat. It weighs down your curls and makes them stick to the back of your neck, to your face; each sharp inhale feels heavy and damp in your lungs. One hand grips the headboard so hard that your palm aches.

The other hand is fisted in Geralt’s hair.

Your thighs bracket his head and he holds you in place over his mouth. His fingers press bruises into your flesh. With a ragged cry, your body arches and your hips press down; you grind down onto the Witcher’s greedy tongue, calling his name as you come again. You briefly wonder if anyone has ever died like this. The low vibration of the Witcher’s growl hums over the tender, throbbing flesh of your cunt and you double over, whining.  Trying to pull away is futile; his grip on your thighs is too strong.

There’s no counting at this point. The pleasure borders on agony and Geralt is relentless.

He leaves in the morning.

It seems he’s determined to keep himself occupied until then.

“Gods,” you pant as your hips rock in time to the tide of your orgasm. “Geralt – “

Hazy golden eyes flash up at you, the dark of his pupils wide and fathomless. Your limbs feel like water, putting up no resistance when the Witcher shifts and turns you onto your back like you’re a ragdoll. He fairly glows in the moonlight, miles of pale skin stretched over powerful muscle that flexes beautifully as he pulls your legs over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue flicks sharply over your clit and you jump with a low hiss, “Son of a bitch – “

Geralt chuckles softly, noses at your damp curls. “I’ve met sailors who swear less,” he taunts.

You give a breathless laugh of your own. “You’re one to talk – oh!”

Fingers press, three thick digits slipping into your cunt with an obscenely wet noise and little resistance. The stretch makes your toes curl.  Geralt laps casually over your aching clit again to pull a sharp, desperate noise up from your throat.

“M’gonna miss that sound,” he growls and repeats the motion.

You whimper. His fingers press and thrust in time with the movement of his tongue until you’re shaking and cursing, fingers gripped tight in his shock-white hair. He groans against you when you tug, pushing the pads of his fingers up to stroke and circle over that soft spot inside of you – the one that makes your back arch from the bed as lightning goes flashing up your spine. His mouth closes over you, his cheeks hollow to apply a teasing suction and your voice breaks on a whine, “Geralt - fuck - I’m gonna - “

It’s a violent rush of blinding sensation – you shout, gushing over Geralt’s fingers as your hips rock into his mouth. He doesn’t stop.

You come again. And again.

He doesn’t stop until your muscles ache, until your voice is raw and you’re begging brokenly for respite. Panting, you glance down to see your Witcher smirking, his mouth pink and swollen, slick with your cum. He bows his head and makes his slow, ambling way up your body, chasing each flex of your muscles with a nip of his teeth. He’s already littered you with deep red marks, spots that you’ll press your fingers to when he’s gone, relishing in the dull ache. You shiver when he traces the bruises with his tongue, whine when he takes a beaded, tender nipple into his mouth. The sharp thrill of pleasure makes your cunt clench down on nothing and you whisper his name.

Geralt rumbles appreciatively. He guides you onto your belly, settles his warm, solid weight over your back. His lips feel like a firebrand on your shoulder blade  – his cock slicks over you, catching over the tiny ridge of your clit and making you gasp, “Please.“

He growls into your neck, easing his hips forward. The length of him splits you open, stretches your sopping cunt around him until you sob. It’s a slow and filthy pace that he sets. He rocks into you on a deep, grinding rhythm that makes you grit your teeth around a moan. Your fingers curl in the rumpled bedding beneath you. You feel the wet heat of his breath against your shoulder, the scrape of his teeth, and the steady, torturous rock of his hips. Your voice is a broken, ragged thing, harsh to your own ears when you cry.

A sharp, sudden push of his hips punches the breath from your lungs. “That’s my girl,” he pants against your hair. “Sweet girl – you take me so well, sweetheart. So fuckin’ pretty, taking my cock.”

He fucks into you, deep and unrelenting strokes. You pant, and grunt, too fucked-out to be self-conscious about how you might sound. You feel utterly spent, like there’s no possible way your body can respond, or keep up, but it does – you do. The Witcher pulls you up in one powerful motion, sitting back on his haunches and crushing your back to his front with one arm gripped tight over your chest. His skin is sweat-slick and scorching hot against your back. You grip at whatever you can reach, grasping at his hair, clawing at his arm; he chokes out a groan and his free hand pushes down the softness of your belly until his fingers brush where the two of you are joined, where you are stretched around him, soaked and quivering.

“Let me hear you,” he rumbles. “Say it, sweetheart – tell me – “

A flex of his hips. You feel every blood-hot inch of his cock, and clench down – your legs shake as you whimper, “Geralt – “

“Say it.”

He thrusts up into you, hard – a claiming. “Yours,” you gasp. “Oh gods – m’yours. Yours yours – “

The pads of his fingers drag over your clit. Your muscles lock. It’s a conflagration in your blood, roaring through your veins, leaving ash it its wake – your voice cracks as you scream. You hear Geralt snarl and swear as his hips stutter – he trembles against your back, pulses deep inside of you – filling you with the sticky heat of his cum. Your eyes roll back and then you’re floating, warm and boneless as if drifting on an ocean tide.

Geralt’s voice drifts through the fog. You come to as he pulls you against him, cradling your head on his shoulder while he strokes your limp curls away from your face with a tenderness that constricts around your heart. He’s watching you. Staring; as if attempting to commit each line of your face to memory while his thumb brushes at the corner of your mouth.

“Say it again,” he mumbles.

You have to remember how to breathe for a moment. “I’m yours,” you whisper.

Geralt kisses you lazily, delicately, and rolls you under him. His remarkable stamina has him pressing against the inside of your thigh again, hard and slick; you gasp when he slides in. You’re tender, borderline sore, but your hips still lift to take him. Your cunt still pulses at the welcome intrusion.

“One more, sweetheart,” he purrs against your mouth “Give me one more, c’mon…”

The Witcher barely moves. Just soft, shallow thrusts of his hips with his forehead pressed to yours and his fingertips tracing soothing patterns over your sensitized skin; you shake beneath him. The both of you balance on that precipice for an age, until a lark begins to call out its song in the courtyard outside. Geralt manages to coax one last slow, shivering orgasm from you; he moans into your mouth as he comes – you feel the steady throb of his cock, the warmth filling you as you shudder. You’re vaguely aware of Geralt’s weight settling beside you. Exhausted as you are, you utter a murmur as he curls you into his side.

Geralt’s fingers trace soft, meaningless sigils over your back as you let sleep take you.

[sinfulsachi]

Kinktober 2020.10.26

Prompt: Temperature Play Other Tags: Outdoor Sex, Vanilla Words: 1,824 Fandom: Detective Conan - ShinRan

.

.

Sliding open the shōji that leads to a quaint, snow-filled traditional Japanese garden, Ran finds Shinichi already dipped comfortably in their private little onsen, his arms splayed along its stony perimeter, head tipped and eyes closed like he’s napping.

She smiles fondly; seeing him like that is relaxing in itself.

For their honeymoon, Shinichi has booked a private hot spring in one elegant ryokan in Hakone, and Ran is nothing short of overjoyed. What better way to spend winter than doing winter activities and ending with a nice warm hot spring bath with the love of her life?

Ambling her way to her husband of three days, she slides off her light yukata, the falling of the garment around her feet alerting him of her presence.

Shinichi tilts his head up and blushes at the sight of her. Even if he has seen her naked countless times, that doesn’t make him revere her glorious bare form any less.

“So soothing,” Ran speaks first, sighing angelically as she tucks a stray strand that has escaped her bun behind her ear. She tests the temperature with her toes before dipping both feet in, water stopping mid thigh, and she sits beside him.

Oh, the countless times he bathed with her as Conan. But now, though the same person, the feeling is much different. He’s actually there - his real body and flesh - and it feels so right to hold her flush against him without any lingering guilt on his part. 

“Indeed,” he says, as he pulls her gently to him so that her back presses flat on his chest. His arms hug her waist in the water, his chin finding purchase over her smooth shoulder. “Such a nice break from the hustle and bustle of the city.”

"We’re married, Shinichi. Can you believe it?” She whirls her head sideways, and he catches his breath at the lovely dazzle of her eyes that pair beautifully with the misty, moonlit wintery night. Everything about the season and his wife is perfect.

"I can’t,” his nose nuzzles her soft, pink cheek like a cat. “You have to pinch me. Until now I still think I’m dreaming.”

Ran giggles, her graceful hand crawling onto his left thigh to give it a light squeeze. "You’re living the dream now, silly.” Flinching under her touch, her husband tightens the hold of his thighs on either side of her, intent to lock her in his embrace forever.

“It’s my dream, too. It’s ours.” Ran stresses, meeting his soft gaze with one of her own. The timpani of their matching heartbeats creates a beautiful melody in the stillness of the night.

The newlywed couple smile in each others’ lips, finding no need for words as they meet for a blissful kiss. Even in such angle, they slot with ease, and the incredible warmth of their lips is enough to convey to the other the fervent love and affection stored within every fiber of their being.

Hugging her close, Shinichi hikes his hands up, nestling on the cave under her breasts. Ran curves her slender back ever so slightly, making for a beautiful bow, breasts perking up, and the water ripples with the movement.

Not disconnecting their lips, he cups one full breast in his hands, enjoying his wife’s cute reaction when he starts flicking on a nipple. 

“Shinichi...” she looks at him with glassy eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you so much more,” he says, gentle hands kneading her chest under the water, feeling and loving her in all ways possible. “I want you to be the happiest woman on earth.”

“But I’m already the happiest,” she endears, tracing the outline of his jaw with heated fingers that’s been soaked under water for quite a while.

“Then I’ll make you happier than happiest,” Shinichi croons, kissing her chastely on the lips. “I’ll make you ecstatic,” he cranes Ran’s head to the side, giving his mouth access to her supple neck, “Euphoric...every day of every week.” 

“Oh,” Ran doesn’t suppress her delighted moan from his nibble on the soft muscle of her shoulder,  “You can certainly try...starting tonight.”

With that said, his other hand eases onto the junction between her thighs, hot finger pads tracing her hot slit in one slow upward stroke and Ran whimpers softly. The source of her wetness isn’t from the onsen alone. The almost scalding temperature somehow adds to the pleasing, shuddering sensation coiling in her belly as he twirls his skillful fingers over her swollen nub, and she doesn’t find it inconvenient one bit.

Both his hands are filled with her, massaging her lovely privates in earnest. Ran’s nipples and clit erect so early under his touch - far earlier than normal - and she knows he must’ve realized those too as she feels his responding cock twitch against her lower back.

Craving for a fuller view, Shinichi whirls her by her shoulders so that he’s face to face with her round, heaving breasts. He doesn’t waste a single moment in taking her pink nipple into his mouth and the other between two fingers. Thoroughly electrified, she arches her back onto him, and Shinichi encloses her right breast with his slick moist mouth, suckling and planting love marks all over it like a treasure map.

Beneath the waters, Ran is already working her snug fist around his cock, sliding her fingers ever so slowly from the base up to the ring of his tip, fondling his balls occasionally. Unable to suppress his heightening arousal, he muffles his groan on the valley of her breasts, vibrations of his mouth rippling through her half cold, half hot skin.

Then Shinichi calls her attention with a pat on her hips, disconnecting his tongue from her nipples for a second to catch her heady gaze. “I’d like to try something.”

"Hmm,” she doesn’t slow her hands down, “what is it, Shinichi.”

“I’d like to make the most out of our winter hot spring experience...” 

Despite his unwillingness to stop her beating hand, he manages to pull her with him to a stand, hot water dribbling down their skin and evaporating to the wind, and making them both shudder at the dry coolness of air. “But in order to do this you have to trust me.” 

“O...kay,” there is slight hesitance in her voice, but he reassures her with a soft kiss. “We aren’t going to do something rough,” he breathes on her lips, “just something...fitting for this night.”

He turns her around, both of them facing the edge of the onsen and bends her over its smooth, stony perimeter. Thin sheets of snow cushion her palms, contrasting the warmth and steam she feels on her legs dipped in the onsen and her skin numbs in a good way. His soothing, warm hands dragging along her spine, on her hips and buttocks insulate her body from the cold winter air.

She cannot see him but she hears the water splash behind her, and in the span of a breath, she feels the impression of his teeth on her inner thigh, going up until hot, muscular tongue presses on her bulbous nub.

“Oh— Ah!” she mewls, her dry throat unable to produce anything short of a moan. The feel of his nose bumping her ass cheeks and mouth devouring her folds drain her knees of strength, but his strong and ready arms support her wobbling posture.

No sooner does she feel the need to buck her hips onto his face, his mouth leaves her, only to be replaced by his thick, moist girth and before she knows it, he’s already slipped inside her and is pumping in and out, making her absolutely molten inside. 

“Oh my god—”

Outside, the hot water and icy air fight for dominance on the planes of her damp skin, blood circulating in a rush through her body into sensitive nerve ends. But her insides, oh, he’s lighting her ablaze. She hasn’t known until now that it’s possible to be frigid and on fire at the same time. 

Fingertips like icicles, she digs them deep in sheets of snow as she chants his name in puffs of air. Desperate for more body heat, she inclines her head back to reach for his lips, and their tongues twined while his fingers twirl her nipples. She shudders at the hotness of his flesh, her nipples pebbling from the stimulus. Ran figures he might be occasionally wetting his hand on the water to maintain the level of temperature she prefers. And god it feels fantastic.

“M-My, Shinichi, this feels—“

“Not done yet.” His finger traces her skin southwards, leaving a blazing trail in its wake as it reaches once again for her pert clit. Ran’s hips thrust back in surprise, the drastic temperature change from cold wind to warm flesh doing wonders to her trembling body.

Shinichi meets her thrusts halfway, encircling his fingers over her wet pearl while he makes tender love with her from behind. She’s never been this close to heaven before, feeling her soul leaving her with every twist of his hips and ghost of his thick breath against her shoulder blades.

Hips snapping and slamming against her, Shinichi loses his rhythm as he approaches his climax. Ran’s incredibly numb of the snow on her palms now as the heat produced by the steam and his thrusts and their sweat engulf her entirely until she can literally feel her whole body on fire. The buzzing heat radiates down her core and her stomach coils, walls clenching around him tight.

Hot come flows through her in waves, overwhelming her insides. His hips pause momentarily from the erratic spurts of his release and then moves again in a much slower speed, coaxing her with his fast fingers until she reaches her own sweet finish line.

Both are breathless as they slowly descend into the water, now tainted with the by-products of their lovemaking. None of that matters when she’s just had one of the most memorable orgasms in her life.

“How was it,” Shinichi murmurs weakly on her hair, still recovering from the post-coital haze.

Though exhausted and very much spent, Ran still seems to glow before his eyes. “Shinichi, I’ve never... I don’t know what to say I’m...” Craning her head to see his face, she brings a stiff hand to his cheek. “My hands are so...numb.”

He laughs at his wife’s comment, sandwiching both her hands with his own to share his body heat. “But was it good? Steamy?”

Blushing profusely, she gives a small nod, her back nestling snuggly on the comfort of his chest. “I’ve never... The cold and...Y-You make me... Gosh, I just love you so much. You make me happy.”

Shinichi’s lips curve up to a satisfied grin. "Like I said, that’s my goal,” he kisses her hair, rubs their intertwined hands together, “my goal, every day of every week.”

[romewritingshop]

Five times sex failed and the one time it didn’t

Fandom: Choices, Perfect Match

Relationship: Damien Nazario X F!MC (Name: Peach Park)

Warnings: Explicit Content! SMUT, A LOT OF IT, Using handcuffs, sir kink, papi kink, a little mention to anal, a lot of pain (Nothing too bad), A smidge of fluff, Damien Nazario, swearing

Word Count Total: 3517

A/N: So I had this idea around my head and there aren’t many smut fics that depict sex normally. It is always going well so I had the idea of Damien and MC (Peach) trying and failing sex. I probably am saying it wrong but I tried. This is my first public smut with explicit detail and I hope it is satisfactory. Also see if you can spot the choices character guest appearance. *Not someone from Perfect Match*

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ravenpuff02 @ephemeralsunsets

Like some couples, Damien and Peach have had their fair share of sex fails. Some were funny and some were not so funny. Among the several instances these five moments were the best memories of sex failing and there is that one time where the sex doesn't fail.

The first time is close to midnight. Damien was sitting on his bed waiting for Peach to freshen up in his bathroom. He sat on the left side of the bed, reading over case files on his tablet. He heard the bedroom door open and glanced to his right briefly. Something light pink caught his eye as he looked back up and sucked in a breath.

Peach stood in the doorway of his bedroom, in a light pink bra with black straps, accompanied by light pink underwear with black tulle frills. Her brown and blonde curls were shaken to look like the mane of a lion. She looked like the model for a lingerie company and Damien had to pinch himself to check if he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't as his eyes glued over Peach's form.

She sauntered over to the end of the bed, smirking at the fact that she made the PI speechless. Peach placed her hands on the bed and then her knees, prowling like a hunter creeping to their prey. Damien felt like he had died and went to heaven, unsure of whether this really was Peach. His eyes glided over her body and noticed the stretch marks on the side of her thighs.

Her small tummy poking over the waistband of the underwear and the cellulite hanging by her legs and he knew then and there this was his Peach. She looked way better than the models of lingerie companies. He really cannot believe she was his. Damien slowly put his tablet on the bedside table, charmed by Peach's smooth movements.

She came close and was a breath away from Damien's lips. Her eyes fluttered and Damien noticed she had on the dark wine red lipstick he loved, the one that left stains. He took a staggered breath and carefully placed his hand over his erection.

"Hi."

Damien almost came as he stuttered out.

"Peach."

"I have a little gift for you, seeing as it's your birthday tomorrow. I thought we should start the day with a … bang."

Damien swallowed as Peach smiled widely and sat back on her knees.

"So I want to ask: how would you like me … Sir?"

Damien's eyes darkened and he couldn't stop as he lunged at Peach, his hand going to the back of her neck and pulling her for a strong kiss. The both of them moaned at the heat rising as they both stood on their knees, their hands roaming one another's body and their mouths moving in a slow sensual dance. Damien let go of her lips and looked like a feral lion, hair messy and eyes dilated with desire. The dark lipstick was smudged around his lips and stubble. It made him look ten times hotter and Peach was resisting taking over.

"Turn around! On your knees!" Peach smiled and obeyed. She could feel Damien behind her, his fingers were delicately grazing her skin and she leaned her head back on Damien's shoulder. "As much as I love this on you, I want it off."

"Yes, Sir."

Damien unclipped the bra and tossed it to the door on his right. Pushing his index fingers into the waistband of her underwear and shoving it down to her thighs. He did the same to his underwear and grabbed the base of his dick. With his free hand, he tapped Peach's inner thigh and she shuffled to open up her legs for him.

Tantalisingly slowly bringing the head of his penis to her wet lips and rubbing slowly. She was more than wet down there as Damien smiled and kissed her temple.

"Is this for me Peach?"

She smiled and brought her right palm to the side of his face, stroking the stubble.

"All for you, birthday boy!"

Damien didn't have to do foreplay as he rubbed the dick more on her outer lips before slowly slipping his dick through her folds. The both of them shuddered at the cool air and heat between their legs. Damien pulled back until his tip was barely in and pushed again, deeper. A slightly louder moan crawled out of Peach's lips as her hand slithered to the nape of his neck, grasping at his hair.

Her other hand held his left wrist and brought it up to her breast, encouraging him to squeeze. An invitation he gladly accepted as he massaged and pulled at her breast, building his speed and she was managing to match his rhythm. Damien’s teeth grazed the crook of her neck and Peach smiled at the sensations Damien was giving her. The room was starting to feel hotter and perspiration was building around their brows and backs.

Neither one could care as they both were lost in their passion. They hadn't heard the front door open and close, small steps softly thudding on the wooden floor. The bedroom door opened and a loud clamor of voices yelled.

"Happy birthday Damien!"

Damien and Peach paled as their reaching climaxes vanished, replaced by a feeling of mortification. Damien slips out and scrambles to wrap the blanket around the both of them as they scream in fear. The other people scream before a female voice rings out yelling.

"Hey! Damien, it's us!"

Damien and Peach calm down to realise it was their friends: Hayden, Sloane, Khaan, Alana, Nadia and Steve. Real awkward timing as Damien and Peach take a deep breath. Sloane and Khaan have covered each other’s eyes while Alana and Nadia cover Hayden and Steve's eyes. Damien grips the blanket tightly and Peach holds the edge close to her chest. There's a moment of awkward silence before Peach decidedly breaks it.

"Why are you guys here at midnight?"

Hayden starts off explaining.

"Well it's Damien's birthday and we wanted to be the first ones to wish him. So … it was Nadia's idea."

Nadia's eyes widen as Damien and Peach turn to her with disappointed looks.

"Nadia!"

"Look we thought you guys would be asleep! Not … you know!"

Damien rubs a hand over his face as Peach can't help with a smile on her face. Steve, whose eyes are covered by Nadia, presents a cake tray of chocolate cake.

"We thought we'd pop in with a cake and have a mini celebration. It's chocolate fudge."

Damien presses his head into Peach's shoulder, praying for the ground to swallow him whole as Peach places a hand over her mouth. Khaan starts to usher the group out.

"We'll wait outside for you to … you know."

Alana is hanging out in the doorway as she picks up Peach's pink bra and smirks at the two of them.

"Did you guys finish?"

Damien lifts his head up, rolling his eyes at Alana’s intrusive behaviour.

"We'll see you in a bit, Alana."

She smiles and tosses the bra to Peach, winking at her.

"Good birthday gift."

She closes the door and it's Damien and Peach in the room. Peach finally lets go and laughs heartily, leaning back into Damien and clutching the blanket to her chest. Damien can't help but have a smile on his face as Peach wipes at her eye.

"Well that was a birthday neither of us will forget."

"It sure is."

Peach turns around and lets the blanket fall off her. Placing a palm on his face and pressing her lips for a short kiss, whispering.

"Happy birthday, D."

He rolls his eyes and kisses her back. Standing up and grabbing a green Henley off the floor.

"Come on, let's go before Nadia eats my birthday cake."

The second time was a different time. This time it was early in the morning and Damien and Peach were in bed. The both of them wanted to experiment a little and Peach's idea was to use Damien's handcuffs from his PI office. They had time to kill before a busy day and Damien had an idea which would benefit the both of them.

"Mhmm, Damien baby that feels good."

Peach tried to bring her wrists to Damien's head but she was locked as her wrists rattled against the bed post. The metal cuffs dug deliciously into her skin as her back arched at Damien's magical tongue.

He smiled as he glanced up at her, taking in the softness near her stomach and hips, her heaving breasts where the nipples stood attentive and her face. Her mouth open and eyes shut, the sweat making her glow. She looked like Aphrodite. Damien smiled as he brought his mouth back down to her vagina. Both his arms held her waist down and he brought his lips to her folds.

His nose brushed and pressed against her clit and his tongue swirled between her folds and over the hole. Peach shuddered and pulled at the sensations Damien was giving her. Damien was a pro at eating pussy and he had ruined her for other men. Not that she wanted to sleep with other men. She curled as she panted and begged her lover.

"Damien Sir, please fuck me! I want you now!"

Damien had edged her three times already as he lifted his mouth off her, giving Peach a glance to see his stubble covered in her wetness, lips plump. He brought his finger to his stubble and swiped all the wetness into his mouth, moaning at the sweet tanginess.

"Just like a peach."

Peach huffed a laugh at his pun as she begged politely.

"Please sir! Free me so I can touch you."

"Of course, Chica."

Damien brought a hand to the bedside table to get the key for the handcuffs, only for there to be nothing but their phones. He creased his eyebrow and glanced up at the table seeing no silver key there, mumbling to himself about where it could go. Peach felt a shift in the atmosphere as she took a deep breath and asked Damien.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you seen the key?"

"No I haven't."

Damien climbed off her and crouched by the bedside table, looking around for the key. Peach’s focus shifted as she tried to pull herself upright darting her eyes around to look for the key.

"Damien it was on the bedside table."

"Yeah but it's not there now. Hang on, I might have a spare somewhere."

Damien picked up some navy boxers and pulled them on. Going through his wardrobe and reaching into his light beige jacket, looking for the small silver key but to no avail no key. Then the worst happened. Peach’s phone rang and Damien and Peach shared a nervous glance. Damien goes to the bedside and picks the phone up, and shows her the name displayed. It was Peach’s boss, Justin Mercado.

Peach’s face faltered as she silently mouths to Damien.

‘Don’t answer.’

‘It’s your boss!’

Damien swipes by accident and Peach could hear Mr. Mercado’s voice.

“Hello? Peach!”

Peach glares at her boyfriend as she puts on her voice.

“Good morning, Mr. Mercado.”

“Morning, Peach. What are you doing right now?”

Peach’s eyes widen as she takes on a much steadier tone of voice. “I was just in the middle of sorting out your schedule for next week. What seems to be the problem?”

“Are you able to start half an hour earlier? There was some admin work I want to go over with you.”

Peach’s heart dropped as she glanced at her handcuffed wrists. Today was not a good day as she tried to think of an excuse. Damien rubbed his face in embarrassment.

“Mr. Mercado, I won’t be able to start half an hour earlier today. In fact, I won’t be able to come in to work today. See, the thing is … I’m not well.”

“You sound alright to me.”

“But I’m really not. I - uh -.”

“Peach? Are you okay? What happened?”

“Everything is fine, Mr. Mercado. I just … a family emergency came up and I have to go check on my grandma at the care home today. They said she took a fall.”

“Oh I’m so sorry. Take off however much you need.”

“Mr. Mercado, I’ll come back tomorrow, I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care.”

“Bye!”

Mr. Mercado hangs up the call and Damien and Peach let out deep breaths. Damien nervously smiles at Peach as she shakes her head in disappointment. There was a moment of calmness and Damien couldn’t help but let out a little snort at the situation.

“Laugh it up, Magnum. Can you pick the lock?”

“Have you got hairpins?”

Peach shrugs her shoulders as Damien goes to his wardrobe and pulls out some dark jeans and a white button up.

“I’ll have to go to my office and grab another set of keys from there.”

Peach shakes her head at the thought of being handcuffed for half an hour. Yet there was no other solution. Damien left their bedroom and drove to his office. Grabbing the keys and then driving home. Peach ended up having to wait two hours before Damien walked through the door with a smile on his face as he brandished the key. A shiny glint hit his eye as he crouched down and found the key under the bed. Turns out the handcuff key was under the bed this whole time.

The third time was a bit of a painful memory as Peach and Damien sat on the sofa in his living room. It had been a long week for the both of them as their work kept them busy. Today was date night and they could obviously not keep their hands off of one another. Peach sat on Damien’s lap, kissing him with passion. They both had stripped down to their undergarments as Damien grasped Peach’s waist. She made slow movements with her waist and Damien was dying from the anticipation.

“Chica! Please, don’t tease!”

Peach smiled and brought her hand to the nape of his neck and tugged his hair back, relishing in the soft groan he made. Damien’s eyes ignited as his demeanour changed.

“Chica! I’m warning you.”

“What are you going to do, Sir?”

Damien smirked and brought his hand up to slap her butt. He swung and just missed her butt, instead hitting himself in the dick. Immediately Damien let out a loud shout of pain as Peach jumped off him. Watching as Damien grasped his dick and lay on his side, curling into the ball, hissing in pain. Peach rubbed his forehead and shoulder trying to soothe his pain.

“Ay bendito!”

Peach rushed to the kitchen, going through the freezer and getting a bag of frozen veg. Wrapping it in a tea towel and bringing it to Damien, he grabbed it and placed it over his dick. The coolness brought relief to his pain as he took deep breaths. Peach helped him sit up and sat next to him, rubbing his thigh with comfort. Least to say that night ended with Damien holding the frozen veg on his penis.

The fourth time was also a painful memory as Damien sat Peach on the dining table, standing between her legs and grasping her legs tightly. Peach was grasping his shoulders tightly as Damien let go of Peach’s lips, panting heavily and hair tousled.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?”

“Yes you have, but it’s always nice to hear it from you.”

Damien laughed and trailed kisses down her neck, her sternum.

“You’re absolutely perfect. You’re my Chica.” 

He brought his lips to hers and brought his fingers under her skirt, rubbing slow circles through her underwear. Peach shivered and her head dropped back as Damien kissed and nibbled small bites on her neck. Damien pushed the underwear to a side and pushed his index finger deep into her. Peach curled her toes and gripped Damien’s waist tightly with her thighs, moaning his name. Damien thrusted his fingers slowly and stuttered at her tight clenching.

Peach wasn’t feeling a tingly pleasure, instead something felt hot and burning. She was starting to sweat profusely as she grasped at Damien’s shoulders.

“D, baby! Hold on! Something isn’t right!” 

She hissed as if she felt her vagina was on fire. A burning sensation was slowly spreading and she was squealing in pain. Damien immediately pulled his fingers out and his face paled as he realised something.

“There were jalapeños in the guisado.”

Peach’s eyes widened as she jumped off the table and ran to the bathroom to clean her vagina. Peach and Damien ended up going to the hospital that night and the doctors warned them to always wash their hands. And to hold off sex for a week, needless to say the both of them learnt their lesson.

The fifth time again was a painful memory, which leads us to Damien’s office. Damien had Peach flat on his desk as he thrusted his penis into her. The both of them were sweating heavily and Peach held Damien’s hand tightly. Damien was in his office, working late and Peach thought it a good idea to accompany him. Passions grew and the both of them couldn’t resist. Damien was making love to Peach on his desk and Peach was enjoying his company. Damien hiked her leg higher on his waist and allowed him to push deeper.

Peach moaned deeply and Damien panted deeply. His eyes turned to the right and noticed something strange. His thrust faltered slightly as he focused on the evidence board on his right. Damien’s eyes widened as he realised a connection in his case.

“That’s it!”

“Yes! That’s it!”

“No, Chica! I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“It was Avi Johnson. He’s been embezzling money from the clients at the bank.”

Peach heaved heavily and frowned at his focus but Damien was excited at the prospect of having solved the embezzlement case. He pulled out and was going to thrust harder into Peach. She widened her eyes as she realised Damien was going to stick his dick in her ass. Not that she hadn’t thought about it, but right now wasn’t the time and place. Nor was she prepared so she made the mistake of moving her waist away and Damien ended up hitting his balls into the desk.

Damien yelped in pain and held on to his dick, falling onto his office chair. Peach sat up on his desk and carefully brought her hand down to massage some of Damien’s pain.

“D, I’m so sorry!”

“Why didn’t you warn me, Peach?”

“You were focused on your case, you didn’t realise you were gonna stick it in my ass! I had to save myself.”

“Fuck!”

The mood was killed as Peach and Damien drove home. Once again the frozen veg packet was used to soothe some of the pain, Damien experienced in his balls.

Some of those memories were painful and the mood was killed. However, Peach and Damien could always make the best of the situation and this was one of those moments where a sex fail does not end up being such a failure after all. It was a late night and Damien and Peach were in the mood. ‘Dinner and a movie’ dates always ended up with sex which is what Damien and Peach were starting. They had stripped off their clothes and laid in bed, caressing and kissing one another deeply as Peach sat up in Damien’s lap.

“D, baby! Fuck me!”

“Well I’m trying to! A certain Chica’s trying to rile me up.”

“Please, sir! Fuck me!”

“Then stop teasing, Chica!”

Damien grabbed her waist and rolled her over to be on top, only instead of the both of them remaining in bed, they both ended up falling off onto the floor. Peach bumped her head and Damien landed quite heavily on her. He brought a hand to the back of her head and rubbed. Peach let out a giggle as did Damien, realising their clumsiness as she sighed.

“We are so silly, D.”

“That we are Peach. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, didn’t hurt much. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay Chica.”

The both of them were still naked and Damien’s penis was rubbing ever so softly with Peach’s folds. Their gazes went down as Peach wiggled her hips and Damien groaned. She brought a hand to his hair to direct him to her face and she leaned into his ear.

“Still can keep up, Papi?”

All the blood in Damien’s brain rushed down as his eyes darkened and he lifted himself to look directly into Peach’s brown eyes. As if ‘sir’ wasn’t enough, she had to go ahead and use Spanish against him. Especially Papi. Damien smirked dangerously with teeth bared as he lifted her leg onto his shoulder, anchoring her other leg on his waist.

“Say that again, Chica!”

“Fuck me Papi!”

[kiebs]

Under the Stars

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Pairing: Reds (Blossom/Brick)

Summary:  There were some things worth skipping out on the scared tradition of Scary Movie Night. Blossom found a meteor shower and alone time with your crush to be the worthiest.

Also over on AO3

Part of a challenge for the prompt “things you said under the stars” which @carriedreamerx, @renaerys, and I started over on AO3 for the month of July! If you would like to participate, please check out the page for the PPG Collection Hub over on AO3! :) 

---

Blossom spread the blanket with gusto, making sure it fell perfectly, before turning to her partner in crime with a grin. If ditching their siblings and friends were a crime, which Bubbles would probably yell at her for since in her mind, it was. Scary Movie Night was a sacred tradition after all, but there was a meteor shower tonight and you couldn't see quite as well from their house as you could from the wilderness.

Which was why she had snuck both snacks and Brick out the back door when everyone was engrossed in the most recent movie. Said boy was shaking his head, but dutifully dropped down on the blanket. She followed suit as he placed the snacks between them.

"So why are we in the middle of nowhere?" Brick asked.

The quarter moon gave just enough light to see his confused expression, but she would have been able to find him by the faint glow of his eyes. The faintest glow of red situated in a face half in shadow was rather startling if one didn't know about their night vision. Thankfully, she had long since grown used to it from countless Bubbles-inspired movie nights to bridge the gap between the Powerpuff Girls and the Rowdyruff Boys. They hadn't tended to fight at night before the truce in middle school so she had nothing from before then to compare.

Smiling, Blossom buried herself in the long since pilfered sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, and settled herself. The fabric had lost the scent of whatever soap and cologne he used, but it was big, warm, and perfect for sitting outside in a meadow in the Rockies. Maybe she should return it so it would get that scent back. Maybe.

"There's a meteor shower tonight," she answered, looking towards the cloudless sky. A sea of stars twinkled back at her, clusters and clouds of sparkling celestial bodies that the city lights tended to diminish. "I wanted to see it."

"And we couldn't see them from your house?" he grumbled, but he had lied down and she knew he was all talk. He scoffed at himself. "...right, light pollution."

"And could you imagine Butch and Buttercup's complaining?" She giggled and leaned her cheek against her bicep. Her eyebrows rose. "This is much nicer."

"Oh, I know how to make it nicer."

She had barely a moment before warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged. With a yelp, she ended up halfway on top of him with her knee in the pretzel bag.

"Oof!"

"Brick!" Blossom scolded. She wiggled off him and tossed the pretzels over herself before she settled with their arms touching. "Honestly."

"Aww, you don't want to cuddle?"

"We are here to watch a meteor shower! Not be randy teenagers!"

He snickered. "Randy? Seriously?"

"Oh, hush!" When his snickers didn't cease and instead grew, she scowled. "I will take this blanket and go farther up the mountain, so help me!"

"Oh and how will you when I'm on it?" he teased.

Their shoulders bumped.

She wrinkled her nose at him before scoffing. "I think we both know I am more than capable of throwing you."

"And I say you're too nice for that."

His eyes gleamed under the starlight. A teasing grin sat on his lips.

She felt herself grinning back.

"Wanna bet, Rowdyruff?"

The next moment they were tumbling, rolling through the long grass as they wrestled in a way more akin to their green-eyed siblings. Blossom wasn't really sure how it had started, but she had grabbed his sweatshirt and then he grabbed her wrist and the next moment they had abandoned the blanket. Small creatures scampered out of their way, the sound of tiny claws and squeaks just barely heard over their laughter.

The laughter that stuttered to a stop as the ground pitched and suddenly the gentle slope was much sharper. Their rolling picked up speed. Brick cursed and the next moment they were airborne and floating over the trail of crushed grass and foliage.

Blossom found herself surprisingly fine with being held, even if it was only his arms around her waist. Her cheeks warmed.

The drop definitely wouldn't have killed them, let alone hurt, but they had somehow rolled quite a distance from their blanket and snacks. Nevertheless, the evidence of their tussling, not even close to roughhousing, brought a grin and giggles to her lips.

Poorly hiding a snort, she looked over her shoulder at him. She blinked. "Oh! Your hat!"

Brick frowned before he looked up and patted his head. Another curse hissed between his teeth.

They flew over the path of crushed foliage. It couldn't have gotten very far. They hadn't really been fighting and even if they had been, she and Brick had mastered keeping their respective birth items on them at all times so a little tussle wouldn't have sent it flying.

Before long, a flash of red caught her attention. It hadn't fallen very far from the blanket and she scooped it up with a triumphant crow.

Turning with a grin, she ceremoniously dropped it on her head while maintaining eye contact with Brick. His eyebrows lifted, but she couldn't read the rest of his expression. He had become particularly good at controlling his emotions over the years and masking whatever he was feeling. Usually, a smirk sat on his face when he didn't look like he wanted to gut someone, which wasn't really his fault that his face naturally fell into such a distasteful expression! Buttercup had a similar sour resting face, after all.

This face, though, she couldn't read whatever he was feeling. His cheeks were still flushed from them rolling in the grass and, if the moonlight was true, his ears did look a little darker than usual. She had discovered he blushed with his ears sometime in middle school and she found it to be the cutest thing. However, she would never tell him that because heaven forbid the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys be cute.

He hadn't moved. Just stood there and stared.

She floated closer to him.

"Brick?" she called and he jumped, eyes widening. "Sorry! Are you okay?"

Abruptly, he rubbed his mouth with his arm and glanced away from her. "I-I'm fine. You just, uh, surprised me. D-Didn't you say you'd never touch my, uh, 'stinky, smelly hat'?"

Her arm shot out before she could think and she shoved him. He stumbled back a step, but a grin blazed across his face and overtook whatever had been there before. Her cheeks, however, burned.

"I was nine!" she cried. "And you and your brothers had dived into a sewage monster!"

"Were we nine? I'm pretty sure you said that in middle school."

"Oh! Oh, hush!" she huffed and stomped back over to the blanket. "I've probably said that at least once a year since you were born!"

Lifting her nose in the air, she settled herself in her original position, but now with both her arms and legs crossed. She tilted her head away from him with a huff.

Brick chuckled and then he was right in front of her. She more felt than saw him, the pressure of his power, even at rest, hard to ignore. As was his heat, which filled the air around them pleasantly and staved off the chill of night. A shiver crossed her shoulders unbidden and then she was scowling at his smug face.

Or, trying to scowl, because he was very close, almost improperly close. The kind of close that usually led to Robin and Mike rubbing noses or Bubbles and Boomer resting their foreheads together.

Blossom swallowed. Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth. The heat in her cheeks increased. Her fingers twitched.

His eyes were pools of fire, boring into hers even with his eyelids at half-mast. His head tilted towards her and her breath caught.

"I gotta say, Pinky," and he grinned at her grumble, "you do wear the hat well."

She wet her lips. "Of course, I do. Would you…Would you say I wear it better than you?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Their noses bumped. Her heartbeat pounded around them, a rapid rhythm echoed by his. "…hey, remember when my brothers and I first showed up and—"

"You were unstable," she cut him off, but their voices were hushed. "A-And that was…on the cheek…"

"Yeah, kind of a letdown," he mumbled. "Let's…correct that, huh?"

"Then…I should…" she let her voice trail and pressed her lips to his.

Her heart leapt. Her fingers tingled and she dropped them to her sides as she leaned more into him.

He snorted, his lips curling up, but she wasn't going to let him drift away after that, not when her everything buzzed in excitement. Not when she finally got to kiss the boy that she had been crushing on for the last year or three.

Her fingers curled into his sweatshirt, pulling him closer with maybe a little too much force. They crashed together, teeth knocking together, and Blossom found herself on her back, staring wide-eyed at an equally surprised Brick. Her cheeks burned, but that didn't stop her own snort from bubbling out.

His own laugh soon followed.

"Get excited there, starlight?" he teased as he flopped next to her.

"What—? What did you call me?" she asked between her giggles. She turned so she was on her side and plucked at his sleeve. "Tiger?"

His ears darkened. She grinned.

"Don't worry about it," he grumbled and she laughed more.

"No, no! You can't do that!" she chastised, leaning against his arm. "Brick!"

He turned abruptly so that they were facing each other again. Their faces were close, so close that only a finger or two breadth separated their noses.

"You don't like it?" he asked in a sharp tone that anyone else would construe as annoyed. Blossom, however, had spent too much time with him now to be fooled.

She smiled at him and tilted her chin up. He was already leaning towards her again.

"I love it."

Their lips pressed together a second time. Her hands cupped his face and his molded to her waist through his own hoodie. The buzzing exploded through her, filling her with a frothy mess of serotonin and endorphins. Their knees knocked together.

They drifted only an inch to breathe, but it was too hard to resist the other. His lips seared hers, but she couldn't really tell if that was his power or just her hormone-addled brain. She didn't care, honestly, too engrossed in the sensations sparking up and down her spine and bouncing around in her stomach and chest. If he burned her a little, what of it? She might have frosted him on accident in her haste to taste him.

A flash of light streaked behind her closed eyelids.

Dread jolted into her throat and she pulled away from the kiss to look up.

"Oh!" she gasped and then— "Oh!"

Blossom may have stopped, but Brick seemed more than content to shower kisses onto her cheek and lower. She shivered, biting her lip at the kisses trailing her throat. Her fingers knotted in his sweatshirt before, finally, she grabbed his chin and turned his face.

"Oh," he mumbled. Her grip stayed firm when he tried to turn his head. "Pinky. Starlight. Blossom."

She relaxed her hold and then curled her fists against her fluttering heart. "Sorry. I…"

"Nah. I'm sorry," he muttered and leaned their foreheads together. "I, uh, got ahead of myself…"

"I liked it," she mumbled. Her lips curled up at him stroking his nose against hers. "…but I really wanted to see this."

They rested there for a long moment, soaking in each other's presence. Even though she said she had wanted to see this meteor shower, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Brick.

His stayed glued on her, too.

"…which shower is this?" he said at long last.

"The…Perseids," she answered. She swallowed. "I like you."

A grin cut across his face, boyish and charming and too infectious to ignore. She grinned back.

"I didn't take you as the type to kiss random boys, anyway," he teased and bumped their noses together again. "I like you too."

The frothy feeling exploded, her whole body tingling like a shaken can of soda. Giggles spilled from her lips and she covered her burning face. Her body felt light and buoyant from the sheer giddiness flooding it.

"Whoa, hey there." Hands gripped her waist and brought her down to Earth. Her ears burned, but it was hard to stifle the euphoria bursting from her everything. Brick raised an eyebrow down at her. "You float like your sister?"

"Like this?" she asked, peeking through her fingers at him. "Only for you."

Heat burst from him, warming the chilly air like a small sun. His cheeks more resembled his eyes, a very rare feat that she would saver until they were old and gray.

She giggled and then laughed aloud when he tugged her hood over her head.

"Didn't you want to watch your dumb stars?" he growled, though really it was more of a whine.

Still giggling, Blossom rolled until she was on her back. She was in too good of a mood to care about his gruff comment because she knew he didn’t actually mean it like that. His hat sat askew on her head, but she really didn't mind, not when he let her use his arm as a headrest.

Meteors streaked across the sky, glittering trails crossing over constellations and the great sea that was the Milky Way. They definitely wouldn't have gotten this view from her house. She probably wouldn't have gotten that kiss either, considering their siblings and Bubbles' overenthusiasm with her sisters' love lives.

Thinking of her bubbly sister and her reaction when she realized that both Blossom and Brick were missing sent a chill down her spine. Blossom refused, of course, to let that ruin her mood and moment, instead snuggling closer to Brick and grinning at him stiffening. She would worry about Bubbles later.

After all, she was warm and cozy and wanted to enjoy her stolen time to the fullest. What better way than a kiss under the stars and snuggles under meteors? She hummed softly with a content smile.

"What's it like?"

Blossom blinked rapidly and looked up at Brick. He continued to stare at the sky, the meteors reflecting in his eyes, skin lit up by the moon and the thousands of stars above them.

"What's what like?" she asked.

"Space."

She let her eyes return to the sky, but she wasn't seeing the dazzling dance or sea of stars beyond it anymore. Her mind was beyond the moon, miles away on an asteroid between Mars and Jupiter. Mind years in the past, before there was their truce, before Rowdyruff, before even Powerpuff.

"Cold," she mumbled. Certainly, she had gone other times over the years, but that first time would forever be carved into her. She swallowed and looked back at him. "You never went?"

"Never tried." He shrugged one shoulder. "Never had a reason."

His gaze didn't waver from the sky.

Her heart thudded in her chest.

"Let's go."

Brick blinked rapidly and turned to her. "What?"

"To space. Let's go," Blossom said, already on her feet and holding her hand out to him. "Do you trust me?"

"I feel like that's a loaded question," he muttered, but took her hand all the same. They lifted into the air. "Didn't you say it was cold?"

Butterflies flitted in her ribcage, all flustered and excited and wobbly. She grinned at him.

"Not if you're there."

[alicedopey]

A Stormy Birthday

gif by @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​

Fandom: Vikings

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Halfdan / OC (Gaby)

Words: 2185

Summary: A year later, Gaby tries and makes a wish for her birthday.

A/N: This is a fic written for @naaladareia​ ‘s birthday. I’m more than a month late so yay...I’m a horrible friend.

Lockdown at home because of a deadly virus? Check. Working in her own kitchen because going to work was impossible? Check. Spending her birthday alone? Check.

Gaby let out an enormous sigh as she looked at the lonely lit candle set on a chocolate chip muffin, waiting to be blown. The last year had been hectic to say the least; losing her mother, getting sick quite often, awful stress at work…holidays had been more than welcome. Nonetheless, being stuck on a tropical paradise and wondering when she could go back home was not her definition of good and restful holidays. Fortunately, she was now safe in her own apartment. Alone, but safe.

She gazed at the candle again and a smile suddenly pulled at her lips. Lightning could not strike twice at the same place but it was worth a try. Anything could happen.

“Happy birthday to you, Gaby.” She softly blew the candle as she closed her eyes and wished she could spend the night with Halfdan the Black.

She waited, waited, waited…and tentatively opened one eye. Nothing had happened. She was still at home, alone.

Gaby sighed again and ragefully bit in her muffin. Lightning could definitely not strike twice. Maybe a good bath would help. It always did. Well, that and a good glass of red wine – or maybe two.

When she got out of the bathtub some thirty minutes later, she could indeed verify her theory. The bath had helped her relax, as had the wine. She was ready to go to bed and leaving her lonely birthday behind. She slipped into her bed. The sheets and blankets felt like Heaven. It was hot, comfortable, fluffy, wet…wait? Why was it wet?

She briskly opened her eyes and realized she was not in her own bed but on a bed of leaves in the middle of the woods. It was raining. Heavily raining. Gaby abruptly stood up and took a few slippery step forwards and shielded herself from the rain with her arms above her head. There was absolutely no light in sight. She was probably lost in the countryside somewhere. Some place with endless woods. There was no noise apart from some animal cries in the distance and the leaves crunching under her feet. Something was definitely wrong. Where was she? When was she?

There was a slight chance that she could…but surely no, that was impossible. Such things only happened in novels or movies.

Looking up, she saw a cabin in front of her eyes. Hesitantly, she staggered towards it and prayed that a bloody assassin was not waiting behind the door to slit her throat.

She cautiously opened the door and tried to spot something or someone thanks to the help of the moonlight. No life in sight. The rain was still heavily pouring so she came inside and closed the door.

Suddenly, a strong hand was put against her mouth and a body pressed her against the wall. Her eyes widened as she recognized the musky scent and she let out a silent gasp.

“Missed me?” Her attacker whispered in her ear, then his hand left her mouth.

Gaby took a deep breath and slowly turned around, his muscular body still pressed against hers. That same muscular body which had made her cried out of pleasure a year ago. He was watching her intently, his lips tugged upwards by a wicked smile.

“Halfdan, what…what are you doing here?”

“You asked for me, remember?” He leaned forwards until their lips were almost touching. “I wish to spend the night with Halfdan the Black were your very specific words.”

Wow…those birthday wishes of hers were really strong. What surprised her in a good way was that he remembered it as well as she did. His mind was probably full of questions.

“Who are you?” Here you go. “A seer? A witch?” He asked in an accusatory tone. She felt his hand on her throat and wondered if he would hurt her but he simply stroked her skin, a pensive look on his face.

“None of that.” She cleared her throat. “I just made a wish, blew a candle for my birthday and there we are.”

His brows furrowed. “You’re not from my time, are you? From what I recall, your place seemed quite odd and comfortable.”

“I’m from the future, you may say”. She added hesitantly. She did not wish to scare him, she knew what he could do in case he was faced with a threat.

He nodded as if he was processing all the new pieces of information he was getting. “Maybe the Gods sent you to entertain me.”

She arched a brow. “You think?”

Feeling bold, she stretched out her hand to touch his shaved head. To her surprise, he leaned into her touch and let her explore his skin. “Because I’m the one who made the wish so technically, you are the one supposed to entertain me.” She added in a whisper, her fingers gliding over his lips.

“I’m all yours, then.” His eyes were full of mischief and sinful promises when he said those words.

Gaby could not resist the temptation and pecked his lips gently. Halfdan did not make a move and let her dispose of his body in any way she wanted.

Setting her hands on his chest, she bit his lower lip. The Viking got the message and granted her access to his mouth but he did not respond to her kiss.

Gaby let out a sigh of frustration and led his arms around her body so that they would embrace his waist. Then, her lips went down to attack his throat, his neck that she sucked wildly. His skin was delicious, something between salty and spicy which screamed manhood. She had missed this, missed him.

Halfdan finally reacted to her ministrations with a groan. She smiled against his skin. It felt good and exhilarating to have some power over this bloodthirsty warrior. Not losing her smile, Gaby left kisses over his collarbone before kneeling down before him. Her nose bumped against the bulge in his trousers. A bulge she palmed.

Halfdan’s hips lurched forward in response and the Viking hissed. He was aroused and very impatient, she could tell. She was impatient too and decided to put an end to his misery here and now, undoing his trousers promptly.

Her mouth watered at the sight of his sex in erection. There was no hesitation in her gestures when she gripped it between her fingers, pumping it a few times, letting her fingers run along his soft velvety flesh, her thumb stroking his tip leaking with precum.

She looked up at Halfdan who was watching her with lustful eyes. Without breaking their eye contact, she took his cock in her mouth and started sucking wildly. As soon as her mouth hit his flesh, Halfdan let out a shaky sigh and let his hand fell backwards in pleasure. He did not hold back after that. His hands went down her hair and he massaged her scalp, showing her how he wanted to be pleasured. His hips’ motions mirrored the moves of his hands on her soft hair to guide her the best way he could.

Gaby accelerated her moves and rest her hands on his thighs for support. Saliva was now rolling down her chin but she did not mind. The only purpose was to please him as much as he had pleased her one year ago. The memory made her lower belly tighten and she felt her sex getting slicker by the minute. Desire was running through her veins, all of this just by pleasuring him.

He was getting bigger in her mouth; his release was getting closer. She tried to speed up her moves on his cock but Halfdan seemed to have other plans because he gently tightened his grip on her hair and asked her to release him. Her mouth let go of his sex with a wet pop. Intrigued, she looked up at him. Halfdan smiled and lowered his face toward hers.

“I want to please you.” He whispered against her mouth before taking her lips in a sweet kiss. He cupped her face and helped her stand up. He tugged on her still damp night dress and slid it up her body. She raised her arms so that he would take it off. Their lips got separated for a few seconds during which Gaby shivered. Halfdan quickly got rid of his furs that he spread on the floor of the cabin and attacked her lips again. Shivers ran through her body except this time it was not due to the cold.

The Viking led her in the middle of the room and made her lie down on the furs. He lay on his side next to her, taking his time to admire her body. Gaby’s cheeks flushed under his hungry gaze. It felt good to realize he was desiring her as much as she desired him. Growing bold once again, she reached out to touch his sex but he stopped her.

He took her hand and kissed the palm tenderly. His lips followed a path down her arm. Gaby’s breath had become erratic, his light kisses were making her feel dizzy.

By the time his lips had reached her shoulder, he was hovering over above her, his muscular body set between her legs.

Gaby whimpered. She was desperately waiting for him to possess her. He gave her a seducing smile and leaned in to take her lips. Their kiss was heated, passionate. Their lips were making love, their tongues were wildly dancing together.

When Halfdan finally thrusted into her, Gaby cried out in his mouth. He did not move at first, letting her some time to adjust to his size. Breaking the kiss, he stared at Gaby intensely, bulled back and went back in slowly, diving into her inch by inch.

Gaby saw his eyes darken as he was getting deeper and she assumed he was seeing the same passion in her eyes.

She whimpered again with need and he started moving. But his moves remained controlled, deep, powerful yet slow. It was good but agonizing. Gaby hooked her legs over his hips and dug her heels in his buttocks in order to urge him to go faster.

“Is there a problem?” He asked mockingly. His voice was hoarse though, heavy with lust and need.

“Faster!” She whined desperately. “Please, you murderous sexy Viking”.

He laughed. That damn Viking laughed at her words. “Sexy, am I?” His eyes were glowing with mirth.

As Gaby was about to reply, his hips snapped into her more forcefully. The rhythm of his thrusts accelerated. Gaby’s nails dug into his shoulders. She pulled him closer and raised her hips to meet his thrusts. They danced together, their bodies glued to one another. Nothing could have even slipped between them.

Lost in her own bliss, Gaby closed her eyes.

“No, no, no lady…” He tsked at her. “Open your eyes. That’s right.”. He added when she obeyed him. “I want you to look at me, I want to see you when you finish.”

His words aroused her in a way she could not describe. Her hands let go of his shoulders to cup his face and share another passionate kiss with him.

His hips began their wild ride again, their eyes still locked into each other. They never broke their eyes contact. Not when he slipped a hand between their sweating bodies to play with her most sensitive place, not when she finally came undone, her mouth opened on a silent scream and that he followed her with a guttural groan.

He fell on her, his head on the crook of her neck. She hugged him and deposited a kiss on the salty skin of his shoulder. He gave her a kiss on the neck in response and slowly pulled out of her. Then, he rolled them on the side and pulled Gaby against his chest. Sighing contently, she softly caressed his tattooed chest. Her eyes dropped, she was exhausted, ready to fall in a refreshing sleep.

Halfdan was not ready to go to sleep though. His hands were already roaming all over her body.

“There will be no sleeping tonight” She opened her eyes. His look was hungry and made her shiver in a delicious way. “After all, you asked for a night. I’m not done with you.”

He gripped her ass, letting her feel his hard-on. All signs of fatigue deserted Gaby’s body as she lost herself in the pleasure Halfdan was giving her.

Gaby woke up in her bedroom in the morning. She was alone. Her body was sore once again, except this time, she vividly remembered the reasons why. Rolling on her side, she nestled herself into her soft pillow, a big smile on her face. What will she wish for next year?

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @gearhead66​ @tephi101​ @akamaiden​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @captstefanbrandt​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @medievalfangirl​ @ivarandersen @therealcalicali

[tsukkinami]

clever-tongued

fandom: The Last Kingdom (TV)

pairing: aethelflaed / aldhelm

rating: Explicit

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 here

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The evening started innocently enough—the quiet of her bedroom, a mahogany lounge lined in sheepskin, wine poured halfway to the top before rippling with the echo of colliding goblets. Aldhelm seemed weary, distracted, and Aethelflaed found she could not blame him. Who could? The burden of knowledge is a heavy one, encumbering when padded with secrets, and the man had been yoked by loyalty to Mercia through her husband for a long while. But Aldhelm is good at his job. He had always been tight-lipped and clever-tongued.

The candlelight flickers once, twice. Aethelflaed first begins to feel the hum of her alcohol running just beneath her skin, and it’s not too much. She laughs at something, spoken hushed between them, and it’s a bubble rising in her chest that bursts. Aldhelm smiles, tries to hide it by focusing his gaze to the floor between his planted feet, but Aethelflaed leans into him to pull him close, to draw him into the warmth of her small delight. She says something back, a quick retort, and his laugh mirrors hers.

And then the laughter fades into silence, into curious flicks of the eye to noses, lips, planes of cheeks. Aethelflaed never realized that gold was spun into Aldhelm’s dark hair, that his eyes held storms and his brow arched to the right, like hers. 

I want you to kiss me. She had not meant to say it outloud.

There’s a strangeness in the moment, like being plucked from time itself. Aldhelm is still, lips parted to reply, to act, to promise. No thought demands the action of Aethelflaed moving her hand to rest upon his, but she does so regardless, pink fingertips brushing against the hem of his blue linen sleeve and curling. It is an anchor, a touchstone, and it draws Aldhelm’s eyes away from hers for a moment, to assure himself that the words she had spoken were true.

“Lady, I cannot.”

It’s a push and pull, a calculated move which Aethelflaed can see him forming a plan around in his mind. He always thought two steps ahead, strategic and cautious. Oft she’d find herself thinking in stride, but tonight her patience was not held for games.

“Why?”

Her voice is as quiet as the flutter of her eyelashes, when her gaze falls from him to the small space between them, growing smaller with the passing seconds. She watches his eyes do the same, watches his mind struggle to keep up with the moments ticking by.

“I fear what a kiss becomes.” His hand twitches, turns over in her palm, to hold it, to run his thumb over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. “I fear I am not worthy.”

His hand is soft on hers, his presence warm and comforting. He’d saved her life, time and time again, even when it seemed not in danger. The tears she had cried into his shoulder number too many to count. Aethelflaed has no fear.

“Then let me prove you wrong.”

She grants him no quarter, no time to think, to retreat. Her body moves forward, curving into his embrace, and her mouth finds him, even in the low light, with trained ease. His stubble scratches at the corners of her lips, the underside of her nose. He smells of pine and the wine they shared, and when she breathes in, he is all she knows.

For all his hesitation, Aldhelm does not fight, but responds with her enthusiasm, blended with his own long-suppressed desire. He runs that clever tongue along her bottom lip, lets her guide his hands to her waist as she presses herself against him. The heat at her core rises to simmer against her skin, to set them both alight at every point of contact. He seems not to mind being burned.

The heat grows, amplified by their closeness, and soon Aethelflaed is shrugging out of her dress, a red velvet affair which clings stubbornly to her body. Without a word or a pause, Aldhelm brings his deft hands to her collar and lets his fingers stutter across her pale skin, slipping her arms from the confines of the garment. She snatches one of his palms from her shoulder and draws it to her breast, body lurching as he molds his touch to supple skin. When she moves, upsetting their rhythm, he breaks away from their kiss, sealing his lips now to her pulse point and sucking a dark red brand against it. His lips drag, gentle and purposeful, down the length of her neck and pause to rest inside her clavicle, kissing her freckles in the pattern of a constellation.

Despite the heat, Aethelflaed shivers, eyes shivering closed in kind, and takes a gasping breath between her lips as her fingers trail up his arms to his neck. The binds of Aldhelm’s shirt are loosed with precision, and soon she is spanning her palms across his chest with possessive desperation, nails grazing across his skin in an unspoken promise to him that by night’s end, neither one of them would go unmarked.

He hums into her skin, spurred by her ministrations, and in a motion as quick as thought, he reaches around her waist and draws her up into his lap. The sheepskin is soft against her knees as she braces her hands on his shoulders and captures him between her thighs, locks of her hair falling against his ears when she kisses the top of his head. His arms curl around her back to pull her flush against him, and his mouth worships her heart, her breasts, until she can be silent no longer, her moan echoing about the room as she tilts her head back to let it slide from her throat.

“Is there still fear in your heart?” she whispers into his hair once she cranes her head back down. Aldhelm pauses, peering up at her in the same way a priest peers to the heavens, reverence only faintly undercut by lust, a darkening thunderhead in his eyes. Never before in her life has Aethelflaed so badly wanted to be caught in a storm.

“For you, my Lady—always.”

And with that, he resumes, efforts redoubled; whether it is to draw more noise from her lips or for his own pleasure, Aethelflaed does not know. She does not care. Her hips cant against him when his hands wander to the soft plush of her belly, tracing the marks of childbirth that line her thighs.

“I fear what you do to me,” he whispers as she pulls his shirt over his head, hair mussed when she twines her fingers through it. He plucks at the fabric gathered at her hips before diving beneath, exploring her searing heat. “I fear what I become for you.”

His nose bumps the lobe of her ear as his fingers breach her, eased by her arousal. Air hisses through her teeth as his wrist flexes to move his fingers inside of her, accompanied not by pain but by surprise and feverish anticipation. She moves her hips in time to assure him of his actions, moaning into his neck between uncoordinated kisses.

“I fear what you could do to my heart if you realized just how much of it belongs to you.”

In a flurry, she tears his face from her nape and bruises his lips with hers, gasping against his mouth as his fingers quicken their pace. The flat of his thumb rubs against her clit with pinpoint accuracy, and she cries as fire ignites inside her blood, tightening fast around his fingers and rocking against them as the flames lick her from head to toe. She barely has time to let the air return to her lungs before Aldhelm is lifting her upright, careful to keep her steady.

The rest of her dress falls to her feet, and she steps backwards out of it, glued to him still as he guides her to her bed and lays her gently down. He takes a knee at the foot of it once he tugs his boots from his feet and his breeches from his legs. Aethelflaed is still awash in the glow of pleasure when she feels his hands running up the underside of her thighs, hooking them over his shoulders as he inches her closer to his face.

“My blood runs hot for you, Lady,” she hears him say, and props herself up on her elbows to peer in awe down at him. “If I could—”

“Aldhelm, yes,” she cuts him off, grabbing a fistful of his hair. She knows his intentions already, and the mere thought makes her skin jump. “Please, I cannot—oh!”

The feeling is so different than what she expected it to be. It is hot to hot, slick to slick, an alien sensation which makes her angry—angry—not to have felt before tonight. It seizes her for a long moment, draws all air from her chest and thoughts from her mind as Aldhelm drags his clever tongue between her wet folds, lily soft and trembling with residual waves of shock.

Her neck cranes backward, the crown of her head brushing the pillows beneath as she lets out a long groan, bucking against his mouth and twitching when his facial hair scratches the delicate skin around her core. Aldhelm is relentlessly delicate, mouth moving with practiced form, and if Aethelflaed did not know him better, she would think him an expert at his craft. It is not long before she is all but clay beneath him, shaped to him and pliant to every scorching touch he graces her with, and not much longer after that before she is rutting against his tongue in small, febrile movements, chasing after the fire in her gut with him as a guide.

When he hums his pleasure of the moment, the feeling of her around him, all-consuming, the lady of Mercia loses her head, stars soaring across her vision as she trembles with her second shockwave of release that night. Her back arches out of her control, fingernails scratching against his hair as she pulls him close, and never once does he relent or complain. He has done now twiceover what no one else could ever do.

Aldhelm waits for her to quiet, to still, before planting kisses on her thighs, her hips, her belly, finally to her mouth. Her slick is heady and intoxicating on his tongue, and when it’s mixed with his taste, not the finest wine can compare.

“Do you still believe yourself unworthy?” she murmurs once he pulls away, body slotting neatly between her legs. She feels his arousal rub against her wetness and she brushes up into it, eager, despite the tenderness at her center and the tiredness in her veins, to continue their escapades. He gazes at her with the highest adoration, lips quirking into an easy smile.

“Lady, I have not yet begun to prove myself,” he vows, and Aethelflaed’s nostrils flare as heat does the same down her spine.

“Then you’d best start now.”

--

[kinkykinard]

Doctoring December - Day 22

For @dancingwith-thesunflowers.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Christine Chapel. Prompt: Pain. Word Count: 1142. Rating: 13+. Warning(s): none.

Christine leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side and groaning as her neck ached fiercely.  She’d slept terribly the night before and woken up stiff, after which a long shift in med bay had only served to worsen the tension in her muscles.  She sighed inwardly, hunching back over her PADD and entering a few more patient notes as the minutes ticked by toward the end of her shift.

“You alright?”

She glanced up as Leonard’s voice pierced the veil of her focus, distracting her from her work.  

“Nothing a little Ibuprofen and a hot shower won’t fix,” she explained.

Leonard made a wordless noise of sympathy, stepping up behind Christine and gently resting his hands on her shoulders.  She hissed a little as his fingers dug into her muscles, simultaneously feeling good and making the pain flare.

“You’re wound tighter than a guitar string,” he commented with a low whistle.  “I think you need something a little stronger than Ibuprofen.”

Christine frowned, giving up all pretense of finishing her charting.

“You know I can’t take muscle relaxants,” she warned.  “You remember how sick they made me the last time.”

“I wasn’t talking about drugs,” Leonard argued softly.  “I meant you could use a massage.”

Christine groaned at the thought.

“That sounds like heaven.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got nothing to do tonight, and rumor has it that my hands are pretty legendary,” Leonard teased playfully.  “Why don’t you head up to your quarters when you’re done and wait for me?  I’ll join you shortly.”

Christine bit her lip, considering his offer.  On the one hand, they’d been casual lovers in the past and he’d seen all there was to see of her, but on the other hand a massage seemed a step too far into the realm of intimacy for comfort.  He was nothing if not a gentleman and a consummate professional, but he was also her boss.  Still, the aches throughout her body were distracting enough that she knew Leonard’s warm, strong hands would feel like magic on her muscles and she nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“I would love that, thank you.”

Leonard smiled warmly, giving her shoulders one last, gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“You always jump at the chance to take care of others, so I’m happy to return the favor.  I’ll see you at the end of Alpha.”

Christine listened to his footsteps retreat for a few moments and picked up her PADD again, getting back to work.  She finished her charting in no time and with the Beta shift staff beginning to trickle in, she made a quiet escape.  She reached her quarters in no time, keeping busy with tidying up to keep her mind occupied.  With the way her heart was beating nervously in her chest, any distraction was a welcome one.

Having run out of things to tidy, Christine finally took a slow, cleansing breath, shook off her nerves, and went to change her clothes.  She opted for a thin, silken robe, leaving just her panties on underneath.  The robe left little to the imagination and as a knock on the door echoed through her quarters, she found herself feeling less than modest.  

She opened the door with her heart still pounding in her chest, gesturing Leonard inside.  He looked completely at ease and she admittedly felt a little silly for being so up in arms.  She knew he wouldn’t have offered if it was awkward or uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop her getting up in her head about it.

“Why don’t you take off the robe and climb into bed?”  Leonard suggested.  “I’ll give you a minute.”

Christine nodded, making her way into the bedroom.  As she neared her bed, she untied the belt on her robe, pausing with her hands on the lapels for a moment before shrugging the garment off.  She quickly dropped it on a chair near the bed and slid in under the covers, crossing her arms under her head and resting a cheek on them, facing away from the door.  A soft knock on the door jamb a moment later alerted her to Leonard’s presence.

“Come in,” she called.

He entered the room, moving to her bedside, and she realized he’d never seen her quarters before.  He’d always brought her back to his room during their trysts.  It made the whole situation feel even more intimate and she bit her lip a bit, tensing unconsciously as he sat next to her.  

“There’s jojoba oil in the bedside table,” Christine offered, her voice sounding a little strained even to her own ears.

“I brought something a little more soothing,” Leonard murmured softly.  “I hope lavender is alright.”

Christine nodded, stiffening as she felt Leonard’s fingertips slip under the top of her blanket.  Goosebumps sprang up on her shoulders as the cool room air hit her skin and she closed her eyes, waiting for Leonard to finish folding the blanket down around her hips.  She listened to the sound of him uncapping the bottle of massage oil he’d brought with him, inhaling deeply as the soothing scent of lavender washed over her.

She kept still, anticipating the drip of cool oil on her hot skin, but instead she felt Leonard’s hands settle just above her shoulder blades.  They were slick, allowing for an effortless glide as he slowly rubbed them across her back, spreading the oil across every bare inch.

“Relax,” he said quietly, his tone low and calmative.

Christine let out a long, anxious breath, the rise and fall of her chest settling into a more comfortable rhythm as Leonard began to press his fingers into the tightest of knots in her shoulders.  She winced occasionally, shaking her head in spite of Leonard’s concern over the amount of pressure he was using.  As much as it hurt here and there, she knew she needed it, and the spots he’d finished working on felt better already as he moved slowly lower.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain sooner?”  He asked eventually, fingers skillfully kneading at the tension in her lower back.  “I’d have been happy to do this for you days ago if you’d said something.”

“Oh, please, a little aching never killed anyone,” Christine rebutted.  “Though now that the offer is on the table, I might just take you up on it again sometime.”

“There’s nothing that’s off the table for you, Chris,” Leonard assured her.  “You know you can come to me about anything.”

“I know,” Christine agreed.  “But it’s still nice to hear you say it sometimes.”

Leonard chuckled softly, carefully pulling the top half of the blanket up to keep her warm before uncovering her lower half and resuming his ministrations on her thighs instead.

“I’ll make sure to remind you a little more often from now on.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Doctoring December Masterlist

[incarnateirony]

Realizing I’ve been dodging finishing my video project analyzing the show because it’s hitting too close to home right now is a whole fucking emotional roller coaster of its own.

At some point Sam stopped being who I related my issues through and instead who I hoped to be, and who I hoped to have the happy ending I seem to see in the future for him for a sign, whereas at this point I seem to be living too closely through Castiel especially with my wife and her open Deanisms and identifying herself as Dean.

If anyone notices me being off lately, I’m sorry, just uh

My head’s somewhere in the middle of this Jungian disaster.

Read out of that what you will.

yes hello please continue deep diving into your own jungian psychological fustercluck right now no big deal

For those who don’t know me, my life was a battlefield. Ultimately, it set me on strange paths. Fun paths. Exotic paths a lot of people like hearing about. But ultimately, a battlefield, proverbial and at times literal. In fight-or-flight, my instinct is fight-through-flight. I’m old. My gas tank is burned up. My ability to source the will to fight is contingent only on fighting for one person. But it’s wall after endless wall, sometimes even from that one person while they, too, deal with their own issues. Years of fighting for freedom, stopped again and again and again.

Those fumes are running low and sparks burn out quickly. I was so close, yet again, for the umpteenth time, of getting our clean break out of here and then everything got locked down. So now not only am I stuck in this state but now as if to take a highlighter in it I’m stuck in this box in this state. Oh you got literally every possible duck lined up in a row in a fool proof plan, don’t worry, the universe will literally make it impossible on a national level. Maybe tomorrow there’ll be the goddamn national guard keeping me from leaving the bedroom at this point. Who fucking knows. Sleep sounds nice.

Add in knowing the on-set leak from 15.18 and how dangerously applicable it is in many ways -- yes, we all should know, I think, how Dabb will subvert it in 15.20. He has his style and his ways we’ve picked up on by now. But even these characters we’ve come to identify heavily with are stuck in this goddamn quarantine box too. So even that catharsis is trapped in Purgatory. If I’m gonna be stuck at least let me see the boys break out, see Cas yes, surrender when broken, but be lifted out. Let my boys find their heaven and let Sam’s work add up to something, just LET IT HAPPEN ALREADY.

I can’t emphasize enough how much I need 15.20 as stupid as it sounds. Jesus christ let me out of at least ONE of my boxes. Just one. Please. For the love of fuck.

As long as Dabb doesn’t pull a “I’m gonna be coy and nullify everything I’ve done to be SUBVERSIVE” showrunner thing, which doesn’t seem this author room’s intent at all, I have faith in /that/ at least. I don’t have faith in the universe.

Maybe this is why I get so primitively mad at people rooting for failures for ANY of these guys, because I know there’s other people like me living these situations and needing a sign it will be okay. Someone’s dark wants or hatred of a character because it got in the way of XYZ of whatever they wanted in a fandom literally attached to mental health awareness is a whole new level of entitlement. Maybe I’m entitled for wanting something semi-specific too, but I didn’t build those expectations out of air, but out of patterned study of a show’s rhythm well beyond anything I wanted (unless people think I wanted Mary to die and Dean to almost shoot Jack for losing his soul, before it happened -- fuck all the base of THIS video is off of an early-mid S14 spec project I built that’s panning out now just like when I updated Grudge [x]). Maybe it’s entitlement to want a showrunner to complete a storyline stably. I don’t know. But damnit. Hell.

And honestly, if I hear “I need my dark shit for cartharsis” abused one more time in the name of what typically reduces to ship warring I’m going to build the world’s biggest potato launcher canon and sling some fucking flaming doggie doo to your doorstep from here. Because no. If you’re literally attaching psychologically to characters, and then want to see them die miserable, failed deaths, or want to impress death and pain on the people around them, that’s not catharsis. That’s as cathartic as a heroin junkie wanting to see people die of drug overdoses to make it okay for them, too, to do/feel/want it. That’s when you’ve been using it as an excuse, not a healing process. And I’m sorry, that’s the damn fucking truth and I am so goddamn sick of people extorting mental health awareness phrases around here I could puke. And if you’re really looking for this and like, seeking death and failure and permissability to seek surrender as a Great Thing like PLEASE go see someone about that. I’m fully aware I’m coming uncorked in my situation but even I’m not that far gone that I’ve convinced myself that suicide is somehow part of a healing process. Holy shit.

That doesn’t mean it has to turn up rainbows and sunshine either. But jesus christ I’m so over this fandom’s talking points. 

[czeriahshiptank]

I wrote something again...

And it’s not Zelda xD. 

[AO3]

I kinda fell head first in the MDZS fandom (damn handsome chineses.) this Drama as consummed my life. I woke up one day like Dracula in his coffin with the urge to write this thing. The first scene of it wouldn't let me go back to my life.I would like to thanks my BFF to keep up with me through it all, and doing the Beta in this thing. And Vicka (juste because I love you.)

English is not my first language, so if there is any mistakes left, i apologies.

When heaven and earth mingle, Not till then will I part from you

1.

The first time he sees him, he is seating under a tree in the dry garden of the palace. It looks like a painting and it makes him feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. He feels like something has suddenly taken hold of his heart.

It's a warm day of spring and the cherry blossoms are falling all around him. He saw him and suddenly their fall slows, as if gravity doesn’t apply to them, as if time has stopped to give him a chance to look at his perfection.

His gaze, lost in the distance, is as soft as a piece of silk. The long locks of his hair pulled by the light breeze are flying like wisp of smoke around his face. Long robes of blue and off white are spread around him like a lily blooming in the sun.

The man under the tree is holding a book, the pages are being turned by the wind, like the gods themselves wants to spare him the trouble. Wei Ying wonder what it is about. He has never learned to read, or write, but he hopes he would just for a chance to read him poems.

His arms start to ache from the heaviness of his cargo, he is on washing duty, and if the mistress finds him here, watching her son instead of doing his chores, he will be punished. It’s his first day in the Lans property and he can’t lose the opportunity, the rest of the family is counting on him.

That evening, he is sent by the head maid to the young master suit to help him bath. “It’s an honor”, she said, “one that shouldn’t be taken lightly for a young hire like you.”

He makes his way to the young master’s room and announce himself, low but clear. The rules are strict here, and no useless noises should be made.

“Young master, I am here for your bath.”

“Mn.”

He enters, gaze low on the ground, unsure.

“You’re new.” The voice feels like velvet, soothing and patient.

“I’m Wei Ying. It’s my first day.” He stops, unsure if he should say something more, he decides he should bow and adds: “Please, pardon me for any mistake I might commit”

“Mn.”

It takes him a few minutes to draw the bath. The young master is still reading his book, but there is a crease between his brows that he had not noticed earlier.

“Young master. It is ready.”

He helps the man disrobe, taking great care in averting his eyes, and it’s only once he is submerged in the water that the voice of the master resonates again in the silence of the room.

“Lan Zhan.” He looks at the young master’s face, and for the first time, their eyes a looking right at each other.

Something pulls at his heart like the string of an instrument you are painstakingly according to be at the right note. The note is here, but it's not quite right yet, it's still a little loose, a little off key. It exists in the world but it’s ready to be heard yet.

He understands all that is not said. That the young master just allowed him to stay by his side, and that his name is a gift he should take care of. He has no idea what he did for such an honor, but he doesn’t want to disappoint.

He says nothing, and help the young master, Lan Zhan, to climb out of the bath. He then gives him a light gray robe, and he thinks the dark red of the belt looks out of place, and strangely right at the same time as he tight it around his waist.

He walks out of the room after that, and the string sensation around his heart is pulled taut for a second, before loosening again.

**

He is sitting in the garden, studying his classics lesson.

The poem he is reading is about Love. About loss. About longing. He doesn’t understand it.

He is sitting here, his master having told him to find a place of beauty to meditate about the text he is reading.

He put the book on his lap and look at the distance, trying to grasp the meaning of it. He understands the prose of it, but the meaning is out of his grasp.

He adjusts himself in a meditating position. He thinks of the words, of the feeling one might put behind them.

The breeze is picking up, and the flowers are falling, he can feel them landing on his skin.

A minute passes, and the frustration keep flowing through him.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees one of the younger servants, in clean but messy robes, shuffling in the distance, his hair like a cloud of dry weed around his face. He is one of the new hires and he doesn't think he has talked to him yet.  

Something sings in the back of his mind when he sees his face for a second. The melody is at its beginning, and he doesn’t get what the notes are trying to tell him.

The young servant stays on his mind for the rest of the day. He takes great care of meeting each person on staff at the palace and makes sure to ask to be attend by him that evening.

When the knock arrives, right on time, he is quick to allow entrance and observe the young man announcing himself.

His face is young and still juvenile, he imagines him to be around the same age as himself. He can’t stop himself asking the obvious, but wasn't sure how to ask his name any other way, Wei Ying . It rings like the soft sound of a flute, and the song in his head makes itself known once again.

He let the young man to his duty and try to go back to this morning assignment. he thinks he is too young, maybe, to grasp the concepts it’s trying to teach him. the words are here, and he understands, but he can’t seem to feel them.

He is interrupted by the inquiring voice of Wei Ying and stands up to let him get at the million strings that hold his robes. The water is deliciously warm around him, and he doesn’t understand why he feels like there is still like a cord constricting his torso.

He let the silence engulfed him, while Wei Ying washes his hair, and once it’s done, he makes a decision.

“Lan Zhan.” His eyes are looking straight into the servant ones. The silver of his is shining in the low light of the candles.

The cord around his torso loosens once again, he can hear a thrill of notes ringing in his mind and he knows he has made the right choice.

Not long after that, Wei Ying leaves the room, leaving the feel of his hand tying the belt of his night robe in lan zhan’s mind.

He goes to bed, feeling something pulling at his heart as the sound of footsteps recede in the corridor.

The poem sat on his desk, not yet understood, and the song in his head is unfinished.

Nobody remembered why the war had started, but they were the second generation to fight through it.

The battle was not going well. The clouds were dark and stormy, and the ground around them had been wrecked by thunder falling more than once already.

The plain was full of bodies, full of blood and resentment.

He could see, on the other side of the battlefield, the mighty presence of the general Lan. Pristine white armor, covered in droplets of blood, air flying around his face, some caught in the blood spattered on his cheeks.

He knew that, as soon he could see the colors of his eyes, it would be too late to go back. The battle could only finish with one of them dead.

He could hear the sound of the war drums, pulsating like the blood in his veins. Beating like his heart in his ribcage.

The distance between them grew smaller until they were right in front of the other, polar opposites in looks, the white of the Lan against the black of the Wei. The sound of the drum seemed to resonate against the melody in his head. It had been there since he had first seen the white coat of the general.

A weird litany of notes, sad like a lullaby, fleeting like a memory.

The smell of death was overwhelming

He took Suibian from his side, the gleam of the sword shining with the sudden lightning.

“General Lan.”

The golden of the eyes looking at him made his heart stutter. He would be sad to kill such a beauty.

“ Wei Ying”.

He stopped. The beat of the drum deafening around him, he watched the man in front of him climb down his horse and draw his sword, as white and unyielding as him. Time has all but stop around them, until it doesn’t. The clash of weapon was as quick as thunder and as unstoppable as an earthquake. The strength between each pass could have broken a mountain, and each of them made his heart ache a little more.

The music in his head, unfinished, floating in shreds in his memory, was neither here nor there. Like something that could have been…

And then, there was silence, pain like a sudden burn in his chest and tears in his eyes.

“Lan Zhan.”

His last move was to grab the dagger at his side and to plunge it in the neck in front of him, as his other arm grabbed the waist of the man that had just cut his heart in half with his sword.

The smell of blood was everywhere around them, covering them like the red blanket his sister had knitted him last winter.

The music was no more in his head, and the still body against him, the ethereal beauty of the face in front of him was the last thing he saw.

**

This war was not supposed to be his to fight. His brother had promised him that it wouldn’t be. But his brother wasn’t here anymore.

LanXichen was dead, and Lan Wangji was there to avenge him.

The man on the other side of the battlefield wasn’t the one to have kill him, but he would pay for it nonetheless. The beat of the drum was like an encouragement, rhythmic and throbbing through his bones.

Lan Zhan had never wanted to kill anybody. He was a scholar before he was a fighter, but he was the last of his name and he had to avenge his brother.

He made his way on the rhythm of the drums, his horse whining under him, reluctant to go there. The smell of blood was everywhere, and he could understand the reluctance of the beast.

His eyes never strayed from his target the man in black and red, long hair floating in the wind plaited through with red ribbons like rivulets of the blood he had spilled.

Soon, he climbed down from his mount and grabbed Bichen, letting the man knows what was to happen.

The voice soft like silk, calling his name, stopped him in his track.

“ Wei Ying.” He had never known the name of the Wei General. Just his reputation. How…?

And then they were face to face. The grey eyes met his and the time all but stopped. A sudden litany of notes came to him, unbonded to anything, gone almost as soon as they were here.

The sound of the sword clashing was all he could hear, and the gasps of the man in front of him. He was a formidable fighter, that much was clear, but something was wrong.

When the opening came, he didn’t hesitate, and plunged the blade of Bichen in the chest in front of him.

His eyes bore into the silver pupils in front of him, so intent that he didn’t see the dagger going for his throat.

The taste of blood was very much like its smell, metallic and full of sorrow.

He felt himself falling, an arm around his waist, his eyes lost in the gaze of the man in front of him.

At least, he had avenged his brother, and he would die watching something beautiful.

The room is clean, but it smells of death. The bed is made around a lithe body, the sheets tightly pulled around him. The family was rich, but opulence had not protected their youngest son from illness.

He is a last hope, and he know that. He is a priest, and a doctor, he is someone who can either save this man, or make sure he departs physically and spiritually in a good way.

The man in the bed must have been beautiful during his short life, but the last bout of pandemic had taken so many already. His hair falls limp around his emaciated face. He can see how proud he is, even at death’s door. The silver of his eyes gleams in the low light of the room, full of mirth still, even as close to the end as he was.

They both already know he can’t do anything for him.

At the back of his head, the wisp of a song he had never heard before is ringing.

He approaches the bed and sit next to him, refraining of grabbing his hand by fear of contamination. The man looks at him, his eyes clear and full of a recognition he doesn’t understand. His lips open and with his breath escapes a name.

“Lan Zhan.”

How does he know his name? Lan Zhan looked at him with surprise, and before he even can even think of auscultating him, his eyes close and it’s too late.

“Master Wei.” he calls the name the family has given him, but he knows he won’t have any answers. Wei Ying. the name in his thoughts has no origin, but he knows it to be the right one.

He doesn’t understand the sadness that takes him by the throat. He knew he was a last hope. The music in his head has stopped and it’s like a string has snapped in his heart.

He calls for the parents and prepares the last rites.

**

When he sees him enter, he knows it’s too late.

He watches the long figure draped in the gear of a healer. He knows his parents were desperate and had called for the last hope doctor. He doesn’t know his name, but he knows his reputation. And he knows that there is nothing he will be able to do.

He is going to die today.

The man walks next to him and he can finally see his face. In the back of his head rings a melody he doesn’t know and in his heart a string is thrumming.

The face of the doctor is young, and his eyes are so soft and golden, his robes are pristine and flow like water around him. As last thing to see, it’s not a bad one.

Death gives a clarity to the soul and he realizes he doesn’t want to leave the world so soon. It dawns on him that he knows exactly who the man in front of him is. And it’s too late now.

He doesn’t want to die in front of him. He doesn’t want to die again.

From his lips escape a breath, and in his breath the name of this man he doesn’t want to leave behind but who doesn’t know him.

“Lan Zhan”

The last thing he sees is a red string, falling limp on the bed, and golden eyes full of sadness.

 4.

He doesn't know the men he executes. He doesn’t want to know them.

He doesn’t like killing people.

He also doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

The least he could do is respect them. He doesn’t know their circumstances, and the law has been unjust for quite some time in this city, the people in charge finding all kind of reasons to kill people, guilty and innocent alike.

He always treats them with respect, and he always look at them in the eyes until the end. He takes care to take their last wish before killing them and pronounce the last words after.

He watches him walk toward him. Tall, handsome, clearly of noble birth. His hair is long and his face is hard. His golden eyes make his soul sing in a way it has never happened before. Their eyes meet and there is a recognition in his heart.

The two guards make the man fall on his knees facing the crowd and turn toward him.

“Executioner Wei.”

He sees the back of the man tense at his name and his throat is constricting. He takes a few steps and crouched next to him, looking at his profile. The man looks right in front of him, his golden orbs never wavering from the horizon.

“Last wish?”

His eyes close at the sound of his voice, like he takes pleasure at hearing it. His lips form a sentence.

“Make it quick, Wei Ying.”

He doesn’t know this man, but he knows him. He nods, trying not to think of his name between his lips. There is nothing he can do. He takes a step back and watch helplessly the guard push the man on the execution table in front of him, fast and hard against the hardwood. He can’t do anything to save him. His eyes are fixed on him and there is almost a smile on his face, as if he is happy to watch his own death coming by his hands. It’s too late.

In his head the music is deafening. He doesn’t know any song, so he doesn’t know where does that come from, but he can hear it as clear as day.

He grabs the axe, his eyes fixed on the golden ones of the man, and as quick as he can, he let it drop.

Clean, quick, and full of sorrow. He says the words, the shape of a name that he didn’t know a few minutes ago in his mouth is like a sting. He cleans his weapon, and from the corner of his eyes, he thinks he see a limp red string on the floor, but it might just be the blood.

That night, after all light has gone dark, he left the city with just a small pack. He never comes back.

On his back, a sword named Hanguang is shining.

He never kills again.

**

He knew he shouldn’t have gone against the master of this city. But he was a warrior, a cultivator. He was a man of justice.

He was Hanguang-jun, second jade of his family.

His brother will be devastated, if he ever learns of what happened.

There would be war.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. He had done his duty and saved the innocents. He was ready to die for his cause.

As he was brought up to the execution place, he could hear a faint murmur of protest in the crowd, and he hoped nobody else would die today.

A sharp slap behind his knees makes him fall in front of the man who will kill him today. He doesn’t know him, he doesn’t know his name, but he knows his reputation. The other in the cells yesterday has told him that he was a merciful one. Always making sure everything was quick and that the words were said.

He was glad.

And then, he knew his name. Executioner Wei. Wei Ying . He had no idea where it had come from, but a warm melody was slowly making his way in his thoughts. It was soothing and soft, like a lullaby, full of longing and sadness and hope and…

He keeps his eyes on the horizon. He can see the other man slowly crouched next to him, his voice like honey falling into his ears, slotting itself in the song in his head as if it has always belonged there.

“Last wish.” To see you again, He doesn't say, to come back to you, he hopes. “Make it quick, Wei Ying.” he finally settles on.

He knows the other one is surprised. He doesn’t know where the name come from, but he knows it’s the right one.

The rest of it is quick as lightning. The push of the guards on his back, the hardness of the wood, the smell of sandalwood. The warmth and sadness in clear grey eyes.

The last thing he sees is the red string of blood between the two of them, and the last note of music in his head.

Autumn was crisp and cold this year and the grey clouds of rain were low on the horizon. Between them, you could sometime see the sun falling like a drape on the red and brown leaves of the trees.

The railway station was on top of a hill. It was a curious place for a train to stop but the city around it had developed in a strange way, the area full of swamps.

There were 4 docks, next to each other and linked by underground passages for the travelers to cross safely. On the horizon, you could see the river, like a long silver snake in the morning light.

Lan Zhan has always loved this place. The serenity of the atmosphere, the bustling energy of the travelers. it was a place of new beginnings, and of sad endings.

He liked sitting here for inspiration. For a few months now, he had been plagued by a melody which he couldn’t seems to put onto paper. The notes were fleeing him like oil slipping on water, there, but out of his reach.

Autumn was a beautiful season, but he had always preferred winter. The silver colors of the atmosphere was like a memory from a long time ago. Sometimes, he could see the flash of eyes the exact color of the sky just before the snow, surrounded by hair like black branches of dead trees. His dreams were full of reds and this morning he had again awoken with the taste of blood in his mouth and tears in his eyes.

But the station was quiet, and it’s all he needed. His morning train was to arrive at exactly 8.45, but he always took care to arrive forty-five minutes early, just enough time to enjoy the calm of the atmosphere.

On the other side of the dock he was seating on, he could see people coming and going. Families, students, men in suits with an air of importance.

“Shiije! I’m going to miss you so much! Don’t marry the peacock!”

The loud voice in the quiet atmosphere startled him. It has a sound he felt he had already heard, slow and sweet like a drop of honey but with the crispness of lemon tea. A perfect drink for this weather.

A thrill of notes came to his mind and he wrote them on his notepad for safekeeping.

“A’Xian, don’t be so dramatic.”

The voice sounded a lot closer suddenly, and he looked up to see a tall man hugging a woman on the opposite side of the dock.

He had long hair falling from a ponytail attached with a blood red ribbon. Lan Zhan couldn’t see his face…

“Wei Ying.” His voice just a murmur. A name for a man he didn’t know. He feels a tug on his heart, almost painful, and full of longing.

And then, a slow as death, a train filled his vision and he couldn’t see him anymore.

He hopes, for a second, that it was the woman who would climb in it, but when the train had left, the other side was painfully empty.

What feels like an eternity later, his own train arrives, and quits the railway station in the opposite direction.

**

Waking up early was not something Wei Ying apreciates on a normal day. And now he was bringing his sister to get prepared for her wedding. To someone he didn’t like.

What a sad day.

The weather was obviously in agreement with him, being all cloudy and cold and the way to the train station was long and crowded.

He was not made for mornings.

He and his sister lived quite far away from each other, and even more from where the wedding had to take place. It had been a logical solution to meet in a middle point and then go together to their final destination.

It was now almost 8.30, he had finally found his sister in this unknown place and he could complain all he wanted.

Bliss.

“Shijie! I’m going to miss you so much! Don’t marry the peacock!”

He takes his sister in his arm, her small stature engulfed in his arms.

“A’Xian, don’t be so dramatic”

He wept dramatically for a second, making her laugh at his antics. He loves his sister so much!

Just as he let her go, he’s hearing the sound of a train coming to the station, from the corner of his eye, he can see someone seating on the other side of the dock watching him.

He has a song in his head now.

Jiang Yanli is getting out of his arms to grab her bag on the floor. “Come A’Xian, let find our seats”.

They climb in the car closest to them and, luckily, find their seats pretty quickly, Wei Ying fall on the seat closer to the window, and once again, his eyes are drawn to the figure, all alone, sitting on a bench outside.

Long dark hair falling on his shoulder, looking right in front of him, where Wei Ying had been just moments ago.

“Lan Zhan.” The name is a whisper, and his eyes opened in shock. The sound of his heart resonates on the rythm of the music in his head.

And it’s already too late and the man in front of him is getting smaller on the horizon and it’s like something is pulling so hard at his heart it could leap from his chest.

In front of him, his sister looks at him with a curious expression.

“A’xian?”

“...nothing Shijie. I... I just have a song in my head…”

+1

The coffee shop is as empty as his soul. It’s quiet, and full of classical music, a soft rythm stuck in his head since that strange morning almost a year ago.

The ache in his heart is getting stronger by the day, never reaching the initial tug that had him almost hurl in the middle of the train on his shijie’s lap on that day, but it’s never ending. Like a bruise that you would constantly poke and prod to check if it still hurt.

His eyes are hollowed by the lack of sleep, his head is swimming with notes of a music he has never heard before.

He feels miserable. His joints hurts, as if he was restraining himself from movement, day after day, as if something was trying to drag him somewhere he couldn't go, and he had to resist with all the strength in his body.

He was growing weaker, and he didn't know what the end of this would be.

Strangely, that didn’t stop him from living his life, the ache almost like a phantom pain in a limb that couldn’t see anymore. like a part of him was missing.

The doctor he had went to see had talked about chronic pain, and depression, so many words that could explain, but not explain what was going on with him.

In his dream, he could see the face of strangers, always different, but somehow when he woke up, he knew they were the same person. Someone that some part of him was missing and he was looking for him in everybody that crossed his way.

He could see the golden eyes of the stranger on the train station, he had felt the recognition in the depth of his bones.

“Still mooning about your stranger?”

Wen Qing’s voice was like a summer rain cracking after a long and hot day. Soothing, in her weird way, but scorching against his own brand of spleen.

“How can I moon over someone I don’t know, A’Qing.”

“You seem to manage well so far. Don’t sell yourself so short.”

He had told her everything that had happened, she knew all about the dream, the song that he couldn’t seem to get out of his head, of the strangers with all the different same faces. She had endured the cry in the middle of the night, after another nightmare.

“You really should go and see granny.”

“Still on your weird idea that it has something to do with a past life? it’s just me dealing with Shijie’s wedding in a weird way A’Qing. Not the beginning of a weird fairytale…”

He felt more than he heard her sigh. There was a long pause and then, he saw her from the corner of his eyes taking off her apron.

“Anyway, my shift is finished, Good luck for closing, take care of my brother.”

“Of course, A’Qing.”

He turned his face toward the front and got lost again in the music in his head.

“See you later, Wei Ying!” Said her voice, but it was lost in the face outside of the café.

**

When he was a child, his brother always read him stories from differents origins to make him sleep. He had started with the classics from the Chinese mythology, and as the years has gone, he had started delving into the Japanese, the Celts, and then the Greeks.

But one that has always stuck to Lan Zhan, was the Greek myth about soulmates.

“Humans”, had started Xichen, his voice soft and full of suspense, “were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces.”

Touching his own face with wonder and his eyes wide open, Lan Zhan was full of questions. “Xichen gege, how…?”

“The story is not about their life like that, little one, because Zeus, fearing their powers, decided to split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

And little Lan Zhan had cried.

He remembered the feeling of loss that had seeped into him at the words, the realization that something had been missing. A realization too big for his little six-year-old mind.

He had cried until he couldn't anymore, the soothing words of his brother washing over him like water, but never liberating him of the weight that had grabbed his heart that day.

By the next morning, most of the sadness had disappeared, but he had never forgotten the hollowness he had felt.

And then time, as it always does, had soothed the sorrow and replaced it with curiosity. He had a song in his head, one that he couldn’t find anywhere else. It was a melody, sometimes full of sadness but also full of the thrill of a new life.

So he had started to learn music. He had wanted a way to write these notes forever, to get them immortalized. It had been two years since he had started working on it, writing on every surface he could find, and one year since the dreams had started.

He dreamt of blood, of sorrow, of quiet time in a garden, of a face full of mirth, and grey eyes piercing his skull. He had dreamt of wars and illness, of red ribbons in hair of darkness and…

One year since he had seen this face, the one of a stranger he knew by heart. He could still hear the voice, still feel the laughter in his bones. The tug on his heart had felt so real when the train had disappeared of his view. The hollowness of that night, so long ago now, had come back, all at once.

After that, he had dreamt of a man of many same faces. Always the same, but each one different.

And now he was walking in a city, looking for nobody but still watching each face with hope.

He walked for a long time, aimlessly, watching around him the light of the city tuning on like millions of sprites. The tug on his heart was getting stronger and he had half a mind to just let it lead wherever it wanted.

Suddenly it stopped.

His hand flew to his chest, looking for the slow ache that was his constant companion for so long. A movement on his right, the sound of a voice he thought he knew. A young woman leaving a café, and a name.

“See you later, Wei Ying!”

He entered the café.

**

It was his face, and it wasn’t. It was all the men from his dreams, the sum of their faces, never the same exactly, but always the same eyes. He could see all of them, until he couldn’t see anything anymore.

Two eyes of molten gold, looking at him like nothing else in the world existed.

He was so far away, and then he was right in front of him.

He didn’t know this man, but he had known him in thousands of different lifetimes. He had forgotten his name until he hadn’t.

“Lan Zhan.”

The words flew like air from his mouth. He could feel the heaviness of his eyes, the tears flowing on his face, the tug at his heart.

He could only see blood and gold, and white and blue, and black and red, and the silence of music in his mind was deafening.

**

Lan Zhan had always liked puzzles. His brother had given him one for each his birthdays for as long he could remember.

He loved seeing the image getting clearer and clearer. The sense of accomplishment finishing it could give him. He loved finding a place for each piece, mending the photograph etched on it. Making whole of what had been a broken mess.

His life had been a mess, and he had finally found the lost piece that could weave it all together again.

He was all of them, all those he had lost, and everything he had never found. He was the breeze on a summer day, the gentle rain in autumn.

He could see the silver of his eyes, the black of his hair, the red of his apron, and the white of the cup that was clenched into his palm. He breathed.

He took a step, then another. The string around his heart tightening. He reached across the counter, wanting to touch and afraid that it would crush the dream.

And then he heard it, and he could only respond.

“Wei Ying.”

Their hands were hovering, wanting to touch without knowing why. Knowing the person in front of them without having seen them before in this life.

Their skin touched, and like electricity, it traveled all through them. he took the cup from his hands and the porcelain against the counter resonated like a drum in his heart. Without his consent, his hands cradled the face of the man in front of him, eyes never leaving his.

And then Lan Zhan kissed him.

  我欲与君相知，                                     I want to be your love for ever and ever,

 长命无绝衰。                                              Without break or decay.

      山无陵，                                               When the hills are all flat,

      江水为竭，                                            The rivers are all dry.

      冬雷震震，                                           When it thunders in winter,

       夏雨雪 ，                                              When it snows in summer

               天地合，                                              When heaven and earth mingle,

        乃敢与君绝！                                       Not till then will I part from you.

God! 《上邪》(Han Dynasty)

Extra :  - Three years later-

They decided on a spring wedding.

They had looked for a while for the perfect venue, stopping their choices on a classic Chinese dry garden, under the branches of a old tree.

The cherry blossoms were raining and the day was perfect. The drums in their heart beating in unison.

Yanli had taken her time to tie their hair, shaping the long locks into pieces of art, weaving lilies in them instead of complex hairpieces. Their robes were the traditional red, flowing around them like flowers blooming. Embroidery of lotuses and chrysanthemums decorating their over robes in threads of gold and silver.

They couldn’t stop smiling.

The had insisted on a handfasting ceremony, the red string delicately interviewing their hands, linking them for all eternity.

The time has all but stopped, the light music of the guqin and dixi floating in the air like a promise of forever.

They had found their missing piece, and the puzzle was complete