#ah well. i'll cross that bridge when i get there

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

"It is done, my Champion. When this world comes to heel, you will be my blade in the dark. Together we will remind mortals why they once feared the night."

Guess who just finished Mordremoth's Fang the other night. :)

[lilmashae]

*ੈ♡‧₊˚paper thin (walls) — s.jy

cw: oral (f), unprotected sex, roommate!jake, pet-names, some plot sprinkled here and there, NOT PROOFREAD, smut (so 18+)

a/n: hi! if you're coming back to this post // revisiting and wondering, "is something different?" it is! i've decided that for longer fics (such as this one) i'll be using a larger font to contribute to the readers experience reading. thank you for the feedback everyone!

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"fuck, fuck, fuck! ah — r-right there,"

"yeah?"

"c'mon, c'mon... oh, fuck!"

you'd lost count — how long has it been? too long. how many girls have come in (and out) of his room in the last week? too many — jake must be insatiable, the 'hook-ups' must be never ending. never ending as in the loud "noise" would never end, and you'd never get any proper sleep.

"look who's finally awake!"

"go fuck yourself."

" 'ouch! that's no way to greet your favorite roommate."

"you're my only roommate, asshole."

"i know." jake hummed contently with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and you scoffed, " 'you like hoeing around? don't you have any hobbies?"

" 'love it," he paused, "nope. 'don't think so."

nope? no? damn right, the way those girls scream and cry out, it's a sport — a work out, a job, even. several girls would come in and out of your shared apartment, each of them having a different reaction to your presence. jake's type seemed to vary, bimbos and uptight, good girls, drunken sorority bitches to gothic, edgy ones. you began to wonder if he'd just do anything to get his dick wet. "right, well, i have a date tonight."

"so?" resting his head in his hand, jake batted his eyelashes.

"so, 'place's mine." if you were paying him any attention, you would have noticed the pout spread on his lips. "but, y/nnie— " the nickname makes you sick, you roll your eyes. "no buts! tonight y/nnie's 'gonna get laid." mockingly, you reply in a condescending tone, "booping" his nose before waltzing back into your room.

it's not that you and jake didn't get along—you two wouldn't have moved in together if that was the case. but even in highschool, before you two began living together he always had a habit of picking up strangers. "you're too nice, jake." you told him one time while walking home and he shrugged. " 'you think so?" he watched you nod as the two of you strode alongside one another. "yeah." blatantly, you mumbled under your breath. you'd always remembered that evening—insignificant as it may be. and it may have been because later that night you swore you saw jake sneak out with some girl, a big smile on his face as he waved up to you from your window. all you could do was roll your eyes, but as you walked away from the window-seal and into your bed, you somewhat wished he'd call you to go out instead.

"jake..." you walked out of your room, searching around for the tall australian. "jake," you walked up to his door, knocking once. no answer. twice, still, no answer. a third time—the last time before barging into his room. "ja—are you serious?" you deadpan. "where are your clothes, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"you're so mean, y/n. it feels like you always want me gone." he sighs, one hand (holding a towel) tangled in his hair still drying it as he sits down. "no... but, as of now, yes... i have a date." your voice sounded a bit more whiny than you had intended. "a date, or a hook-up?" jake laughed, looking up at you from his seat. "oh please, you have girls over all the time. i think it's fine for me to get laid for once."

"so you want me to leave... so you can fuck some guy?" he pauses. "for once?"

"i don't know, jake. yeah, maybe." you cross your arms and pinch the bridge of your nose. "why'd i have to leave? you're always here when i—"

"that's not the point, that's different and you know it."

"how, 'you shy or something?" it's not that, of course you're not "shy". but you'd feel guilty getting off with jake in the other room—and, sure, you've done it before; you've listened to him fuck at least a hundred girls, wishing it was you. you've also listened to him whine and stroke his dick painfully slow, debating whether or not you should barge in and drop to your knees. "no, jake. i'm not shy." you pick a shirt up off of his floor throwing it at him, as it covers his head and he laughs. "i think you are." jake gets up, walking towards you with a smirk on his face.

"am not."

"are... too." he's closer.

"no, i'm not."

"no?"

"no."

"prove it." your breath hitches in your throat—your faces are inches apart, you can feel his breath on your lips. swallowing thickly, you pout. "how..?" it's more of a whisper, and you find yourself leaning allowing him to lean into your lips. "jake," one of your hands rest on his chest as he has you caged between his arms. "my date..." "cancel it, yeah?" he whispers against your lips, crashing into them. they're pillowy and soft—his lips are just how you imagined, plush and full. "mhm," a muffled moan escaped your mouth as you feel jake's hands travel down your body, one hand cupping your cheek and the other pawing at your side. when he finally pulls away the only thing connecting the two of you is a string of saliva. "you're a pretty good kisser." he huffs, chuckling and you nod. "yeah, you're not bad." you mutter and he pulls you back in, this time his tongue swipes over your bottom lip before entering your mouth.

the hand that was once gently cupping your cheek moved to roughly unbutton your pants as he picked you up. "ah!" a small yelp left through your lips as he lifted you up, feeling his bulge through the wet spot in your underwear only made you squirm and whine into the kiss. "s'sensitive, hm, baby?" "shut up..." he sits you down on his bed, kisses still trailing down your body: from your mouth, cheek, and your neck—wet, sticky trails of spit coated your collarbones and stomach by the time he reached your core. "jake, c'mon, please." you whimpered watching as he continued to tease you, playing with the waist of the thin fabric.

finally, the path of kisses lead to your hip and then right-over your clit (which made you shiver). " 'smell so good, y/n." his nose prods at your clit as he loops his fingers under the material to play with your arousal. " 'been waiting so long to taste..." and those are his final words before diving into your cunt—moaning into your heat as his tongue laps over your folds. "f-fuck! y-you've been, ah! 'been waiting, jakey?" and he hums, sending waves of pleasure throughout your abdomen—a sigh of relief when his lips latch onto you, sucking and drooling. but right when you feel the knot in your stomach about to snap—"shit," you hiss. "n-no, jake, please." he pulls away. "s'okay sweetheart, 'want you to cum 'round my cock, princess, 'kay?" nodding feverishly, you sat up straight puling your shirt over your head and pulling jake into you by his sweatpants. "someone's eager." he smiled against your lips and you nipped at his bottom lip, bruising the soft pink skin. "well i was planning to get laid," you pause, "for once." now you've done it—you've got him riled up, and the same for him.

he knew you could hear him every-night, fucking girl after girl, after all, your apartments walls are paper thin. jake just wondered how long it'd take, or if he'd have to lure you into his bed another way. any how, it was worth it, you were worth the effort—being able to claim your sweet cunt as his own, that was worth it.

"fuck, you're so tight... 'relax f'me, cutie." jake groaned in your ear aligning himself with your sopping hole before pushing in. "you're so perfect, fucking pretty..." he kissed away the tears streaming down your eyes. the way he jerked himself before dipping his tip into your slick drove you feral (and so did the sight of his pink leaking tip)—the stretch provided alone was enough to make you want to cum on his cock, but the way he praised you made you want to hold out. with each thrust jake hit deeper and deeper, causing you to moan wildly, "fuck, m-more, more, more!" and, "please... i can take it,"'s echoing off of his bedroom walls. you feel just as good as he imagined, all those nights he'd spend jerking off couldn't compare to this one bit. "fuck, i'm 'gonna cum if you squeeze me like that, y/n."

"do it! please, cum inside..." and that only pushes him to give you more. " 'such a good girl, y/n... fuck! 'made for my cock, 'want me to cum, make you my girl, for real?"

"yes, yes, please, your girl, jake!" the aching feeling in your lower-body is satisfied as copious spurts of white coat your insides. "s'warm..." you huff out and jake giggles. "i'm a pretty good fuck, right? 'fucked you dumb?" your arms wrap around him and you plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "shut up, don't ruin the moment."

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guidelines and disclaimers! this took me like 4 days... so too fucking long 😭 anyways she's cute i like her !! i'm sorry if it's a lil lengthy ml

[selarina]

The waves rush in, swallowing your feet whole. You feel the cold tingling sensation as it sits there for a moment, and then it retreats - back into the ocean.

You try to focus on the sounds as you stand there — the waves, the wind, the distant sound of a bird. You try to tune out the laughter that comes from behind you.

And you think this is nice. Almost too nice that it feels sad — the waves come back in, bestowing a parting kiss upon your feet, as you start thinking of retreating back to your room.

As you turn, you see him, his white hair and floral shirt fluttering against the harsh wind as he stands unmoved.

But in your pivot, your gaze lands upon him. Gojo Satoru, his white locks dancing against the wind, floral shirt rippling away from his body, yet his body stands so still and unmoving.

"We should go back in," his voice carries over the wind. "Came to save you in case you drowned. You know, like the charming hero I am."

"Ah," You indulged in the moment, as you feigned a swoon, jumping yourself into his arms, and he catches you without missing a beat. "How about you save me by carrying me back to my room?" His embrace a seamless cradle, made just for you.

"Well, every hero needs his lazy damsel in distress," he grins, as he looks down at you, his glasses slipping down the slope of his nose by a bit.

Your hand comes up to push his glasses up, until it stills close to the bridge of his nose. "Just be lucky you get a pretty one, what with your ugly face," you say.

"Hey! I'm plenty handsome," he practically whines. "You wouldn't get jealous all the time if I wasn't," as he adjusts his hand one more time before he starts trekking back in the path to your rooms.

"I wouldn't get jealous if you didn't parade yourself away so often," you roll your eyes, thinking back to the incident of schoolgirls fawning and pawing at him from a day earlier.

"I can't help who I am, and what kind of person wants their boyfriend to change." It's true, but you opt for crossed arms as you pout away.

You two finally make it back to your room, you don't try to point out how he could have made it back by transporting the two of you with one snap, you just cocoon yourself further into his bare chest, your hand tracing the occasional patterns on his chest.

He drops you when you get to the front of your room, as he mutters a goodnight, his head clearly looming in a place away from you.

Your hand comes up to grab his hand, and he looks back at you.

"What's wrong?" he asks, worry etched in his features, even as his eyes remain hidden from your view.

"You should sleep," your voice comes into a gentle plea. "You've been awake for far too long."

"I'm not tired, and I need to stay awake," he says, resolute as you expected.

"You can sleep for the night. I'll keep watch," you suggest.

"No, it's too dangerous, I should stay awake until we make it back."

A huff of exasperation escapes you. Your hand cups his cheek firmly, eliciting a near-pout from him at your grip. "Gojo Satoru, do you think I'm weak? Nod if you think I am."

His head shakes in a silent refusal.

"Then I can handle the night, and you should sleep. You'll feel better. Stronger," the final blow, finds its mark, and his defenses crumble.

"I want to," he says softly.

A beat passes.

"I can't sleep," his words emerged in a quiet mumble.

Ah, that makes sense. He's too stressed. As were you, but you found your moments of respite, feeling reassured as by the sight of him seated at the windowsill, keeping a discerning eye on over the world outside.

"Okay," you murmured, your hands relinquishing their hold on his face, fingers instead interlocking with his, drawing him toward your room.

"Wait— not tonight, baby. I'm too tired," he mumbles, tiredly. "Not that," you reassure. "I'll help you fall asleep," you pledge. A promise.

You let him plop himself onto the bed, you don't miss how he flops his head as he snuggles himself into the sheets.

You settle against the headboard, as your reach for his glasses, placing it onto the nightstand. . Your gaze returns to him, and there, amidst the ambient dimness of the room, you find his bright blue aglow, fixed upon the ceiling.

Your fingers extend, and with a gentleness traverse across his face, as they close his eyes.

"I don't know what you're thinking," he mumbles.

Your hand comes up to nestle in his hair, running and gently scratching patterns in random. You offer a soft amused hum, imploring him to continue.

"I'm not that easy, you know," he says, as he nuzzles further into the pillow. "I won't sleep."

"Right," you say.

You continue running your little patterns as you start to feel a bit bored yourself, and then you hear it — his first snore. A quiet grin curves your lips.

[silverskye13]

"Do you believe in the gods, Pix?"

The archeologist chuckles, and continues adjusting measurements on his hologram projector. "You trying to convert me, Joel?"

The god of Stratos waves his hand dismissively, and though Pix isn't looking at his face, he can almost feel an the eye roll as clouds briefly wink over the sun. "Obviously you believe in me. If you didn't, we wouldn't be talking right now."

"Ah."

"I mean the old ones. You know." Joel waves a hand vaguely the direction of the ruined capital. "The absent ones."

Pix pauses in his work to turn and look past the bridge. The burnished gold of the tip of one of the angel's wings is all he can see over the hillside gates, but he knows the goddess is there. He memorized every curve and angle of that monument when he'd found it. It was... An impressive statue. He turns back to his projector and keys in a few more measurements, trying to get the height of the road just right.

"I don't know."

"Oh. Well I suppose you wouldn't." Joel shrugs at Pix's questioning glance. "You're human."

There is a moment where they're silent. Pix works keys a few buttons, adjusting the placement of his projection, and Joel watches, arms crossed like a sentinel. He doesn't help Pix. Not really. Joel isn't really that kind of god. He bestows gifts and blessings, but he reserves his hands for his people and his whims. But Pix didn't invite the god here to build. He doesn't mind reconstructing this old capital by himself. Joel does, however, grunt disapprovingly every time Pix places the structure wrong, and flick his eyes a little to the left, and Pix takes the hint and adjusts the hologram in that direction.

"You wanna know what I think?" Pix says, setting the hologram in its final place and taking a few steps back to observe it.

"You think?" The god chuckles, and when he does, distant thunder rumbles.

"I think more than you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I think worshipping the world is the closest we can get to an omniscient god." Pix finishes the thought before they can devolve into ribbing each other. It's fun to bicker with Joel, but that's not where Pix is going with this conversation.

Joel cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. "You don't think I'm omniscient?"

"Would you ask me this stuff if you were, oh all-knowing god of storms and things?"

"Sky god," Joel corrected. "Touché, little history man. So, you worship the world, then?"

"Everything we do leaves a footprint," Pix tells him. He adjusts his hologram just a bit to the left again. Joel nods at him almost unconsciously. Pix stops fiddling and starts playing shulkers, preparing to build. He's going to finish this bridge today. "The earth records these footprints. It's the nature of things that change, that they hold impressions of what changed them."

Pix gestures to the rock slide that cuts off one side of his hologram. "This gate used to carve right through this hill. Even though this side has collapsed, and erosion has eaten the side, beneath that rubble, there are cobblestones someone laid by hand. Maybe they were slaves, or skilled craftsman, but regardless they existed. The lived a full life, whatever that meant for them, they spoke to people they loved, ate their favorite foods when they were sad, and one day, they died. Bones turn to dust, epitaphs fade, but that builder's hands still touched those cobblestones."

The god of Stratos watches the hologram with a new and open curiosity. He reaches out a massive hand and places it gently on the particles of light, as though he could touch the recreation. Instead, his fingers dip through the projection, making long flickering shadows in the light field, distorting the image like rain on a glassy lake. It's almost comical watching the massive god be so gentle and reverent, especially over something so inconsequential as a bridge piece.

"So is this how you worship the world, then?" Joel asks quietly. "By helping it remember what it's forgotten?"

There is something loaded in the words. Pix looks up at the god, and he remembers signs underneath a floating city as citizens gently remind their god they love him, and they need him. He thinks of temples to gods whose names have passed out of history, floating amidst a living city made by a god who has no temple built. Not yet.

Pix doesn't know what to say, so he opts to say nothing, instead reverently laying out his tools on the bridge like precious gifts on an altar. The two don't talk. Pix begins laying stones for a new foundation, and Joel watches thoughtfully, not seeing the world in front of him. They finish the bridge.

[loner4-life]

(Ok, so, I've had this thing in my idea list for a while, so here me out, this video of Sam Winchester right?)

(What if it's kirishima?)

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Past the Limit

Wc: 1.1 k

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You loved Kirishima you TRULY did with all your heart, but he never knows how to turn down a bet. Especially when it came from Kaminari.

♡

You had been peacefully enjoying your day off from your agency, you couldn't remember the last day you had off just one of the wonderful things about being a pro hero.

The only thing that could've made your day better was your boyfriend here with you. You and Kirishima rarely had days off together so you couldn't help but be irritated that he wasn't there with you.

It seemed like you too barely spent time together anymore. However, he would be home soon and that made things a little better.

You found yourself searching in the kitchen for something to cook for dinner when you heard the door click. Your head turned embarrassingly fast towards the door as you smiled.

“You're home!” you said happily as you hurried to the door and hugged kirishima tightly. “Woah! Hey baby” he said as he caught you. “I missed you” you sighed as you looked up at him.

“I missed you too,” Kirishima said as he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead before taking off his gear by the doorway. “So how was your day?”

You asked as you walked back over to the kitchen, Kirishima following after you as he got his boots off.

“pretty slow honestly” he hummed as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Sorry to hear that…I was just about to start dinner” you said with a smirk as you approached him, taking his hands in your own, “and maybe afterwards we can made the day a little more…interesting”

You purred as you leaned in close but noticed his guilty face and a lack of response. “ah…about that baby..” kirishima said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You sat back up as you looked at him wondering if you did something wrong. But judging by his mannerisms you realized he was the one who fucked up.

“What did you do?” you asked with a groan. “Kaminari and I made a bet…” he said after a moment. “About what?” You asked as you stood and crossed your arms.

“Well we were just talking, then he got an idea that we should see how long we can last without uhm” he paused as he grabbed your hips “indulging y'know?” You stared blankly at him.

“So we can't fuck because of a bet with kaminari?” You asked, slight frustration in your tone. “He said if I won he'd do my paperwork for 2 weeks and if I lost I'd do his” He said quickly in a meek tone sensing your irritation.

You groaned as you pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers “fine whatever” you said as you walked back to the kitchen.

“Babyyyy” he said as he walked after you “I'm sorry” he said as he leaned against the counter.

“It's fine dear” you said softly, his blood running cold. “I'll break you within a week” you said calmly as you smiled at him as you got ready to cook dinner.

“Set the table for me?” You said sweetly with deceiving doe eyes. He gulped with a nod “of course”

♡

Over the next 2 days you were relentless. You tease him through the house, and while on patrols. Any opening you had you took it. Yet somehow it wasn't enough, 5 days passed and you had gotten nothing from him.

Miraculously for the first time in 2 months the both of you happened to get a saturday off together and you'd be damned if you were gonna waste it.

When you woke up Saturday morning you rolled over and leaned in close to pepper kisses on Kirishima's neck. you hummed softly as your hand trailed across his chest.

He stirred in his sleep before his eyes opened slowly, a grin grew on his face as he grabbed you hand gently off his chest before kissing the back of your hand followed by one on your forehead before he whispered, “nice try sweetheart”

He teased as he sat up, “how bout I make us breakfast” he said as he got out of bed, his muscles teasing you as he stretched before walking to the doorway before looking back at you.

“Don't worry, kaminari will crack any day now, I know it” he said with a nod as he walked away. You watched him disappear down the hall before huffing in frustration as you fell back on the bed.

“Kaminari’s dead when I catch him” you muttered to yourself as you got out of bed as well.

After a whole day of your usual teasing, you reached a point of giving up, kirishima sat on the couch to turn it on a movie for the two of you as you shut the dishwasher from dinner “What do you wanna watch baby?”

He asked as he grabbed the remote. “I don't know..I kinda just want to go to bed” you mumbled as you walked up behind the couch as you trailed your nails along the back of his neck.

“Oh..” He said quietly as he followed you with his eyes as you stood in front of him. “I'll probably take care of myself tonight..seeing as you don't want to.” you said as you looked at him pathetically.

His eyes went wide “of course I do!” He said quickly. “doesn't feel like it,” you said softly as you got closer to him before climbing into his lap. “you've been ignoring me all week…” you cooed as you leaned in close, your lips centimeters away from his.

He hesitated for a moment, seemingly leaning in to return the kiss before turning away at the last moment.

You leaned in close to his ear. “and that's not very manly of you..” you whispered in his ear. All restraint snapped in him as he perked his head back to face you.

He leaned in before grazing his teeth along your neck, making you shiver. “You know just how to rile me up…” he murmured.

he quickly kissed you, his hands cradling your head as nipped you bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you again desperately.

His arm swiftly grabbed under you thigh before pulling you into his lap. “Eiji~..” you said softly as he pulled away.

Safe to say, kaminari won the bet for once.

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- had to get that outta my system 🙏

[hopefuloverfury]

Elliott Scrap 🦀

Elliott being a smitten man, as usual. Fem!Farmer, she/her pronouns. No other warnings necessary. I'll find a place for this scene eventually.

Elliott’s boots thunk softly against the stone bridge leading into town, his route illuminated by warm yellow light. He looks up at the rusty lamp posts, his breath puffing out into clouds of vapor in front of his face. It’s two days into Spring already, but frost still clings to the emerald green grass framing the cobblestone path, and Elliott tucks his nose low into the collar of his jacket.

The windows of the saloon burn a fiery orange, and Elliott picks up his pace. After hours of staring at ink on half-empty pages, and with no solace found in the sounds of waves kissing the shore outside of his home, he needs a distraction.

Tied to a post outside of the saloon is a horse, its ears flicking back and forth as it grazes on the overgrown grass breaking through the cement. Its coat is dusty brown, with a dark brown mane, and a very new looking saddle strapped to its back. 

The horse picks its head up, sensing his presence. Its ears flick again, and if Elliott knew anything about horses, he might say it looks curious. He doesn’t though, so he walks past without a second glance, and up the steps.

He pushes the door open. It’s not a slow night by any means, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the cheery jingling of the bell above the door as Elliott pushes inside. The warmth from the fireplace hits him square in the face, and he relishes the way it melts the chill settled into his bones. Gus looks up to greet him, and Elliott knows it’s more out of habit than anything else. Just standard, to welcome a guest.

Elliott looks around, expecting to see Leah at their usual table next to the jukebox, but surprisingly, she’s nowhere to be seen. He frowns, resigning himself to a night of drinking alone, when something catches his attention.

The farmer stands alone at the bar, loosening the strap of her shoulder guard. 

The last time he saw her was at his shack on the beach, two weeks ago. He’d poured his heart out into a heap on the floor of his shack, and she carefully placed every piece back into his palms. She’d been wearing overalls and brown work gloves, with steel-toed boots and the straw hat she won the spring prior for achieving first place in the egg hunt. She’d looked like a proper farmer, and a little like an angel.

But here, in the flickering firelight of Stardrop Saloon, she looks like she’s stepped out of an adventure novel. Dressed like a heroine whose only goal is to slay foul beasts and protect those weaker than herself, there’s a small array of leather holsters criss-crossing over her torso, cuts and bruises on her arms, and fresh white bandages wrapped around her knuckles. There’s a large black stain on the front of her shirt, and he wonders what the hell she’d done to get it.

She looks up, and their eyes meet.

Recognition passes over her face, and then she smiles.

He makes a beeline for the bar, the restless buzz in his chest getting louder with every step, like a swarm of cicadas in the summer.

“Hello, Farmer,” Elliot says, the buzz starting to make his ears ring. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Elliott. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” she says softly, a smile spreading across her lips. Elliott blinks, and thoughts he’d never dare entertain flicker like firelight over the inside of his eyelids. She’s so pretty. Why is she so pretty? “I thought about stopping by your cabin, but I figured I should check here first, just in case.”

Elliott feels lightheaded. “You were looking for me?”

She hums, nodding as she turns away to search through her bag. “Last time I dropped by, you looked like you were running out of ink.”

“Ah. I was planning to purchase a refill from Pierre in the morning.” Elliott winces. He’d put it off for too long, and his plans to write well into the night were dashed when his fountain pen ran out of ink in the middle of a chapter.

“No need. I collected some for you.” She turns around, a glass inkwell standing proudly in the center of her palm. “I hope this is enough, but if it isn’t I can bring more later.”

Elliott��s lips part on a breath as he plucks the bottle out of her hand. The glass is heavy, sturdy between his fingers and sapphire blue. He whistles softly, a reverent sound. “It’s lovely. Where did you get it? The ones at Pierre’s don’t look like this.”

“Oh, no, I made it.”

Elliott jerks his head so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. “You made this? All of it?”

“Well, not really. I harvested the ink from squids, but I had leftover corks from my wine bottles, and the bottle is made out of glass shards I collected from the beach.” She chuckles, tapping her fingertip against the glass. “Who knew smelting furnaces were great for glassmaking?”

[cheesylov]

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN I HAVE OFFICIALLY WROTE MY FIRST EVER MILKPLANE FANFIC, SO SIT BACK AND ENJOY

Welcome home soldier

It's finally time for Steven to go on leave for the army, this wasn't anything new to him, while he was packing his uniform his dad walked in

"Hey boy I see your packing you things"

"Yup, making sure I've got everything I need"

"I hope everything goes well boy, stay safe" he patted Stevens shoulder gently

"Of course it will, this ain't my first rodeo, I'm sure everything will me fine"

"Man Im surprised Francis is so calm about this"

Suddenly something clicked in Steven, he forgot to tell Francis he was going on leave, and he's never went on leave while in a relationship, god how was he gonna tell him, his face shifted into one of worry

"Something wrong boy?"

"Dammit I forgot to tell Francis I was gonna go on leave" he pinched the bridge of his nose mumbling

"Ah don't worry boyo I can tell him for you, I'm sure he'll take it just fine"

"You sure dad? I know he's a deadpan son of a bitch but he's still got feelings"

"He's a grown man, he'll understand, I promise"

"If you say so then, I trust you".

A few hours later it was time for Steven to leave, he hugged his dad tightly before walking off

"Bye dad!"

"Bye son! Be safe!"

In that moment Francis walked up to mclooy

"Mmm morning Mr. Mclooy, where's Steven going this early? It's a Saturday"

"He's going on leave-"

Francises face went to one of shock

"He's what!?"

"Yeah, bein in the army means you gotta go on leave"

Francis ran out the apartment as fast as he could, he at least wanted to say goodbye.

Steven was just about to go before he felt something grab his hand, he turned around to see Francis looking worried

"Hey Franci, you goo-"

Before he could finish his sentence he was cut off my Francis

"Your going on leave!?"

Steven wasn't used to Francis raising his voice, so that slightly shook him

"Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you, I was just busy getting ready"

Francises heart ached, he hated seeing Steven leave, especially when it was for a long period of time

"When will you be back?"

"I promise to be back soon, I should be back in like 2 months, it's a short leave"

Francises heart was being ripped apart, his eyes swelled with tears

"What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt!?... Or worse... What if you don't come back?"

"Oh Francis, you don't need to worry, I'll be fine... I promise"

Francis gently took off Stevens glasses to see his green eyes for the last time this month, he gently put a hand on his cheek and planted a kiss on Stevens forehead

"I love you" the only words that could come out of Francises mouth without breaking down

"I love you too Francis" Steven gave Francis a warm smile before putting his glasses back and and hugged Francis

"Be safe... Please"

"I will, trust me, I'll come back in one piece"

They shared one last good hug before Francis had to watch Steven leave, he could feel his heart ache with nothing but worry, Francis sighed and went back into the apartment hoping things will turn out fine

|a few weeks later|

It has already been two weeks and all the residents of the apartment were getting worried for Francis, they only every saw him when he delivered milk but on weekends or days off he wasn't anywhere to be seen, they would check up on him and it's almost like everyday he just got worse and worse, yes he wasn't exactly social but he would at least stop and chat a bit, but now he doesn't speak a word whenever somebody asked him anything, another few days like this and mclooy thought he would try and see if he could talk to Francis

The next day mclooy knocks on Francises door

"Open up boy it's me"

There was an unsettling silence before the door slightly creeked open

"Mmm, what do you want?"

"You look like shit"

"Oh gee I haven't noticed" he rolled his eyes

"Boy can we talk? What has been up with you lately? You never leave your apartment"

"What do you think it is?" He spat at mclooy

"Well I was just tryin to be nice"he crossed his arms

" ugh, I'm sorry it's just that..." Francis trailed off, words couldn't describe on how much he missed Steven "I just really miss Steven..." He looked down, simply talking about him made him want to break down

"Don't you send letters?"

"I do but.... It's not the same"Francis was now wishing these two months would go by as fast as they could, he leaned over the door and rubbed his face" I'm just... Scared"

"Scared of what?"

Francis sat down on the sofa looking up and the ceiling, mclooy followed in and sat down next to Francis

"I'm just scared something might happen to Steven... What if he gets hurt?.... What if he doesn't come back at all" Francis looked away, he could feel the tears in his eyes swell up like crazy

"Oh don't be silly Francis, he'll be fine"

"How could you be so sure? How come your so calm about this? Your own son is at the risk of getting hurt!"

Mclooy sighed and took a drag of his cigarette blowing out a large Cloud of smoke

"Because I know him, this ain't the first time he's went on leave, he's done it many times, I just got used to it and you should too, If your gonna date my son then you need to understand that this is his job, he can't just stop because your feelings got hurt"

Francis took that in, his words cut deep, but he was right, he was acting like a baby about this, but there was that feeling that he couldn't shake off, he loved Steven and cared for him, almost too much, but seeing how mclooy took this as an average thing he thought he should too

"I know you care for him but I assure you hes fine"

Francis sighed and looked over at mclooy

"Yeah I guess your right, Im sorry I've been like this, I guess I'm just not used to him not being around, but I'll try not to worry as much"

"Atta boy, now promise me to take things easier from now on"

"I will... ".

|7 weeks later|

7 weeks and Francis is still really sad to not see Steven, he still misses him but he tries to talk and open up more, at least he can actually hold a conversation with someone, Francis had marked the days on his calendar waiting, aching, for the day Steven comes back, he looked over at the cat clock that hanged off his wall, 10pm, he should get some sleep, he got dressed into his pj's and before he tucked himself under the covers he looked over the calendar one more time

"One more week, one more week" at that he sighed and drifted off to sleep.

|two days later|

Everyone was in their apartments while mclooy was outside, he was waiting for Steven, apparently he was getting off early, after a hour of waiting a familiar sound of boots hitting the ground was heard, mclooy looked up to see Steven running up

"Dad!"

"Steven!"

They hugged tightly, Steven missed his dad dearly

"How has it been since I was gone?"

"Pretty good, except Francis didn't take it too well, stuck in his apartment ever since you left"

Steven sighed

"Felt like that was going to happen, but I'm finally back, good to be home"

Mclooy whistled

Francis was in his apartment when he looked out the window to see where the whistle came from, when he saw Steven outside his eyes lit up like fireworks, he didn't waste any time, he ran down the stairs as fast as he could pushing everyone that was in his way

Once he was outside Steven held out his arms

"Francis!"

"Steven!"

Francis ran and threw his arms around Steven pulling him into a bone breaking embrace, Steven swooped Francis off his feet and spun him around, they laughed and tears ran down Francises cheeks, but not tears of worry or sorrow, tears of pure joy, he could finally smile again knowing his favorite person was back home

Steven put Francis down and took off his sunglasses looking into Francises tear stained eyes

"I missed you so so much... And now your home"

"I am, and I missed you more then you can imagine"

Francis wasted no time and pulled Steven into a loving kiss on the lips, their noses fitting like a perfect puzzle,he usually wasn't this lovey but he couldn't help it, he missed him too much, Steven pulled him closer as he practically melted into the kiss, he missed his home, his dad ,but he definitely missed loving Francis, Francis broke the kiss and looked at Steven, a soft smile creeping up on Francises face

"There's that smile... " Steven gently put his hands of Francises cheek and Francis held Stevens hand closer to his cheek

"Now why don't we get inside, it's getting cold"

"You two done yet?"

"Don't worry we're done dad"

Francis held Stevens hand and they walked into the apartment, everyone was happy to see Steven back, everyone was greeting and hugging him, when Steven got to his apartment he looked over at Francis, Francis slightly blushed as he looked down

"Hey... Can I stay the night and your place?"

Steven looked over at mclooy

"Fine by me"

Francis smiled and followed Steven inside his apartment, they lived right next to each other so it felt the same

|hours later|

It's night time so that means time to sleep, Steven could finally sleep in a comfy bed

Francis climbed under the covers and Steven slid in burying his face into Francises neck, Francis ran his fingers through Stevens hair, he really missed this

"Ready for bed?"

"You bet your ass"

They snuggled up warmly with each other and gave each other a kiss goodnight before falling asleep safely into each others arms

Mclooy walked by Stevens room and peeked Through the crack of the door

Steven and Francis were fast asleep still holding each other

Mclooy chuckled quietly before smiling

"Welcome home soldier."

END.

WOOO THIS TOOK FOREVER, Y'ALL DON'T JUDGE ME THIS IS MY FIRST FANFIC, BUT I HOPE Y'ALL LIKED IT:3

[iliumheightnights]

Sanctuary | Danse x Male!Sole Survivor

Pairing: Danse x Male Reader Fandom: Fallout 4 Ask: Paladin Danse's response to seeing your network of interconnected settlements, all with heavily-armed defenses and the growth of a new civilization, all without Brotherhood assistance?

~~~ This would totally happen pre-relationship between them. When Danse is still part of the Brotherhood. ~~~

"We're almost there." M/n said as he walked ahead of Danse.

The Paladin made a noise in acknowledgement. He let M/n lead the way. This was a resupply mission. The two were bringing some much-needed supplies to his settlement.

Danse hadn't wanted to deviate from their mission for the brotherhood, but M/n had been a good help and friend. He figured this wouldn't be a bad distraction.

They had just passed through the abandoned city of Concord and were at an old Red Rocket stop. However, the building was surrounded by walls and had a few watch towers.

"M/n! Hey M/n!" One of the guardsmen waved to them. "You stopping in or heading to Sanctuary?"

"Sanctuary! Have to drop off something!"

"Understood! We'll call ahead and tell them you're on your way. Make sure there isn't any surprises or anything."

"Thanks Donick!"

Soon the little outpost was behind them as they continued forward. Danse took the opportunity to ask M/n the question that had popped to his mind. "What was that place?"

"One of our Outposts. It was set up as a good forward waystation to Sanctuary. That way in case Raiders or Bandits try to make a move, we'll be ready for them."

Danse nodded. That made sense. He just hadn't expected that.

Soon both men arrived at a bridge. It was nice and seemed to have been rebuilt. Across the river, a large walled community was seen. Lights were on in the windows with smoke drifting up chimmnies. A whole community. A functioning community.

"Come on. I'm sure if we hurry there will still be some good dinner left for us."

They crossed the bridge and arrived at the gate. Danse noticed how the gate was surrounded by automated machine gun turrents. A few rocket launchers were stationed above the watch towers.

"M/n! You're back! About time too! Doc needs those meds like ASAP."

"Sounds good. Go ahead and open up Rhonda!"

She didn't waste any time. Soon the gate opened up and they could walk through. It was then that Danse noticed how they weren't in the community yet. There was in fact another gate they had to walk through and more turrents. "What? You think we're idle with our safety?" M/n teasingly asked Danse.

The other gate opened as the one they just walked through closed. They were then able to finally enter Sanctuary.

As they walked through the community, Danse couldn't stop looking around. He saw people laughing and smiling. Kids playing around with each other. Pets. He saw pets. Everyone seemed...happy. A lot more than he could say about some of the other brotherhood settlements he had seen.

"Everything alright?" M/n asked once he noticed how Danse seemed to be a bit lost in his thoughts.

"What? Oh! Oh yeah. I'm fine. I just...hadn't expected all of this." He motioned to everything around him. "I'll be honest. I kind of expected a few small shacks and turrents. Not a town."

"Ah. I see. Let me guess, that's what Maxson told you about the commonwealth? That we needed your help?"

"Well...yes."

M/n laughed and shook his head. "Of course." He knew it was the truth. Maxson was a pompous self-absorbed asshat. He thought anything outside of the brotherhood was impure and unnatural. That's why he didn't enjoy being near him.

The two made it to a building that was used as the town's hospital. A doctor in a white coat came rushing to meet them. "PLEASE tell me you have it." M/n smiled and reached into his bag pulling out a few packs of Radaway and some other healing stims. "Right here." The doctor seemed relieved. "THANK YOU." That's all the doctor said before turning around and rushing back to their patients.

"Come on. Let's get something to eat and rest a bit. It's been a long trip." He gave Danse' shoulder a pat and moved out of the building, the larger man following him.

The two were heading towards another building when a man in a long coat and hat approached them. "General! Glad you're back." Preston Garvey. Danse had met him a few times before. Not many, but enough to recognize the man. "We just got a call from Starlight. A group of supermutants tried to get through. Luckily those new turrents ended it rather quickly."

"Good. I'm glad. Any other trouble?"

"The occasional raider here and there, but nothing to really report on."

"Even better news. Thanks Preston."

"General." With that, the minuteman nodded his head and turned to continue his patrol.

"Starlight?"

"One of our other settlements. About twenty-five minutes south of here. Old drive-in." He entered the building with Danse and grabbed two bowls of soup that had been made in the kitchens.

The two sat down on the second story of the building on a patio that overlooked the settlement and a bit of beyond. "Another settlement? How many others are there?" Danse was curious. He had never heard of settlements working together. They were usually on their own.

M/n counted on his fingers and held up five fingers. "Five. Sanctuary and Starlight are two. There's also the Castle, Somerville, and Bunker Hill. Those are our big settlements. There's also a handful of outposts around like the red rocket we passed."

"How did you do this?"

"They really teach you that people suck in the brotherhood huh?" He pointed his spoon at Danse. "People want to live and not fear for their life Danse. Trust and Friendship can do wonders." He took a bite of his soup. "We help each other out. We're connected with the radio towers we built. We also make sure to keep our defenses updated and practice drills regularly. We also share supplies between settlements so that we're all successful."

"And it works?" Danse was amazed at hearing everything he had been told. M/n motioned to the settlement they were in. "Obviously. It's been a few years like this now. Of course, it's not always easy, but we make it work. We REALLY aren't as helpless as you were taught."

"I'm starting to see that." Danse' voice was low. He let a sigh escape his lips before he took a bit of his soup. It tasted nice. Felt very homecooked and filled with warmth.

Was this what home tasted like? If it was, he liked it.

[bomberqueen17]

a lil mini sew-along

So @sassaffrassa and I and a couple of friends decided to do an informal kinda sewalong just to get ourselves moving on I'm Gonna Sew Stuff One Day I Promise.

Sew Liberated was having a sale, so we decided to try the Matcha Top, which at the time was like eleven bucks. Why not. So we got the PDFs and each went through our various travails of printing them out and whatnot. And I'm just gonna talk about the process here, in case anybody else was thinking about getting into sewing, and kind of a review of the pattern. Day 1: Prepare the pattern, and look up other reviews, and figure out what the heck you're getting yourself into.

So, the Matcha Top. it's one of S-L's older offerings, and it only goes up to a size 24. Which is a 48.5" bust, by the measurement table. But it also says there's twelve inches of ease at the bust in the finished garment. Okay so yeah no, this will fit my 50" bust then, no worries. It goes on to say that the only real important measurement is your shoulder measurement. So I measure my shoulder, from where I'd want one sleevehead to be to the other, around the back of my neck, and I get 16", which puts me in a size 10. Uhhh.....

I read a bunch of reviews, which all agreed this thing fits real boxy so you can size down pretty freely, and then I looked at the pattern pieces. Well, the only thing that really matters is that shoulder fit, and the collar. I draped the collar piece around my neck and decided I did want the biggest size there, so I just. Went ahead and cut a straight size 24, and I figure I will take in excess in my toile. I am making a nice wearable toile though, with nice fabric, it's just not expensive fabric. Because I figure, it's a boxy top in flowy fabric, whatever size it ends up being will probably be fine.

Looking at the pattern pieces I am slightly skeptical of the grading. I'm used to seeing like... contours, but these are just straight-up every single pattern piece is expanded in size the same amount from one size to the next, regardless of things like... a plus-size person's skeleton is not larger than a straight-size person's, so it is bonkers to scale up the shoulder at the same rate as you scale up the squishy areas like the bust. So the pattern direction to just cut the size that fits the shoulders is probably correct. The size 24 shoulder is not actually knowledgeably scaled to fit a human being. Somebody "graded" this with a rolling ruler. Ah well. Reviews suggest the more recent patterns by this company are better, so I won't get too mad. But do keep that in mind, as you look at this.

Well, so I marked on my shoulder detail piece where the size 14 line would be, and expect I will trim it down, and use that to place the sleeve, and there'll just be a lot of excess fabric at the armscye that I'll have to trim off. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Or I'll, idk, put some pleats in under that shoulder detail. It has you attach it pretty early. I might be prepared to unpick this thing a few times.

I fondled my fabric stash, decided on a drapey rayon-cotton(?) mystery challis, and the collar and shoulder details in a contrasting cotton-poly solid. Got that cut out one evening when nobody was around. (It does say in the pattern instructions to use something with good drape. I looked at pattern reviews and yeah anyone who used linen or a stiff quilting cotton got a boxy fit out of it. You really want drape here.)

Then I lost my mind due to the stress of house remodeling, and after I'd ironed interfacing onto the collar and shoulder details, I embroidered on them. Why? IDK but it gave me something to fixate on for a couple of hours while there was demolition happening in my house and I couldn't get to my sewing machine.

[image: two stiff black pieces of fabric with blue swirls embroidered on them, and chalk marks visible where I've futzed with sizing and the embroidery design. yeah they're wildly different sizes but whatever it's handmade charm *jazz hands*]

So anyway.

That's where I'm at, and I'm hoping this afternoon/evening I'll have time to do some sewing.

[void-ink-studios]

Unexpected Guests on an Impromptu Vacation

It's time for some Fionna and Cake!

It's my first time writing these characters, so be gentle with me comments!

What's up next? No idea. But I'll cross that bridge tomorrow. Enjoy y'all!

Word Count: 2,400

Fionna felt like today was a good one. She had the energy to actually attempt to clean her apartment, even do some laundry! Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get to the dishes. Ah, what a dream.

Cake was chilling on the couch, napping in a sunbeam, living her best cat life.

Things had definitely been picking up, for the both of them. For everyone! Even Simon was keeping in touch!

But, she did wonder a bit what happened to Prismo.

He seemed just so... tired. She had definitely been there, was probably still there when they met. She couldn't imagine being a state like that in a place like the Time Room. As cool as that whole thing was, she couldn't think of herself... living there. As a shadow. Forever.

She hoped he was okay... Last she saw was him getting shattered against a wall by that creep, Scarab.

She sometimes wondered what happened to him as well. He was a creep, he tried to tear down her world in a temper tantrum, tried to kill her and Cake and Simon multiple times, spoke to them with that sickly smug attitude, but... Something was off. Kind of reminded her of Marshall when the two first met.

He was something desperate. Desperate for approval, and decided to make it everyone else's problem.

Fionna didn't know how junk like that was handled by gods, but boy would she have liked to been a fly on that wall.

As she dumped another stack of take-out boxes into a garbage bag, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Cake groaned, lifting her head up to stare at the door like it offended her.

"You invite anybody over" she whined.

"Uhhh... No? And Marshall doesn't knock. You didn't order more take out, right?"

"Not ever since you changed your phone password."

"You know that was for your own good." Fionna shook her head. "Okay, so, then, who's at the door?"

"Open it and find out, girl. See if it's one of those girl scouts! I wanna try their cookies."

There was another knock on the door. More persistent than before.

"Fine, fine, hold on."

She ran a hand through her hair as she let the door swing open, leaning on the doorknob.

"How can I hel-AAAAAH!"

"Afternoon, Crossovers."

He definitely looked different, not even looking like his human disguise in that weird Post-Apocalypse Farm World. But there was no questioning that red hair, those large eyes, that voice. Standing in her doorway, casually leaning on a cane, just as stoic as ever was Scarab.

"IT'S SCARAB-" Fionna took a few steps back, reaching for anything she could use as a weapon, hand eventually settling on a broom. Cake sprung to her side, hissing ferociously, hand morphed to be much bigger, claws to match.

"What, you here for a rematch, creep?! We beat the stuffing out of you the first time, don't think we won't do it again! Boy, I will punt you to the moon if you don't-"

"Woah, woah, hey, no punting needed" a new voice chimed in. A dark brown hand tapped at Scarab's waist, to which the Auditor stepped slightly to the side.

An old man peered into the doorway. He radiated the energy of a burn out uncle, the fun one you hang out with at family reunions who might smell vaguely of weed. He had long, curly gray hair tied into a loose pony tail, and a beard to match. He was dressed somewhere between sleepwear and beach bum.

"Scrabs, we talked about calling them Crossovers."

Wait a second. That voice... Those eyes...

"PRISMO!" the two girls cheered together.

"Man, I thought you died or something" Cake blurted out.

Prismo laughed with his whole chest. "Nah, it'd take more than a wall to bring me down. I just got boxed is all. Although someone did leave me at the bottom of my hot tub the whole time."

Scarab rolled his eyes, but some color bloomed on his cheeks. Was he... embarrassed...?

"I thought I had already apologized for that."

"You did, I was just teasing. But, anyway, yeah, not dead! Quite the opposite actually." He hit Fionna with a smile that made her want to have smores and sit by the fire with him.

"Wait, why are you so... tiny? You were massive back in the Time Room!"

"Yeah, well, you saw my actual body when you were escaping. I'm just a little old man. Somehow getting hairier and balder at the same time. Someone explain that why don't ya."

"As much as I'm sure this is fascinating for you, may we please come in and sit down a moment...? This body is not quite agreeing with me."

Cake leveled Scarab with a harsh glare.

"And why should we let you in? Prismo, is he after you again?" She stretched her face very close to the Wishmaster. "Blink twice if you're a hostage" she whisper-shouted.

Prismo raised a hand to give her forehead a small scratch as he laughed a little. "Guys, calm down, he's with me. I'm not a hostage, he's not after me, no one is."

Fionna saw Prismo give Scarab's upper arm a squeeze as he directed a very pointed "Ahem" at the Auditor.

Scarab had the decency to look... meek almost as he tucked his head a bit closer to his shoulders.

"I am... I am sorry for my actions against you, Fionna and Cake... I apologize for my pursuit of you, and my rampage in your world. It was... it was destructive and cruel, and you did not deserve it..."

Prismo grinned, giving Scarab a small pat on the shoulder.

Fionna blinked dumbly, looking at Cake for a second. The cat seemed equally confused and shrugged.

"Uhh... Thanks I guess....? Uh... Prismo, can we talk for a second...?"

"Yeah man, sure. Wait here Scrabs, I'll be back."

Scarab nodded, leaning a bit more on the cane.

"Cake, watch him."

"Oh, I wasn't about to leave. You talk, girl."

Fionna took Prismo by the shoulder, guiding him inside. She cringed at the still remaining mess, wishing she had a bit more time to tidy up. Not every day the creator of your universe drops by to say howdy. But, the Wishmaster didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually, looking at every little thing with a degree of wonder.

"Prismo?"

"Yeah? What'd you need to talk about?"

"...Pris, why did you bring him here? Didn't he, like, wanna kill you or something?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that... He was... in a difficult position at work. Got into some major trouble over what happened here, but I stuck up for him. He got put under my management, and he's been... chilling out. A lot."

"Dude, he tried to erase my universe. He chased me, Cake, and Simon across the multiverse. What kind of 'difficult position' makes that okay?"

"It wasn't okay. He knows that. His apology was a genuine one. But, it was his job, assigned to him by the Boss, to remove what he perceived as a threat to the multiverse. It wasn't okay that he tried to destroy it after it was canonized, and he's atoning for that. But it was his job as an Auditor to track you down."

Fionna didn't look very convinced. Prismo ran fingers through his hair as he thought.

"Look... You guys have, like, the IRS, right? They take your money. No one likes that they take your money, but it wasn't the agent's personal choice to take your money. They might get some glee if they took money from someone they don't like, but it's not the agent's choice to take money."

Fionna frowned, thinking of her own taxes.

"Scarab is that IRS agent. But on a cosmic scale. It wasn't his choice to come after me, it was his job that he was assigned to. He had grudges, so it was more personal than normal, but it was still his job. If he ignored it, he'd be in trouble. Like, major trouble. Getting fired isn't really an option for entities like us. Trust me, his manager was a real piece of work. It was either you or him. But he's sorry he took it as far as he did. He really is. Can you just... give it a chance...? Please?"

Prismo's eyes were big. Puppy like. Ugh...

"...I mean..." she sighed. "...Okay. Fine. Cake, let him in."

She looked at her cat, who was giving her a scrutinizing look. The two had a wordless conversation before she nodded, stepping aside.

She watched in mild fascination and confusion and Scarab... teetered in. That's how she could describe him moving. Teetering. He made a beeline for the couch, sitting down and holding his head. Prismo came to his side, putting steady hands on his shoulder, whispering something.

"What's going on, girl" Cake whispered as they watched the two gods on her couch.

"I dunno. Prismo's vouching for him. Something about a shitty manager, but like, for gods?"

"For real? Man, you'd think they'd be above junk like that."

"Guess not. Could you imagine Queenie or Butterscotch with god powers?" Fionna shuddered even thinking about it. Slowly, she made her way to settle on the bed nearby.

"Right, sorry, we just kind popped up" Prismo said sheepishly. "I... I got permission from one of the Higher Ups to have a corporeal body for a bit."

"Approximately 120 Time Waves" Scarab murmured, sounding a little dazed.

There was a pause of confusion.

"It's about five days, I think" Prismo corrected. "We both got bodies for five days, and I wanted to... well I wanted to see the universe I made. I only ever get to watch junk from a screen, so I wanted to live like... well, like you guys! It's been like, hundreds of thousands of years since I've had to live like a human. I thought it'd be a fun vacation or something."

Fionna snorted. "Bro, you have a sad idea of a vacation if you think my life is a break from god junk."

Prismo laughed with them. "Look, normalcy is a treat compared to the lives we live. When you see everything, it's a break to not know what's happening."

Scarab nodded in agreement.

"...Hey, is he okay" Cake interjected.

Prismo looked at Scarab, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"He'll be okay. His corporeal body's got some... issues. Putting it in a human shape is making him a little woozy sometimes. He'll recover, give him some time."

"Yes, I'll be... okay. It has been a while since I had a physical form and felt like this." Scarab seemed to be becoming a bit more lucid.

As Fionna looked at him, she did start noticing a few extra details. The cane he had rested across his legs was more... practical that the crystal one he was carrying around on the manhunt. He was dressed much more casually than she remembered. Still formal, but more in a "smart business casual" way, with red accents.

Fiona remembered, in the doorway, how he was leaning on the cane so heavily...

"Waaaait a second. You were chasing us halfway across the multiverse and your cane was... You, like, needed it? It wasn't just for show?"

Scarab made a... cricket sound? His cheeks flushed a little, looking away. "...Yes, I needed the cane. What, are you going to laugh?"

"No no, wasn't laughing dude! It's just... you were doing all these crazy back flips and combat poses and shit! If it wasn't so terrifying, I'd say it was flipping awesome!"

Scarab blinked, kinda like an owl, like he wasn't used to being complimented. Prismo gave him a grin, nudging him with an elbow.

"I-I... Thank you... If it means anything, you three were one of my... better chases."

"Uh... Thanks, I think? It's just... wild you're sitting here. And you're so..."

"Non psychotic?"

"Cake!"

"What, it's true."

Fionna blundered her way to an apology before Scarab held up a hand.

"No, she's right... I was not acting in a way that was... anywhere close to acceptable. But... Well, my time with Prismo has allowed me to... find something about myself. Something I had... forgotten, having been in my line of work for so long. It was a breaking point, and I'm sorry that it was your world that got caught in the crossfire."

"Hey man, I've... I've been there. I dropped my pants in front of a boss once. I'm glad Prismo's been... good for you?"

She pointedly ignored the look Cake was shooting her. A look that said "We're talking about this later."

"I... I can't say I expected you to relate but... Thank you. I hope you've found a healthy place as well." Scarab rubbed the back of his head, chittering awkwardly.

"Soooo.... Five days, huh? You guys have like, a place to crash or...?"

Scarab made an exacerbated sigh. "Don't get Prismo started on that Glob forsaken rust bucket he's conjured."

"I got us an RV!"

Fionna nearly choked on her soda at the truly defeated look Scarab was wearing.

"Prismo, that vehicle is terrible, and it smells like pickle brine."

"It's great, you're just cranky, Lovebug."

"Lovebug" Cake whispered, which Fionna shushed.

"We're gonna be camping out outside of town in the RV. So, if you wanna like, come hang out for a cookout or whatever, you're welcome to!"

Fionna smiled at the kind of infectious enthusiasm from Prismo. It was kinda childlike, but in an endearing way.

"Well, if you're looking for stuff to do, we'd be happy to give the grand tour. It's a nice place, when you're not trying to erase it from reality."

Scarab had the decency to avert his gaze but gave an amused smile. "That sounds like an acceptable plan. I'd personally like to know where there's a good place to eat, if for no reason than to veto Prismo's pickle for dinner idea."

"I was winning you over, you gotta admit."

"I will do no such thing, Prismo, it was a terrible idea."

"Aw man... Well, let's get out of here then! C'mon! Lets see the sights!"

"Let's go then, honey" Cake encouraged. "Maybe we could go thrifting and get him into something without buttons" she added as she pointed at Scarab.

Prismo squealed in excitement as he shot up, bounded out of the apartment, nearly dragging Scarab along behind him with a less than dignified yelp, barely enough time to get his cane back under him.

Fionna looked at Cake. Then back at the open door.

"Sooo... They're, like, bon-"

"Oh, they're fucking."

[thelampisaflashlight]

You're So Goddamn Frail

[Problems at home lead to an early start for Quincy, but he refuses to confide in Brother Elijah about his problems. Later, Quincy has another... unfortunate encounter with Mountain, leaving them both feeling a little awkward. Implied/referenced death of a family member.] Below the cut.

This.

This has to be a bad dream.

Why else would she be here?

In his apartment.

Standing in his living room like a fucking ghost.

How did she... how did she even get inside?

"Why haven't you answered any of my calls? At least you didn't change the fucking locks on me, too... Geezus."

Fuck, right, she still has a key.

Quincy stares past the woman in front of him, through her, at the wall.

He can't...

He can't look at her.

He doesn't want to.

"Quincy."

But he's weak.

"Nora... I... I've just been busy."

Nora sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, eyes shut.

"Busy doing what?" she asks, placing her hands on her hips, "You haven't answered my calls, or my text messages! Austin said you hung up on him the last time he called, and your boss at the bar said you quit! Over a month ago! What is going on with you these days, huh?!"

Quincy flinches.

"I... I'm trying to..."

"Trying to do what, Quince? Shut us all out??" she huffs, poking a finger at his chest, "You've been so selfish lately, and we're all trying to be accommodating, but you've got to get your shit together."

"I... I thought, since it's been a year now... that I could... I want to..." he crosses his arms over his chest protectively, taking a step back, "Since I'm not... since I don't... because Shawn is de..."

He can't say it.

"Do. Not. Bring. Shawn. Into. This." Nora hisses, refusing to back down, "It's only been a year, it's too soon for whatever... all of this is!"

She gestures at him loosely.

"Can't you just, for two seconds, consider how we all feel about this shit?"

Quincy shrinks into himself, looking away.

"I'm just... I'm trying to... move forward, Nora." he whispers.

"Fuck, you just don't get it, do you?!" Nora shouts, throwing her hands up in the air, "We just lost Shawn, and now you're-"

"...Quincy?"

Quincy snaps back to reality at the feeling of Brother Elijah's hand on his shoulder, "Ah... G-Good morning."

"I'm surprised to see you here so early..." he says, crouching down beside him, "...is everything alright?"

Quincy picks at his sleeve, "...I just... I just felt like enjoying the morning air."

He laughs, but it feels hallow.

Brother Elijah kneels down beside him on the stone steps, placing his hand on his back, "You're sure everything is okay?"

Quincy nods.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asks.

"Because you're crying."

Ah.

Quincy sniffles.

"I'll ask just once more... is everything alright?"

His eyes water.

"Y-Yeah..."

"If you say so." the older man humors him, patting his back and standing.

"Well, the library won't be unlocked for a little while now, how about we go for a walk until then?" he offers, "I can show you some of the parts of the abbey you haven't gotten to see yet, sound like a plan?"

Quincy nods.

"...Really though, if you need someone to talk to, for whatever reason," he places a hand on his chest, "my door is always open to you."

"Gotcha..."

Trailing after Brother Elijah, Quincy enters the abbey, dipping below his arm as he opens the door for him, keeping himself between him and the wall.

It's only after Quincy has managed to wipe away the tear tracks on his face that Brother Elijah drifts away from him, and only then that Quincy realizes that he'd been so close.

Hiding him from view.

He takes a deep breath in through his mouth and breathes out his nose.

"Better?"

"Much."

.

.

.

"These are the gardens. I know I showed them to you briefly on your first day, but they really are a nice place to sit and relax when you need a moment to yourself." Brother Elijah says, gesturing towards a hedge maze, "There's benches tucked away inside, and a fountain towards the middle. It's quite peaceful."

Quincy takes in the neatly manicured bushes, sticking his hand inside of them curiously, "I always wondered what these felt like."

"And?"

He withdraws his hand, leaves clinging to his sleeve, "A lot pointer than I imagined... what kind of plant is this anyway?"

"It's boxwood, I believe." Brother Elijah replies, helping pluck some of the small, yellowed leaves from Quincy's sweater, rolling up the sleeve slightly when he notices how far down his hand it has fallen, "It's a hearty plant, takes to shaping well, so I've been told."

"Hm." Quincy stands on his tiptoes to peek over the tall shrubbery.

"Mr. Byrne?"

"Yeah?"

"If I might pry a little..." Brother Elijah fiddles with Quincy's sleeve again, "It seems that, and you'll have to excuse me if it's a stylistic choice, many of your clothes do not fit you. Not that they don't suit you, but... they seem a touch too big."

Quincy frowns, "Ah, yeah, uh... They're kind of... hand-me-downs... from my brother Shawn."

"Most of my old clothes are uncomfortable to wear anymore, so I'm wearing these until I can buy new ones. Do they... Do I look bad, dressed like this? I must not look very professional..."

Brother Elijah shakes his head, "Not at all... although, you do seem to be swimming in your cardigan if I'm completely honest with you."

Quincy pushes up his sleeves again.

"Tell you what, why don't we get you set up with a uniform like mine in the meantime?" he says.

"What? Is that even allowed?" Quincy asks, "Isn't that kind of, I dunno, blasphemous?"

Brother Elijah snorts.

"What? It's a genuine concern!"

"I know, I know, it's just..." he chuckles, "It's just not something I hear often working here. Trust me, Mr. Byrne, I don't think anyone here will have a problem with you wearing a cassock."

"Only if you're sure it won't be an issue."

"I'm sure."

.

.

.

"...What are you wearing?"

Quincy looks up from the stack of books he's sorting, then further still to meet Mountain's gaze.

"Uhh... Brother Elijah said it was... it was okay. Is it not?"

Mountain tilts his head, "No, it's fine."

"What's the problem then?" Quincy asks, feeling somehow... exposed... despite being dressed in more layers than before.

His sweater may have been big, but it didn't quite hug his body the way the cassock does, the band in the middle, especially, revealing the shape of him.

He crosses his arms across his chest.

"There is no problem." Mountain counters, looking away.

"Why comment on it in the first pla-Ugh, you know what? No, I'm not talking to you anymore, I have work to get done." Quincy unfolds his arms, but keeps a slight hunch to his posture.

He expects Mountain to leave, to fuck off to wherever he came from, but instead he...

"I was just going to say it suits you."

Quincy freezes.

"Can you... stop?"

Mountain's eyes widen.

"What?"

Quincy picks up a book off the stack, "I don't... I don't... I."

"Look." he says, gesturing at Mountain with the book in his hand, "I don't... whatever you're doing. Stop it."

"I don't..." Mountain frowns.

"What am I doing?" he asks, sounding legitimately confused.

Quincy straightens up, "You're... you're making me uncomfortable."

"I... I am?"

"Yes."

Mountain looks... flummoxed.

"...I make you uncomfortable?"

Quincy looks at his feet.

An awkward silence stretches between them.

Mountain rubs the back of his neck.

"That was... not my intent." he says after some thought, "I apologize."

"...Was there something you needed?" Quincy asks, changing the subject.

"I... Yes actually." Mountain nods, "But I think... Ah, you know what? I believe I have somewhere else to be right now. I'll leave you to it."

"...A-Alright then..."

Quincy watches Mountain's retreat, waiting until he's out of sight to whisper out a bewildered...

"...What the fuck?"

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown outtake: a trinket

Series Masterlist

Placement: Before the main story, a few years after 'midgardian amusements'

Summary: Loki returns to Asgard from an extended trip with a gift for you

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings (trust me you need these): themes of incest (he's adopted but still); apart from that, none, really…this is kinda fluffy… [if i missed any let me know and i'll update immediately]

Things to be aware of: Reader is still painfully oblivious

The sun was at its peak in Asgard when Loki had returned from his trip to Niflheim to consult and negotiate with its rulers. It was strange; normally he would be itching to return home after trips such as this, especially given how monotonous meetings like this had become over the past millennia. But this time he found himself taking a detour to Midgard before returning, to acquire a trinket. A token of…what would it be? His affection? His obsession? His questionable and relentless lust? 

"Prince Loki, at the risk of overstepping, the affections you're feeling for her are…debauched," Heimdall spoke once he crossed the border of the Bifrost, ready to walk the bridge and make his way back to the palace. Back to you.

"I know not of what you speak, Heimdall," he attempted to deflect the words. He knew it was wanton. Indecent. To feel this way towards you, but it was a downward slope, and he was helpless against his nearly gravitational pull towards you. 

He found himself thinking of you at the most inopportune times, and the images he'd conjured of the two of you in the darkest depths of his imagination had been keeping him warm at night ever since he met you. He couldn't even think of taking on a new lover; every offer in the last few years he'd taken down for the same reason. 

None of them were you. 

"Princess Y/N may not be your blood, but she is still your family. Your depravity may have been overlooked, perhaps even approved of, before Odin's rule. But we are living in new times, Your Highness. Desiring her the way that you do--"

"I would gladly appreciate it if you cease your prying into my life," he cut Heimdall off. "What I do when my chamber doors are closed, who I desire, and ultimately who I choose to give my affections to, is no one's concern but mine. Besides, you said it yourself. She is not my blood." 

As he walked away, he failed to hear Heimdall's last words. "She will not love you the way you do. Not right away. It will take time."

He pieced together as he walked through the streets of Asgard that the kingdom was preparing for a banquet to celebrate the Summer Solstice. He made a note to stay at least long enough to attend. Perhaps even share a dance with you.

When he finally started walking among the palace halls, he could feel his step getting lighter, as if the anticipation to seeing you once more nearly made him fly. He couldn't make his way to you fast enough. That was how he nearly bowled over his mother, Queen Frigga, and her ladies in waiting. Thankfully, he was still acutely aware enough that he was able to stop himself from triggering the chaos.

"My son, you've returned! How fared Niflheim?" 

"Mother. I'm glad to be home." He enveloped her in an embrace. "Tedious, as always, then again there is nothing quite as lively and invigorating as our home," he finished with his usual practiced grin. Back before he met you, the giggles from her ladies in waiting would have done wonders for his ego; now all he wanted was to see you scrunch your nose in his direction.

"And what of Midgard?" He eyed her, feigning confusion. "You reek of their machinery, Loki. You cannot mask that from me. You cannot mask much of anything from me. Remember that, my dear son. Come, ladies." 

As they walked away, he heard one of them, your friend Astrid, ask her about his lack of courtship in the years past, to which he heard his mother reply, "Ah yes, well I'm afraid his affections have already been won by another. Effortlessly. Unknowingly. But he is hers nonetheless."

He couldn't find an appropriate word in their vocabulary to express the mortification he felt knowing that his mother had an inkling of his affections toward you. The Midgardians had the perfect word for it, though. Fuck.

When he finally found his way outside your chambers, he took a steadying breath, smoothing his hair, before knocking on your door. "Enter," you commanded through the door. Loki couldn't help but smile at the carefree tone of your voice. When he stepped through your doors and entered your chambers, he took a quick sweep of the room, noting the neat stacks of books and the journals on a study desk. He noted the four-poster bed with the sheer gold curtains, the sheets set in a luxurious black silk, making his thoughts go down a sensual route that he would rather do away from your presence, so he looked away.

And then he saw you, sitting in front of a vanity, fiddling with a black silk dress with gold detailing exposing your shoulders and clavicle, before turning around and greeting him with a bright smile. "Loki!" You stood up from your vanity seat and rushed over to his open arms. "Welcome home." 

Home. Funny how Asgard never felt more like home until he had you in his life, until he had you to come home to. And you weren't even aware of the effect your words had on him. "It's comforting to be home, darling. Especially if the welcome is this warm, and coming from the most beautiful maiden in the realm." 

His words made you chuckle, scrunching your nose at him as he kept you in his embrace. "Alright alright, I get it. I'm glad to see you, too," you said, laughing off his remarks. When he realized he'd held you a little longer than would be seen as appropriate had anyone else been watching, he loosened his embrace, allowing you to step out of his arms and sit back in front of your vanity. "Tell me about Niflheim." 

"There's really not much to tell, my dear," he answered as he sat on the edge of your bed, watching you contently through the reflection on your vanity. "The entire ordeal was quite tedious." 

"Tedious how?" Your eyes met through the mirror, the action somehow feeling so bizarrely intimate for the god, as this moment placed a new fantasy in his imagination. Of watching you ready yourself in the morning, insisting on alleviating your staff of as much effort as possible, your hair still disheveled from the night before. Him watching you contently from the bed, the sheets still tangled around by his ankles, the morning breeze floating in through the balcony doors, ruffling your sheer dressing robe and his naked form. 

Stop it. Right this moment. Not here. That future will not be yours. It cannot be yours. She can never be yours. 

He snapped himself out of his reverie and recollected his thoughts, resuming his gaze at you in the looking glass. "Well, darling, imagine a group of dwarves all talking in the same intonation, same agonizingly slow pacing, their voices all melding into one." He imitated their voices with frightening accuracy, making you burst into chuckles. 

"And what of the place?" you asked, delicately swiping some lipstick over your lips, hypnotizing him, bringing him back to his fantasies of being able to spend such intimate moments with you. Every day. As his lover. As his wife. Stop it, he scolded himself again.

"Irrationally dangerous," he answered you. "There's a mist that slowly consumes you once you step foot into it, an ever-changing maze that will guarantee you never find your way out lest you have remarkable survival skills. Or you can fly." You chuckled at his words once more. "Afterward I decided to pay a visit to Midgard…" he trailed off, conjuring a large, square jewelry box from his pocket dimension. 

As he opened it to reveal its contents, your eyes widened in wonder as you saw an exquisite choker necklace with gold chaining, pearls, and emeralds, the bottom tier consisting of more delicate chain links. "That's beautiful. Absolutely enchanting." You turned and stood from your seat, facing the necklace in person and slightly hovering your fingers above the intricate design. And then your face dropped by the slightest bit. "Is it for Astrid?" 

The question perplexed Loki. "Astrid? Why would I acquire this for one of your friends?"

"Well, when I first introduced you to my friends she said--Well, aren't you two in courtship?" 

Your question made him snort. "Darling, I am not courting Astrid. She approached me shortly after we were introduced a few years ago and expressed her intention to; however, I politely declined."

"Ah, I see." Your brows furrowed. "Well, the recipient of that marvelous trinket is a very fortunate lady. You have excellent taste." 

He chuckled at your comment. "Y/N, it's yours." 

You looked up at him with wide eyes shining with wonder. "Mine? You…You bought this for me?" 

"Of course, darling." Who else owns me the way you do? Who else could possibly deserve my affections more than you?

"I don't know what to say," you said in a rush. "You shouldn't have. Truly. But thank you." 

"Would you like to try it on?" Your eyes lit up as you nodded and a smile found its way to his face at the sight of your delight over something so simple. If that was all that it took then he would find reasons to gift you little trinkets at every turn, every opportunity. He motioned to your vanity seat, and you took the cue to sit back down, facing the mirror, one hand gathering all your hair to one side and the other deftly unclasping the gold band you were currently wearing.

The lurid thoughts of him pressing his lips to your exposed neck attacked his imagination. Every part of him ached to desperately. Instead, he reached around you and fastened the jewelry around your neck, his breath coming up short as he caught your reflection, how undoubtedly regal you looked with the intricate chaining decorating your décolletage. And what he absolutely was not prepared for was the image of you wearing his colors, looking like you were meant to be his after all.

It was all he could do not to tug you to your feet and lay his lips on yours. 

"How do I look?" you asked, your eyes meeting his once more in the reflection. 

He willed himself to stop the tears forming in his eyes as his mind was once again bombarded with a future he could only dream of with you. Then he stepped behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to bring his face level to yours. He had to mask his breath catching once more when he caught sight of you two together in the reflection, side by side. 

It was as if you were made for each other. 

"You look resplendent, my dear Y/N," he breathed out, never taking his eyes off yours in the mirror, as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek. He felt your cheek move in a smile and it took all his strength to not stay and continue to press his luck. To pull away instead. "You will make an exquisite Queen of Asgard and the Nine Realms one day." 

Your face fell at his words. "I erm…I do not wish to speak about my inevitable reign." 

"Why ever not, Princess?" 

You huffed. "The implications of my reign are…lonely." He felt you tense under his hold at the mention of the last word. He moved his hand to wrap around your upper arm so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder. "Me being Queen would mean everyone I love at this moment would be gone." 

"Y/N, darling, I'm sure it's not everyone--"

"Let me count them down, shall I?" you cut him off. "Grandfather, and most likely Grandmother. Then Father would claim the throne, but for me to become Queen that would mean he'd be gone, too. And also most likely Mother shortly after. And then you." 

Loki felt his heart flip in his chest at your words. "I'm on that list?" He couldn't focus on the notion that you believed he'd be dead by the time you ascended the throne. All he could hear was that he was among the people you loved.

"Of course you are!" you said with a chuckle. "Why wouldn't you be?" 

He couldn't stop himself from doing what he'd done next. He allowed himself the simple indulgence of wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing another kiss to your cheek. "I promise you I will see the day you ascend the throne, my darling Princess." 

If Loki thought your words had stopped his heart, your next actions might as well have plucked it straight from his chest. You laid your hand on the side of his face and tilted your head so you could press a kiss to his cheek as well. "Thank you," you whispered, so unaware of the emotions currently coursing through him. Completely unvexed by the proximity of your faces to one another. Norns, you were so close, one nudge in the wrong direction and he would have found himself with his lips on yours. 

He needed to put some distance between you two, if only for the next few hours. Recompose himself. He placed one last kiss to the top of your head before making a move to stand upright and walk towards the door. "I'm afraid I must go, my dear. Get my wardrobe sorted for the banquet." 

Your face lit up once more. "You're staying for the celebrations?" 

"Of course, darling. Save me a dance?" 

Your eyes softened as you scrunched your nose in his direction once more. "I'll save you as many dances as you wish, Loki." 

All of them, he thought to himself. For the rest of our lives. 

A/N: Back hugs and cheek kith?? I am not okay I am so soft after this holy hell--

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston

relinquish the crown: @kalinaselennespeaks @severuslovebot @kats72 @baffledbymybrilliance

[69misato69]

Speaking of cytham... Can we get a crumb of cynussy riding Haitham's face. (Different anon, but yeah)

hello i was on vacation apologies that this is so late but i hope u enjoy !!!!

⚖️ cyno rides 🌱 haytham's face

"hey."

cyno crosses his arms, looking up with furrowed brows at the man who has him cornered against the wall.

"hi."

haytham answers nonchalantly before diving in on his neck again.

"not hey as in hello... what are you doing? you have a shift."

"and i have exactly an hour before i have to be there for it."

cyno doesn't resist when he's sweeped off his feet and laid on haytham's bed on his back.

"food? rest? no? just me?" he jests as his underwear slides down his legs.

"just you." haytham presses a kiss on his tummy, "it's always you."

cyno can't help but giggle at the senstion as his lips trail all the way up to his face.

"i can eat at the cafeteria and sleep in my office. but i can't kiss you when i'm there, can i?"

haytham licks into his mouth before he can fabricate a comeback. cyno wraps his arms and legs around him, melting into the kiss — teeth and tongue, gentle but hungry. in one swift motion he flips haytham on his back and switches their places.

"well then... would you mind aiding me with your exceptional skills for a few minutes, acting grand scribe? i'll be quick. we can't have you running late, after all." he asks with utmost poise and formality while climbing haytham's chest.

he's quick to catch cyno's hips, helping him hover right above his face.

"by all means. who am i to say no to the general mahamatra?"

he smiles at the gorgeous sight towering above, unable to hold back from licking up at cyno's thighs — along his groin with the hook of his nose brushing against his folds.

with one hand he separates them and with the other he holds cyno in place. just as his lover begins to grow impatient, haytham traces his lips with his tongue, dragging it along the warmth.

cyno stabilizes himself by the headboard, gazing down at how haytham sucks on his clit — laced with love and lust. he gently pets the gray locks covering his face and then brushes them back.

he looks so pretty when it's slicked back, it brings out his beautiful eyes and perfectly sculpted nose.

cyno traces his finger along the bridge of it, the bone that arches up and slopes downward again. he's divine. under him, teasing and pleasing him.

haytham looks up again, noticing the sudden attention on his face.

"sit." he breaths out over cyno's dripping cunt.

and he does. he lowers his hips and lets go of the headboard, suffocating haytham with his thighs.

his tongue digs deep, reaching all the way into a sweet spot that drives him insane. cyno's head falls back, he rocks his hips forward — slightly, guiding him even deeper.

haytham's nails mark his hips and back, gasping for air right underneath but eating him out passionately regardless.

cyno moves again, back arching this time — lips that latch onto his swollen clit and circle around it, eliciting fast-paced and lustful ah, ah, ah's from his mouth.

"haytham..." he moans, sliding over his tongue again. back and forth, up and down, until those beautiful lips memorize every nerve and vein inside him.

he rolls his hips with trembling legs, riding haytham's face as he releases with a groan.

sweat trickles down his back, warmth seeps down haytham's throat.

one more, maybe. perhaps another where cyno clenches around his fingers, one around his cock. one where he's on his back and one where he's on his stomach.

one that he gives cyno and one he rips out from him. a few with cyno holding out and a few with him begging for it.

an hour is not that short, after all.

[thebeartrap]

When Carmens old friend from New York comes back home to Chicago to help him at The Beef, things start to take off for the little sandwich shop.

Chapter 1: Late Night Glaze

Carmen groans at the desk of paperwork in front of him. He rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and decides to take a break from running numbers.

As he rounds the corner from his office into the kitchen he spots you, dressed in sweatpants, focusing intently on heating up a glaze.

"What the hell are you doing here? Didn't you go home?" you hear Carmy's voice behind you as you stir your glaze.

"I came back. Couldn't get this mango glaze idea out of my head and the kitchen is my apartment is shit. I mean how am I supposed to cook on an electric stove."

Carmy giggles behind you, leaning against the cold steel of the kitchen counters, arms crossed in front of him.

"Electric stoves are an insult, absolutely. But it's midnight, go home."

"Hey , what are you doing here? Have you been here since dinner service, chef?" You give Carmy a questioning look and he laughs in response.

"Alright, chef, point made. I've just been trying to make sense of some numbers."

"Ah, well there's your first mistake. Numbers are notoriously confusing."

Carmy looks over your shoulder at your glaze.

"Looks good chef, what're you thinking?"

"Where to start... Obviously I'm thinking pastry right, but then I think salmon, the acidity of the mango right??"

You continue to frantically rattle off ideas while Carmen watches you, barely registering what you're saying. He's too distracted by the way your hands wave while you talk enthusiastically, making a mess of your typically perfect stirring technique.

"And then, tajin!! I mean that opens up a world of flavour profiles... anyway, It would've kept me up all night so here I am."

"Can I try it?"

You dip your finger into the still hot pan and taste some, checking if it's ready.

"Jesus, chef I don't know how you do that."

"What? My tasting finger?"

Carmen can't help but laugh. "Your tasting finger?"

"I'm sorry, do you not have a finger that you burnt so bad in culinary school that it has no more feeling in it?"

Carmen laughs behind you. You add a pinch more of salt to balance out the sweetness of the fruit and move aside for him to taste it.

"Wow, chef. Tremendous."

"It's not ready yet, needs something."

"You're crazy, we could bottle this shit and sell it."

"Thanks chef, but you're too generous."

"Nope, not even close. I'm gonna go burn one."

"I'll join you, haven't had one all day."

You follow Carmen through the kitchen to the alleyway. You watch as he fiddles in his apron pocket for his cigarettes, paying close attention to his hands.

I bet that sous tattoo would make a good necklace.. You shake your head at the thought God, y/n, he's your boss.

When you get outside Carmen lights his own cigarette before reaching across to light yours. You catch another glimpse at the tattoos on his hands and stare for a moment too long.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

You laugh it off, successfully hiding how flustered you are.

"Just admiring the line work, they're well done."

"Yeah I like them, you got any?"

"Yeah, one on my thigh, wanted it somewhere I could hide under my chef whites, ya know?"

"You'll have to show me sometime."

This time you're not able to stop the blush that creeps up in your cheeks. Get your head out of the gutter y/n, he didn't mean it like that.

You both finish your cigarettes and you flick yours on the pavement while Carmen ashes his on the sole of his shoe.

"Alright, we should really both get home. We've gotta be back here in a couple hours."

Carmen laughs and opens the door for you to get back into the restaurant. You both head to the lockers to grab your things and get ready to leave. As you exit Carmen realises that your car isn't on the street.

"How'd you get here?"

"I took the train, stops only like a block away."

"You're in river north right? Let me drive you, it's too late for the train."

"Oh no really it's fi-"

"Come on, I insist."

Carmen opens the passenger door for you and lets you climb in.

"Alright, where are we headed?"

"I'm on east Chicago ave now."

"Oh wow, quite an upgrade from west Chicago ave."

You're surprised that Carmen remembers where you lived before you'd moved to New York.

"You know, I grew up a couple blocks east of west Chicago."

"Really? How did we not meet before New York??"

Carmen chuckles lightly.

"Uh.. we did, actually. At The Beef.. you came in to see Mikey, I was there fighting with him when you came in."

"Shit! You're right, he even complained about you after you left. How could I forget that!"

"Eh, I've got one of those faces, easy to forget."

God was he so wrong.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll never forget that first day I walked into NOMA."

"Ha, me neither. Didn't realise the line chef fresh out of CIA was my asshole brothers friend. Almost swallowed my tongue when you walked in."

"Crazy how shit works out, how'd we end up back at The Beef.."

"Fate is a cruel mistress I guess. But.. I'm glad you came back, I mean, this place was a shit show. Nice to have someone else around who's from the same world as I am, you know?"

As he says that you pull up in front of your apartment.

"Well, this is me. I'll see you tomorrow, Carm."

"Yeah, see ya tomorrow."

He waits for you to get into your building and drives home. You go up to your apartment and get straight into bed, grateful for fate, as cruel as it may be.

[dearcat1]

(Rings)

Part 28 of An Exercise in Patience

"I don't want the rings," Tsunayoshi announces, apropos of nothing before one of their movie nights.

"We know, dear." Luss pauses where he is, turning to the omega. 

Tsunayoshi crosses his arms, frowning at the floor. "Why the Ring Battles then?"

"We already started them." Xanxus pets his hair. "We need to finish them, otherwise Vongola wouldn't accept either of us as the leader." It would seem too cowardly.

"Can't we say I bowed out?" Tsunayoshi's kiss under Xanxus's jaw is new, it's also very eloquent.

"Not if we want the decision respected." Xanxus nuzzles him, pressing Tsunayoshi a little against the alpha's chest. 

"Then I'll throw the entire thing." Tsunayoshi hugs himself tighter and ignores the sudden silence around them.

"I'd rather you don't." Xanxus finally admits, cupping the omega's neck in his hand and tucking him under his chin. "It's disrespectful."

"Disrespectful?"

It's Lussuria who answers him. "Well, it would imply that you don't believe the boss can win fair and square."

Tsunayoshi huffs, "I just don't want to fight you for something I don't even want."

"Ah." Xanxus holds him tighter. "Consider it a spar."

"A spar?" Tsunayoshi turns around, eyeing him disbelievingly. "What if I win?"

It's less of an impossibility than it was over a year ago. Tsunayoshi and he know their respecting fighting styles and Xanxus has helped his training along. Reborn is a powerhouse and doesn't go easy in either of them to top it off, Xanxus has learned his own share of techniques. Unless they're going for the kill, which neither of them is willing to do, then this can go either way. Xanxus knows this, Tsunayoshi knows this. It should be more vexing than it is. The alpha hums, pulling on a strand of hair. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

The omega looks unsure, though. Xanxus hesitates for a moment before rolling them over, pressing Tsunayoshi against the couch and covering him from view. "I've got you, alright?"

"Hmm." 

But Xanxus knows those eyes, he's seen them staring at him enough to realize they mean trouble. "Talk to me?"

"No." Tsunayoshi tucks himself a little closer, still plotting something but slowly relaxing. "I'm thinking."

Yeah. That would be what Xanxus is afraid of. 

The rest of his pack seems to be more relaxed about it. Lussuria chuckles, covering them both with a blanket. "Gentle with the boss, Tsu-darling." 

Squalo snorts, snatching the popcorn. "We're all screwed."

Under Xanxus, Tsunayoshi huffs. "Bel?"

Belphegor's knives fly across the room, almost cutting off Squalo's remaining flesh hand. "The prince will deal with it, Tsunayoshi."

Xanxus sighs, shaking the omega gently. "Call him off."

"Don't worry, boss!" Leviathan stands, "I'll stop them." 

"Mou." Mammon floats closer, camera in hand. "I'll bill you all for the damages." 

[idyllic-musings]

will you still love me when i got nothing but my aching soul?

summary. wistful musings are exchanged between two friends older than most.

trigger & content warnings. references to genocide.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort, soft angst. eir (genshin oc) & la signora. 1.2k words. eir uses they/them pronouns.

author's thoughts. THE BELOVEDS!!!!! eir fans come get your MEAL of a soft melancholic angst fic that i made <333 my post formatting will remain the same simply because i want you all to know that this is my oc!!!!! also i don't feel like working out new post formatting.

       "Your hair... It's becoming long again, Eir."

       La Signora's well manicured nails raked through their coffee locks with a gentleness she did not display often, tenderly working apart the tangles that had formed due to their lack of care and attention. A fire crackled on in the background, filling what would have been empty silence. The warm flames danced against their skin, mingling with the wistful glitter in their eyes, and similarly kissing the Eighth's face with a warmth she was both familiar and unfamiliar with.

       Said woman grimaced when her finger got caught on a particularly stubborn knot, a small crack now forming in her well cared for nail.

       "Archons above... your hair is thick enough to break my nails."

       "Sorry. I'll take you out to get a manicure done soon, okay?"

       "Hmph. Fine. That is compensation enough."

       "Well, that didn't take much convincing," Eir mused teasingly, to which she swatted their shoulder. "Okay, okay! I get it!"

       "Do you not take care of your hair? Of yourself?" she grumbled, taking a brush to their hair and working apart that particular knot with it rather than her fingers. They didn't reply. "Your silence speaks a thousand words. Take better care of yourself, Eir. I mean it."

       They giggled at her agitation, joking, "Why? I can just cut the damaged parts off if it gets too tangled. You think I'd look good with short hair?"

       "No."

       They laughed again, making the Fair Lady's lips twitch upwards. 'Such a beautiful sound,' she thought. 'Ah, this world is far too cruel for you, Eir...'

       "Aw. It looks so fierce and powerful on some folks. Why not me?"

       "There are some people who can effectively pull off such a look," she agreed, nodding, "but you are not one of them, my dear. If you want a technical answer"—she leaned forward, cupping their cheeks and squishing their face to her heart's content before leaning back again and continuing on with the task at hand—"it's the shape of your face. The structure of your bones. Anything that goes above your ears would not frame your face well."

       "Well... I trust you, Rosalyne. I mean, look at you—you are literally drop-dead gorgeous. I'd imagine you of all people would know what is best for my appearance."

       "You flatter me."

       "As I should."

       Rosalyne smiled, genuinely smiled that time, setting the brush aside and gingerly brushing their hair back over their shoulders. Finally. When their hair wasn't tangled, it was really quite beautiful.

       "Would you like me to cut it again?"

       "If you would."

       "Very well, then."

       Their reflection in the window they were situated in front of looked... tired. They could vaguely make out the shape of their star irises against the bleak darkness, caused by the raging blizzard outside.

       ...Damn. How were they going to leave without getting hypothermia? Not that it would kill them of all people, of course, but it'd be nice to leave dry and warm instead of wet and cold.

       They supposed they would cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, it was no concern of theirs.

       Hair shears snipped away at inch after inch of their hair. With each cut, Rosalyne's nails raked again through their locks to release any loosened strands that were a bit more stubborn than the others.

       "There," she murmured softly, only for their ears to hear. The shears were set aside just as the brush had been. "Is this short enough? I can cut it more if you'd like."

       "No. This is perfect. Thank you."

       Rosalyne leaned forward slightly, again cupping their face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed over their cheeks. With gentle guidance, she turned their face to the right towards her vanity.

       "The glass will never do you justice, Eir. It distorts your appearance in ways unbefitting of someone of your grace."

       Grace?

       They would hardly describe themselves in such a way, but they appreciated her sentiment.

       Their reflection in the mirror was indeed more appealing than what had been shown to them in the dark glass—she was certainly not wrong about that. However, the tiredness still remained, but... surely that was to be expected.

       Immortality was an exhausting burden.

       "Hehe... you know me very well, don't you?"

       "I would hope so," she scoffed. "It would be shameful if I didn't. Five centuries is quite a lengthy time to get to know someone."

       "Indeed," they agreed. "You and I were quite different people back then. I appreciate that our difference in paths is not enough to deter you from continuing our friendship."

       It was quiet for a moment, but then, Rosalyne sighed. Her hand was gentle against their cheek, as if she could not risk being rough with them, as if they would shatter if she ever did.

       "I am certain it is only because I am not here to take revenge on Celestia. I never was."

       "You never were," they echoed, musingly. "No... I don't believe that. You needn't lie to me. You are here to serve the Tsaritsa's will and avenge Rostam in the process—I understand, I do, Rosalyne. I just don't think violence will help in the way she thinks it will. You cannot remedy one genocide with another. An eye for an eye and the world goes blind, as the saying goes."

       "...This is where our ideologies differ."

       They smiled wistfully. "It is, but that's fine. I love you regardless."

       She did not say it back. Her lips parted—as if she desperately wanted to—but then shut again and pressed into a thin line. It... troubled her, her inability to express the love she most certainly held for her friend, but vulnerability was something she had long since forsaken.

       Eir did not take it personally.

       Then, a knock resounded throughout the surprisingly comfortable silence that had settled within Rosalyne's quarters. Her eyebrow twitched with annoyance.

       Nonetheless, she replied as smoothly as she could manage:

       "You may enter. Make it quick."

       With trembling hands, a much lower-ranked Fatui agent entered her room, bowing their head respectfully. "My lady, you are needed elsewhere—"

       "What?" the Harbinger sneered, fingers flexing slightly on their cheek but not tightening their grip at all. "Explain. Now. I do not have the time nor the patience for this today."

       The agent looked as if they were about to cry. Poor thing.

       "Lo— Lord Pierro has requested your— um, your presence, Lady Eighth."

       If looks could kill, they just knew the poor agent would have dropped cold and dead by now.

       Eir tenderly carressed her palm with one of their hands, leaning into her touch. A small kiss was placed on her scarred hands. Rosalyne's shoulders relaxed a little.

       "Go. It's fine. I'll be fine."

       "Eir," she huffed, thumb stroking over their cheekbone, "when do we ever get to spend time such as this together? Can he not simply wait—"

       "Rosa. I don't want to get you in trouble. I mean, I will tell all of your superiors to go fuck themselves if they so much as look at you wrong, but... you know, that's me. You don't have that same luxury. So, go."

       She didn't seem convinced, so they continued.

       "You and I have all the time in the world, love. You know that."

       "...Fine."

       Rosalyne stood up, the tapping of her heels gradually getting further away. Then, a door opened and closed just as quickly.

       Just like that, she was gone, and somehow the fire's warmth felt a little colder in her absence.