#and I'm contemplating ageing and passing away just to get some peace

[violent138]

Thinking about how bittersweet it must've been for Alfred to watch Bruce age. On the one hand, he's relieved and happy his kid got to build a family and survive despite everything. And on the other, he gets an insight into what Thomas would've looked like, see the Manor return to the kind of warmth and noise it once had.

[chrissv4mp]

♱ before your kisses turn into bruises, i'm a warning

warnings. smut, scissoring, fingering, nipple play, fluff, angst, and language.

synopsis. you have a run-in with a "shark" during a walk on the beach—turns out, it's just a runaway dog with terrible name timing. it's owner? a girl who you never intended to meet but is now stuck in your world.

words. 5.7k

letters. longest thing i've written in a while!!!! hope you all enjoy this, i enjoyed writing it cus it made think about my vacation to hawaii last winter 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the sun's just starting to rise, stretching slowly over the water as you make your way down stone steps that are eventually swallowed by the sand. it's soft and a bit cool beneath your feet, a nice contrast from the warm condo sheets and god-awful pillow that felt like it was suffocating you. jetlag from your flight had you asleep the second you stepped into your designated room for the two week you'd be here.

your friends were still sound asleep in the condo, just as tired as you were. maybe even more tired, seeing as they were still out cold.

the waves are soft, controlled as you walk along the shoreline, sunglasses perched on top of your head even though there's hardly any light. just a bit of pink and purple across the sky. it's all peaceful. steady.

"shark!"

you swear you feel your heart skip a beat, stopping dead in your tracks as you hear the single word. you whip your head around quickly, swallowing nervously.

and there stands a girl—about your age—skipping the steps and practically throwing herself into the sand, dark hair catching the wind. she's got a muscle tee clinging to her body, a backwards cap threatening to fall off her head, and jean shorts that are definitely way too big for her. she's yelling like someone's getting murdered.

"shark! hey, c'mon, boy, get back here," she calls, voice less frantic now.

your brain short circuits. what?

you look around, trying to figure out if this is some type of joke. or maybe this is how locals handle emergencies. she's bolting right towards you, kicking up sand, looking completely unbothered by the actual shark she just screamed bloody murder about.

taking a step back, you raise an eyebrow. "hi, um... is everything—?"

then, barreling out of the dunes behind her, a dog comes sprinting toward the water. a pit bull. tongue out. tail wagging.

you stare. then look back at the girl.

she stops, glancing over at you for the first time, a lazy grin forming on her pink lips.

"that's shark," she says, like that explains everything. "my bad. he's always scaring the tourists away."

you blink, opening your mouth but then closing it.

all you can think to say is, "...who names their dog shark?"

her grin widens, "i do."

then she whistles, calls out for him again, and jogs past you like it's the most normal thing in the world, sand sticking to the back of her calves, cap crooked and hair messy.

you watch her run up the stairs, trying to process the whole thing and contemplating if it's a dream or not.

until a familiar voice cuts through the quiet, "who was that?"

your friend, mia, is at the stairs that billie just walked on a few seconds ago, arms crossed, oversized sleep shirt hanging off one shoulder. the morning breeze plays with the ends of her braids, and she squints at you like she's still just waking up.

you shrug, beginning to walk towards her, "nothing. just some girl yelling about a shark."

she scoffs, "...that's not nothing?"

"well, the shark was a dog," you say, earning a chuckle from your friend, "and they scared the shit out of me."

your friend gives you a suspicious look, but she doesn't push. instead, she just mutters something about how you always attract the weird ones as she turns on her heel and starts walking back to the condo.

the rest of the morning seems to pass by slow after you and mia sneak back into your rooms and pretend to wake up again a few hours later. you're the first one out of bed, dragging your feet as you walk into the kitchen and sit at the rather large marble island.

a door down the hall you just came from opens just before you can do anything else, and here comes ivie. she's only wearing one sock, her hair is everywhere, and she's smiling sleepily as she walks into the kitchen and drops onto the stool next to you.

"sleep good?" you ask, an amused smile on your lips as you turn to her.

her reaction is delayed, which is all you need to know in order to put the pieces together that she, in fact, had a terrible night's rest.

a soft groan escapes her puffy lips as she leans forward into your chest, "the pillows were the worst. kept feelin' like they were trying to suffocate me in my sleep."

glad you weren't the only one who thought that.

"you too?" both of your heads turn to the staircase, watching as paige came down the stairs rubbing her eyes and yawning.

mia is a few steps behind her, sending you a small smile that you return as she goes to open the fridge, asking if anybody was hungry for breakfast. you all agree on eggs and toast, and ivie runs off to her room to grab a speaker from her bag.

she sets up her phone and hits shuffle on the playlist you four shared, and pink + white by frank ocean starts playing through the speakers loud enough to get a noise complaint.

the morning is calm, comfortable. just like the ones you imagined you and your friends would share on this little summer getaway. paige singing awfully in the shower. mia complaining about how her sunscreen won't rub in all the way. ivie throwing all of her clothes around in her room to find the perfect outfit.

when everyone's finally put together, you suggest a smoothie run, which turns into a whole afternoon trip into town.

the streets are warm and quiet, full of surf shops and flirty guys with sunburns. you've got on new sunglasses and your smallest pair of shorts, your friends muttering about stickers and overpriced tote bags.

when someone catches your eye.

it's that girl from the beach. same muscle tee, same backwards cap. now she's standing at a cart with a bright yellow umbrella above it, arguing with some ice cream. shark is sitting beside her, panting happily.

you pause for a second, actually stopping in front of ivie and paige, causing them to bump into you.

but she looks up—and there's no doubt she doesn't see you.

her lips quirk up into a half-smile. lazy. a bit smug.

she nods over at you, silently letting you know she sees you. but your friends have already started teasing you so much you don't even notice.

mia laughs, eyeing the girl, "is that the shark girl?"

you roll your eyes, starting to walk again and straight up ignoring the question even as your cheeks heat up and your palms start sweating. she was just some girl you had a small interaction with, you weren't gonna fall for her, let alone have any interest in her.

still, your heart beat speeds up just a little.

paige is already rambling on about some girl she saw at the smoothie shop, unknowingly saving your ass from the embarrassment and teasing of ivie and mia. her story lasts the entire walk back to the condo, and you silently thank her for being able to fall in love with any and everyone she sees.

the sun's started to go down, casting golden light onto the sidewalks. you're carrying a few shopping bags, still half-full on smoothies and sunburned in the one spot you swore you covered before leaving.

"okay, don't get mad at me for this," paige adds after a moment of silence, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "but while i was talking with that girl, we snuck off..."

you raise a brow. "...and?"

she grins. "she invited us to a party. it's tonight. rooftop access, a few blocks down, music, hot guys and girls, free drinks if they like you."

you sigh softly, looking around at the group as you all approach the house. as you unlock the front door and walk in, you hear a chorus of yeses and excited scrambling behind you.

and you?

you're not about to pass this up. especially when you're on vacation. and also because billie might be there.

so, you agree.

the party's already in full swing when you get there—balcony lights strung up like constellations, music thumping through the wooden floor, and that salty, warm air enveloping everyone like some oddly comforting blanket.

ivie and paige are already making their way through the crowd not even 5 minutes after getting through the door, and mia politely excuses herself to go find the restroom.

so, you slowly make your way through the crowd to find the kitchen. after pouring yourself a drink, you tuck yourself into some corner in the living room, watching the mess unfold. you're already regretting coming here, eyes moving all around the place.

and then something pulls your attention.

the girl. again.

you swear the universe was trying to tell you something, or maybe she was literally stalking you and the perfect little idea you made up of her in your head wasn't true at all. you hope it's the first option because the way she's looking at you from across the room is making your stomach flutter.

she's in a jersey and some jeans now. her hair's a little messier than the last time you saw her, wild from the wind. but her hat's facing forward this time, casting a dark shadow over her eyes. it shouldn't make her hotter. but it does. stupidly so.

and, as always, she sees you too.

it's subtle at first, the little game you two are playing. the flick of her eyes in your direction. the way you look away as soon as you catch her gaze.

eye tag.

she's sneaking through the crowd like she belongs there, eyes trained to you like a predator. but you don't feel intimidated or scared. just drawn to her. yet you didn't even know her name.

you lose her after a minute, someone walking in front of you just as she's about to come close, but then she's gone. your brows furrow in confusion. there's no way. was that imaginary? is she imaginary?

"keep staring and i might have to call someone on you," her voice startles you for just a moment until you realize it's her.

turning your head, you're met with ocean blue eyes and the lazy smirk you'd grown accustomed to. a smirk of your own tugs at the corners of your mouth, "sorry, sorry."

she huffs a laugh, looking down, stuffing her hands in her pockets, and leaning against the wall you're up against. her eyes meet yours again, soft, comforting.

"i don't mind," she says quietly, just above the music. "i think i like the attention. especially from pretty girls like you."

you nod your head slowly, "wow, flirting already and i don't even have a name yet."

"i'm billie," she adds, like she hasn't owned half of your thoughts since sunrise.

you hum, trying to play it cool as you exchange your own name. "guess i can stop calling you 'shark girl' now, huh?"

billie laughs, biting her lip and taking a step closer, "'shark girl' is cool too," she shrugs, voice lower now, lazy. dangerous in the best possible way.

her eyes burn into yours, making you glance away just to catch your breath. there was something about her energy. the way she moved, spoke, existed. it was so unlike everything back at home.

she was just... different.

"do you always hit on tourists at parties like these?" you joke, trying to give yourself a break.

but billie's already shooting back, nodding down, "only one's that wear skirts that short."

"you're impossible."

"and yet... here you are. still talking to me."

you bite your lip, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eyes again. bad idea. the way she simply stares at you just makes your heart start beating 10x faster than normal, your breath catching again.

she notices this time, you're sure of it. but she doesn't say anything, just observes you, waits for your next words, your next move, like she's trying to predict what you'll do.

"got me there," you murmur softly.

the whole reason you came here was to make memories, to make the best of this short vacation. and here you were, talking to some girl you met just this morning and already falling in love. some girl that you'll have to leave in a few days.

it doesn't hit you that you only have one week here when billie's staring at you like that, lower lip tucked between her perfect teeth, eyelids droopy, and full of interest.

but then someone runs up to you, grabbing your arm and shaking it wildly, "okay, okay, okay—hey, come with me!"

fucking paige.

she's tugging you away from billie before you can even make an effort to protest, "don't ask questions, just come with me, 'kay?"

you glance at billie as you're being dragged away, only to find her following you with slow steps that somehow keep up with paige's fast strides.

"am i about to get sacrificed, or...?"

"only if you're lucky," she giggles. "come on!"

you mutter some curse under your breath but follow her anyway, heart still thumping from billie's words. speaking of billie, she's still following right behind you two, smirk growing wider like she already knows what's about to happen. the three of you make your way down a narrow staircase, past drunk couples, and empty plastic cups until you reach a basement that looks like someone's personal man cave—but much cleaner.

there's a circle of people formed on the floor, an empty bottle in the middle of it.

"spin the bottle? seriously?" you deadpan, feeling paige's hand slip from yours.

she nods, practically bouncing. "they said only cool people, so obviously i told 'em we were coming."

you shoot her a glare, but she's already scurrying over to the girl you assume invited her. billie's not far behind her—sitting in an empty gap of the circle like it was routine. like she's still not invading your every thought. so, with a defeated sigh, you go and sit next to paige and her little girlfriend, across the circle from billie.

a few spins go by. strangers kissing strangers. obnoxious laughter. half-hearted cheers. you're nearly asleep from how boring it's getting. and billie can tell, her eyes raking over you and examining your facial features and body language, the way you rested your chin in the palm of your hand. she bites her lip, smiling like she's planning something.

and then it's your turn. you're on the verge of dozing off when paige nudges you harshly, muttering something about billie that you don't quite hear.

you lean over, spinning the bottle and then sitting back down calmly like you're not trying to calculate who it'll land on.

it slows after a few seconds, stuttering.

then, it stops.

billie.

you hold your breath as you look up at her, watching as the smirk on her face grows into a full smile, showing off her pretty teeth.

she just chuckles, laughing louder when paige hollers, "finally!" like she was waiting for this very moment to happen.

billie just sits there, so, you move first. she's biting her lip again, keeping eye contact with you and letting herself relax like it's normal to be kissing someone in front of nearly 15 people.

and when your lips touch—it's anything but normal.

she kisses you like she's trying to prove a point. one of her large hands grips your hip, the other sliding up your side like she owns your body. you gasp into her mouth, fingers curling at the collar of her jersey.

someone groans. another mutters, "holy shit."

neither of you can hear, though.

your free hand tangles in her hair, knocking her hat off her head accidentally, and billie just groans softly against your lips, pulling you onto her lap like nobody else is watching. like she didn't just meet you this morning.

when you finally pull back, your lips feel swollen and your pulse is wild. you don't even attempt to look around, but you can feel the silence.

billie's breathless, her grip on your body tightening like she doesn't want you to go. but, when paige buts in again, she decides it's better to continue this later.

you head back to your spot next to paige, eyes still glued to billie. you're both still catching your breaths, and she's trying to maintain any sense of self control she still has left before she pounces on you in front of everyone.

it's the next girls turn, a curly brunette wearing a cherry red top. you can hear the whispers already starting to surface, hearing the name "riley" amongst everyone hoping the bottle lands on them.

"just a heads up," she announces whole crawling over to the bottle, "i don't do half-assed kisses."

you already don't like her.

then she spins the bottle, dragging her fingers across it as if she's trying to make it land on a certain someone. it twirls, stuttering a few times, and you can already feel it in your chest before it even stops.

it lands on billie.

again.

riley grins. "rules are rules."

billie rolls her eyes playfully, beckoning her over with a curl of her fingers.

she's on billie's lap in less than 2 seconds, their mouths connecting instantly. and it's a lot.

hands in hair, mouths open, and billie's practically licking the inside of riley's mouth, and someone's literally filming it. your jaw tightens. because it's hot, sure. but it's not you. and that just makes the situation worse.

you still watch, pretending not to care. pretending like your nails aren't digging into the carpet.

but the kiss doesn't look the same. nobody's gasping or gawking over it like when you kissed billie. there's no tension in the air, no fingers digging into hips, no slow pull-away like she wants more.

it's just for show.

paige's girlfriend breaks the silence, "okay, okay, damn. game's over. we're not filming a porno in the basement."

there're a mixture of laughter and disappointed groans. people start getting up. paige is just about to grab your hand, but you're already on your feet. already heading upstairs.

you set your cup down on the counter when you reach the kitchen again, pouring yourself another drink to try and get rid of the jealously burning beneath your skin. try to ignore the way your heart's beating in your ears.

"you jealous?" billie's teasing voice erupts from behind you, a small laugh escaping her throat.

you don't turn around to face her. just sip from your drink slowly. "why do you think that?"

she steps closer, crossing her arms over her chest. "because i could feel your eyes burning holes into riley and i when we were kissing."

that's when you turn around.

she's closer than you thought—hat in her hand, hair a little wild from the kisses and the heat. her eyes drink you in like she hasn't already had a taste. like she wants more.

"you think i kiss everyone like i kissed you?" she asks, voice low.

"i think you could."

billie hums. "but i don't."

you hate the way that makes your cheeks heat up.

she reaches out, putting hat back on, and brushing your fingers where they're clenched around your cup. "you mad at me?"

you shake your head. but it's too quick.

"liar," she says softer, stepping closer. "i can tell. your expression is tense. and you're looking at me like you wanna kill me."

billie grabs your waist before you can say something smart, pulling you in like it's nothing. like you belong this close to her.

she just stares into your eyes, grabbing the cup from your hand sneakily and setting it down on the counter next to you. it's darker now. the only light source being the under-cabinet lights. upstairs, you can hear the music and the energy. it's pulsing through the ceiling. bass and bodies and someone screaming along to whatever's playing.

but down here, it's quiet.

just you.

and her.

you can smell hints of salt and something citrusy clinging to her jersey. her eyes are locked on yours, slowly drifting to your lips as if she's trying to figure something out. as if she wants to lean in closer and kiss you again.

and you want her to. you really, really want her lips back on yours. but the longer you look into her ocean blue eyes, the more you realize that your time together is limited.

a huff passes through your lips, a defeated one.

"look, you can kiss whoever you want. it's not like i'm gonna be here any longer, anyway," you say, trying to shrug off the feeling like the words don't sting. "only a week. and i'm not exactly planning a long distance... whatever this is, with some girl i literally met today."

she pulls you closer. "so don't plan."

you chuckle. "oh, cause it's so easy, huh?"

"it is, actually."

you roll your eyes, but your voice has an edge to it. "what's the point if we have limited time? why should i bother creating a bond with you if we don't even live in the same place? you don't even know me."

she leans in, breath shallow like she's getting mad.

"so what, you think i'm just some girl you can kiss and forget about?" she scoffs, voice low. like she's challenging you to say something smart.

you don't say anything. and that's all she needs.

her lips are on yours in an instant, and this time, it's not gentle. it's messy. urgent. no audience. no background talk. just tongues and teeth and hunger, like she's been waiting all night to finally get her hands on you. her fingers slide beneath the hem of your top, gripping your waist tighter.

you should pull away, but the way she's holding you so securely, so tight, it makes you wanna melt into her. the way her grip never lets up practically forces the argument out of your head and turns it into something hotter. your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you really forget about everything else—your anger, your stress, the fact that this might be the worst idea of your life.

when she pulls away, her forehead rests against yours. her breath's ragged, and yours isn't any better.

"you're right," she murmurs. "we don't have much time. so let's make it count, yeah?"

you're silent at first, still trying to catch your breath as you search her eyes for something. but then you nod, and billie wastes no time in dragging you down a dark, narrow hallway, hand gripping yours like you'll leave if she lets go.

you let her take the lead, your heart pounding in your head louder than the music upstairs. her shoulders are tense. and so are yours. everything's moving so fast, but somehow not fast enough for your liking.

she pushes open a random door at the end of the hall without knocking, kicking it shut when you're both inside. it's someone's room, or a guest room, you don't know. the bed's made, but the blinds are broken, and there's a jacket tossed over the desk chair. the air's somehow warmer in here.

you can barely register anything else before billie's lips are on yours again, hands on your face. you kiss her like you're still mad. like you need to get something through to her that is beyond words.

her hands find your waist again, fingers tugging at the hem of your top and tugging it up your body. you put your arms up, pulling it over your head and throwing it on the floor. her fingers are back on you immediately, pulling you close until your hips collide. she leans back in, teeth catching your lower lip and making you gasp.

pushing her forward by her chest, you watch as the backs of her knees hit the bed, then she's forced into sitting. you push her back, causing her back to hit the mattress. she's grinning stupidly at you, hat still on—but now it's crooked.

you crawl over her, hands placed on either side of her head.

"you don't even know me," you whisper, echoing your words from earlier.

she's breathless. "then let me learn."

with that, you kiss her again. it's slower, deeper. like you wanna memorize the pillowy feeling of her lips. her fingers slide under the waistband of your skirt, nails grazing your skin, and it's all too much. too much and not enough.

her hat finally falls off when you run your fingers through her hair, and you smile against her lips when you feel one of her hands leave your skirt and then hear the soft thud of it falling to the floor. then she flips you over so that you're beneath her now, one hand beside your head, the other trailing down your body.

the tips of her fingers run along your bare stomach, leaving a trail of fire. she's still devouring your lips, gripping the sheets beside your head like she's trying to control herself.

her lips trail down your jaw, your throat, and then she kisses your collarbone roughly. like she's been thinking about it since you kissed her in the basement.

and maybe she has.

voice muffled against your skin, she asks, "how long do we have left again?"

"a week," you breathe, eyes half-lidded, voice shaky.

she stops when she reaches your bra, looking up into your eyes, "better not waste another second, then."

and she sticks to those words, her hand reaching behind your back. you arch into her, letting your head fall back against the pillows as you feel billie undo the clasp of your bra. then she's slipping the straps off your shoulders, throwing it to the floor and latching her lips onto your nipple gently.

you moan quietly, fingers tangling in her hair when she rolls your other nipple between her thumb and index fingers. she's sucking gently, humming quietly against your skin before releasing your nipple with a pop.

her kisses trail lower, slow and deliberate, breath ghosting over your skin and making you twitch under her. you grip her hair tighter, knuckles bleeding white, biting down on your lip to stifle the whimper building in your throat.

the room is thick with heat, but there's still that flicker of jealousy and uncertainty in the air. it crackles between the space where your eyes meet, even as her lips brush against the waistband of your skirt.

"you're still jealous," she mumbles, fingers tugging your skirt down your ankles and then discarding of it on the floor. "i can tell."

you nod reluctantly, eyes fluttering closed as you feel her fingers running up your inner thighs, feather-light and maddening.

she kisses your inner thigh, then your clit over your panties. a soft gasp escapes between your lips, earning a quiet chuckle from the girl between your legs.

"stop teasing," you swallow hard.

her eyes flick back up to you, smirking just like always. "i'm not teasing."

and she's right. she isn't teasing.

she's taking her time—too much time—touching you like she wants to remember what your body feels like before you're gone. kissing you like she wants to burn the taste of your chapstick into her memory.

you raise your hips, tugging at her hair.

"please, don't make think anymore tonight."

billie pauses, breath still, cheek resting against your inner thigh. then, barely audible, she whispers, "okay."

and she gives you what you ask for—not holding back as she takes the waistband of your panties between her teeth and tugs them down your thighs until they're bunched around you ankles, letting them fall onto the floor.

as she's on her feet, she pulls her jersey over her head, unclasping her own bra, then unbuckling her belt. her jeans hit the floor with a soft thud, and you can barely make out the little sliver of a tanline on her hips when her underwear drops.

the room is so dark that you can hardly see anything—just the soft curve of her body in shadows, the swell of her breasts, and the tension in her shoulders as she leans over you again.

her lips part to ask a question, but then she shuts them, remembering your words from earlier. you didn't want to think. you didn't know what you wanted, exactly, but you knew you wanted her.

"i don't wanna forget this," you gasp as you feel her fingers swipe through your folds. you didn't mean to say it out loud.

but you did.

and billie stops for a moment, eyes flicking back up and finding yours, even in the dark. her lips quirk up into a small smile, lowering her head into the crook of your neck and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses all over.

"then don't," she whispers, so quiet you almost don't hear, "don't forget me. please."

you nod, hands snaking around her body and resting on her back. you whimper when her thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow but tight circles on the little nub as she kisses and nips at your soft neck.

she slots her legs around yours, fingers leaving your cunt and finding their way to her lips as she lowers her pussy onto yours. your eyes can't seem to pull away from the sight of her pretty digits slipping between her lips and sucking your arousal off of them.

her hips shift, eliciting a low moan from the both of you. you're already shaking. maybe from nerves. maybe from how good it feels.

or maybe because it hurts, knowing that this may be the last time you'll see each other.

"fuck," billie whines, hands moving to your hips as her head falls back in pleasure. her pace is slowly increasing, getting needier and faster with each thrust of her hips.

the squelching sound only makes it hotter, knowing that the both of you are equally wet. it distracts you both from everything.

you're not sure when her name starts spilling from your mouth like a prayer or when your nails start digging into her hips to pull her closer against you.

she's everywhere on your body—hands moving around the expanse of your skin, lips brushing against yours so rough yet so lovingly. curses fall from her mouth every now and then, breath ragged and sharp, muttering, "god, you're unreal."

her eyes drift down to where you're connected, and now she's not sure if she can take her eyes from the sight of her dripping cunt grinding against your own. she can't help but whimper when her clit bumps against yours.

your own eyes are fixated on billie's face. the moonlight shining through the broken blinds illuminates her face just right, giving you the perfect view of her faded freckles and pouty, pink lips. you're not sure you'll be able to forget the furrow of her brows after tonight, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips in concentration. her hair is falling over her shoulder, framing her face beautifully and bouncing subtly each time she moves her hips. your thoughts were starting to get cloudy, the only clear visions happening to be billie and that stupid smug smirk of hers. the one that you were starting to like a little too much.

"you're so beautiful," you manage to whisper between moans.

billie's eyes snap up to yours the second she hears your broken moan. she bites her lip hard, making herself flinch and whine at the slight pain.

her hips grind harder against you, fingers digging into your waist and causing you to arch into her. the angle makes the pleasure 10 times better, the bed creaking quietly beneath you two.

"m'gonna cum," she warns, voice a higher pitch than before.

her breath picks up quickly, coming out in shallow, short huffs as the knot in her stomach snaps. the sticky, warm feeling of her cum seeping onto your cunt is enough to make you cum with a loud, throaty moan.

your hips gradually slow down once your body starts to feel spent, heart still beating rapidly but starting to go back to normal. billie rolls off of you, sliding under the covers and helping you under.

the room goes quiet, save for the mixed sounds of your heavy breaths and sighs and the hum of music still bumping loudly upstairs. you roll onto your side, draping your leg over her waist and pulling the covers up more.

her fingers trail up your side and around to your spine, dancing along the expanse of your back as she stares into your eyes. she's warm—so warm and comforting.

you're not saying much of anything now. maybe it's because you're both spent, or it's because you don't need to say anything.

you lean forward, nuzzling your head against her chest, skin still damp with a thin layer of sweat, but you're already too comfortable to care. her arm wraps around your body, pulling you flush against her body, your curves slotting against hers so satisfyingly.

"hey," she says suddenly, voice hoarse. "d'you think crabs know they're sideways?"

exhaling tiredly, you tilt your head up to look at her. "billie."

she laughs at your half-annoyed half-amused expression, fingers drawing shapes along your skin as she continues with the dumb topic, "no, seriously. what if they think we're the weird ones?"

you shift on top of her, deciding to just shut your eyes and listen to her. "we just fucked and you're talking about crabs."

"you'd be surprised what my brain can do post-orgasm," she whispers, voice all smug like she's proud of herself.

billie goes quiet after that, her free hand coming up and running her fingers through your hair. you relax against her completely when you really start to pay attention to the soft beating of her heart, the sound lulling you into sleep.

her fingers never stop tracing patterns on your skin or combing through your hair, touch so soft and careful. she can hear the crashing of waves against the shore even through the glass.

your breath is even now, lips slightly parted, fingers twitching against billie's waist.

she watches you for a moment. then she swallows nervously, the corners of her lips curling with the need to say something. something stupid. stupid but true.

"you're gonna ruin me," she whispers, chuckling quietly.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @natbelovasblog @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @fawninlove @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @hkkuugu @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize

[wzrd-wheezes]

Friday, I'm in Love - Remus Lupin x Reader

"Remus found himself visiting the shop more often and Y/N found herself looking forward to his unplanned but always promised visits." 

AN - I had this idea for a fic ages ago and it's taken me so long to write for some reason. I hope you enjoy n please give it a reblog if you do <3 I also have a lil list of songs that I listened to while writing this so let me know if you want me to post it

It was a slow morning, to say the least. Outside, the downpour was relentless, each raindrop drumming against the thin glass of the record shop’s front windows, blurring the already muted colours of the street beyond. The warm glow of the shop lights barely reached the pavement.  

Y/N hadn’t seen a customer in over an hour and the stillness had settled into a comfortable rhythm. She passed the time by meticulously arranging the coins in the till, the soft clinking sounds punctuating the quiet. The final notes of a record filled the room before slowing to a comforting crackle. Choosing the music that played instore was one of the few small joys on slow days. 

She wandered over to the old turntable, her fingers trailing along the edge of a weathered box of records. The sleeves, many of them worn and well-loved, slipped past her fingers as she thumbed through them. After a moment of contemplation, she settled on one, slipping it from its sleeve and setting it on the turntable, guiding the needle to the edge. The familiar crackle started once more, followed by the comforting notes of the music.  

Y/N hummed to herself as she wandered around the small shop, flitting between the shelves, straightening records, adjusting displays and dusting off the shelves. She was working alone today, however, she didn’t mind the solitude – there was something peaceful about the quiet, empty shop, surrounded by rows of records and the soft glow old the old lamps. With no one to talk to and no customers to serve, she settled herself back behind the till, pouring herself a fresh mug of coffee and perching on the counter behind her, reaching for her book that she kept stashed away. 

She had just settled into a good part of her book when the sharp jingle of the bell above the door startled her. She looked up, the shop’s quiet suddenly disrupted as a gust of cool, rain-scented air swept in. A man stepped inside shaking droplets from his coat as he paused in the doorway, taking in the warmth of the shop. 

For a moment, their eyes met and Y/N felt a flutter of surprise at the sudden presence. She closed her book softly, setting it aside as she slid off the counter. He was dripping from the rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair slightly dishevelled. His eyes scanned the room before they finally landed on her. He offered a small, almost sheepish smile as he stepped further inside. 

“Bloody horrible out there, isn’t it?” he said, his voice warm despite the miserable weather. He ran a hand through his damp hair, attempting to tame it as he gave her a lopsided grin.  

“Absolutely,” she agreed, “You can hang your jacket up while you look around if you like? There’s nothing worse than a soggy coat while you’re trying to shop.” she gestured towards the coat stand adjacent to the door.  

He smiled appreciatively, immediately taking her up on the offer and shedding the sodden jacket, revealing a rumpled jumper underneath.  

“Thank you. It’s nice to be out of the rain for a bit.” he said, his eyes flickering over the shelves of records that lined the walls. 

“Can I get you a coffee or anything? It’s only meant to be for staff, but you look like you could do with warming up.” 

He looked pleasantly surprised, a grateful smile spreading across his face. 

“That would be lovely, actually. As long as it won’t get you into trouble?” 

Y/N laughed shaking her head, “It’s only me in today and I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

He chuckled, clearly relieved, “Deal. I appreciate it.” 

With a nod, she moved behind the counter, grabbing the coffee pot from the warmer and pouring it into a clean mug. A moment later, she joined him by the shelves, handing him the steaming cup. 

“Here you go. Try not to spill any on the records - you’ll get me sacked and I actually quite like this job.” she teased.  

He took the mug with a grin, “I’ll try to be extra careful. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your imminent unemployment.” 

“Glad to hear it. I’ll be over there,” she jutted her head towards the till, “Give me a shout if you need anything.” 

She watched him as he browsed; he was interesting to look at. His trousers were slightly too short for his lanky frame, and with every step they revealed glimpses of his mismatched socks. His hair, now starting to dry, was settling into soft waves. When she had handed him the mug, she had noticed that his hands were marked with white scars, matching the ones that adorned his face. He seemed absorbed in the records, flipping through them with a thoughtful expression. Occasionally, he would pause to examine a cover. After a short while, he approached the counter with a small stack of records in hand. 

 “I think I’ve found a few that might be worth a listen.” he set them down with a satisfied smile. 

“Yeah? Any particular mood you’re going for, or just exploring?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.  

“Just exploring. I haven’t bought any new ones in a while.” he shrugged. 

“Let’s see what you’ve picked, then.” she reached out, “I promise I won’t judge – at least, not to your face anyway.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll take my chances.” he leaned forward on the counter as he watched her inspect his choices. 

“Hey this is good one- Unknown Pleasures.” 

“Yeah? I’ve heard a couple songs, y’know on the radio and stuff. Thought I’d give it a proper go.” he pulled down the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, toying with a loose thread as he spoke to her, “What about this one? You listened to it?” 

She turned the album over in her hands, poring over the track list on the back. She frowned and shook her head. 

“I haven’t actually. Heard of it, but never gave it a listen.” she totted up his total as she spoken to him, “You’ll have to let me know if it’s worth a listen. 

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small pile of coins, dropping them into her outstretched palm as he counted them.  

“It’s been nice speaking to you.” he smiled sincerely at her, “Oh, and thanks again for the coffee.”  

“No worries at all. It’s nice having someone to chat to on slow days like today.” she glanced up at him and she put his money into the till, “Thanks for not spilling it all over the albums.”  

He grinned as he took the bag of records and headed towards the door, pausing momentarily to shrug his jacket back on. With one last nod in her direction, he pushed the door open and stepped back out into the rain, the shop once again settling into its quiet rhythm. 

A few weeks later, the weather had shifted from the relentless rain to a drearier drizzle. Inside, Y/N was immersed in sorting out a new batch of records behind the counter, the crackle of vinyl playing softly in the background. 

The familiar jingle of the doorbell caught her attention and she smiled to herself when she saw who it was. 

“Back already?” she grinned.  

“Couldn’t stay away apparently.” he stepped inside, shaking the rain from his umbrella and looking around with an appreciative nod, “I was just passing actually, thought I’d stop by and see what’s new.” 

This time, he looked more prepared for the weather, sliding his umbrella into the stand by the door. His hair was now tousled in a more deliberate way, though the sense of casual coolness in his clothes remained. 

“You’ve got great timing.” 

He cocked his head and looked at her quizzically, walking over to where she stood at the counter. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. We just got a delivery this morning. I’m just sorting through it if you want to take a look?” 

He nodded and moved to stand opposite her, resting his elbows on the wooden countertop. As he leaned in, his eyes focused on the box of records, his fingers lightly brushing over the album covers. 

He began to sift through the records, carefully flipping through the albums. As he examined each one, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation flowing easily. Every so often, they would both reach for a record at the same time, their fingers brushing against each other's. Each time, he would glance up with a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing slightly as he mumbled an apology.  

“I didn’t catch your name last time.” Y/N said, filling the silence, “I feel a bit rude not knowing it.” 

“Remus.” he looked up, eyes locking with hers, “and yours?” 

She smiled and pointed to the name badge pinned to her t-shirt. His cheeks tinged pink again and he quickly looked down at the album in his hands and then back to her. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m an idiot.” he laughed, “I should’ve noticed that.”  

She laughed softly, waving off his embarrassment, “You’re fine, don’t worry,” she said, her tone reassuring, then with a nod towards the album in his hands, she asked, “Any of them catch your eye?” 

They spent the next half an hour deeply immersed in a spirited discussion about music, bouncing from one artist to another. Remus’s enthusiasm was palpable; he could have spent hours delving into the intricacies of his favourite albums. His passion was evident in the way that he spoke, animated and engaged. He had taken to leaning forward, his forearms resting on the counter as he spoke to her.  

Eventually, he glanced up at the old clock hanging on the wall and realised how late it had gotten, “I should probably get going.” he said, reluctantly straightening up, “It’s been great talking music with you, though. Thanks for all the recommendations.” 

“Anytime. Small price to pay for having someone to talk to on a quiet shift.” she smiled, sliding the album he had bought into a bag. 

Remus came to the record store more and more often over the following months. They had settled into a familiar routine, discussing the merits of the latest addition to his collection and conversing about different genres and artists. Over the months, he had collected a plethora of albums: Ramones, David Bowie, The Cure, Fleetwood Mac, Joy Division. Anything that she recommended, he would buy and the next time he stopped by they would have a lengthy discussion about it. Remus found himself visiting the shop more often and Y/N found herself looking forward to his unplanned but always promised visits. 

One afternoon, they were having a fairly heated discussion. Y/N had hoisted herself up on the counter behind the till, and Remus was leaning forward, propped up on his elbows on the counter facing her.  

“I mean, you can’t deny the impact of Three Imaginary Boys,” Remus said, “It’s got that sort of gritty edge that you don’t get in their later stuff.” 

Y/N shook her head, her eyes sparkling with conviction, “I get that, but sometimes it’s not about the sound it’s about how the music makes you feel. With their later stuff it’s like they took all of that energy and polished it and made it into something great.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow, the scar across his lip stretching as he smirked, “Are you saying that because you think its natural progression, or just because you’re a fan of their later stuff?” 

“Both.” she replied with a grin. 

Their voices were animated, the shop’s usual quiet atmosphere was replaced with the lively exchange, each of them passionately defending their point with the occasional joking jab to the other.  

As the conversation continued, Y/N shifted her position slightly, causing a stack of records to wobble precariously. Remus’s lanky frame stretch across the counter, straining to try and steady them. Their hands brushed briefly, lingering for a moment longer than usual. They exchanged a quick, knowing glance before returning to their previous positions. 

“Do you want to go out for a drink or something sometime?” Remus blurted the words out before he even realised what he was saying. 

Y/N paused, her eyes widening slightly as she processed the sudden, unexpected offer. Remus’s face flushed a deep shade of red, and he fumbled with the album he was holding, suddenly very interested in the cover. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he stammered, feeling a wave of embarrassment, “I just thought it might be nice to hang out outside the shop, y’know, when you’re not working and being paid to talk music with me.” 

Y/N smiled at his nervous rambling, “I’d like that. It sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Relief washed over Remus, and he looked up, meeting her eyes with a hopeful grin, “Really? Brilliant. I wasn’t sure if it was too forward or-” 

“No, not at all.” she cut off his worry before he could spiral, “Friday?” 

Friday afternoon arrived faster than Remus had anticipated, and by the time he reached the bar, his nerves had crept back in. The bar was warm and dimly lit, with old wooden beams and music humming from a jukebox tucked in the corner. As he stepped inside, he scanned the room and spotted Y/N almost immediately. She was seated near the window, her fingers drumming against the scrubbed wooden table as she stared out of the window. 

“Sorry, I’m late. The rain-” he wiped his palms nervously against his jeans. 

“You’re not late, don’t worry. I’m early if anything.” she gestured to the seat opposite her, inviting him to sit down. 

Relieved, Remus nodded and slipped into the chair, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit, “Good, I was worried I’d kept you waiting.” 

“Not at all.” she assured him, “Besides, it gave me time to order us some drinks.” She gestured to the table, where two glasses awaited, “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of choosing something for us.” 

It was strange seeing him outside the context of the record store. The casual way he carried himself was different from his usual, more reserved demeanour. As he picked up his drink to take a sip, Y/N’s eyes drifted up to the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear. 

“S’a nervous habit.” he said, catching her looking and smiling ruefully. 

“So,” Y/N started, leaning in slightly with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Are you prepared to defend all your music opinions tonight, or are we calling a truce?” 

Remus laughed, “I didn’t come here unarmed, but I’ll call a truce—for now.” 

He glanced over at the jukebox in the corner, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, sliding them across the table to Y/N with a playful grin.  

“Here.” he said, “Why don’t you go and pick something? I’m pretty sure that we’ve just heard the same two songs on loop. Unless, of course, you have a soft spot for cheesy ballads?” 

“Please, I’ve got better taste than that.” she raised an eyebrow as she took the coins, “Although the thought of making you sit through Total Eclipse of the Heart isn’t entirely unappealing.” 

Remus chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he watched her stand, “I’ll be on my best behaviour then,” he replied, “No one deserves that kind of torture.” 

Y/N made her way to the jukebox, scanning the selection, taking her time as she pondered her choices. After a moment, she made her pick and returned to the table with a triumphant smile. 

“Your ears are safe for now,” she said, sliding back into her seat, “I went with something a little less torturous.” 

“You always get bonus points for Bowie,” Remus smiled, looking at her over the top of his glass, “Good call.” 

Y/N’s knee bumped against Remus’s as she shifted in her seat. Instead of immediately pulling away, Remus remained still, their legs pressed together. The contact lingered as Y/N glanced at him, her cheeks warming slightly. She could feel the gentle pressure of his leg against hers and the warmth it brought. 

Remus looked over at her, his gaze soft and a bit uncertain. He could feel his heart rate pick up, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into the contact. 

As the evening continued, their closeness remained, the subtle touch of their legs became a quiet reminder of the connection they were building. Each time one of them would go up to put a song on the jukebox, the small movement seemed almost rehearsed. They would slip back into their seat, their legs resuming their previous position almost instinctively.  

“I think we’ve exhausted every good song on the jukebox.” Y/N noted an hour or so later, returning to the table once again.  

“I thought the exact same thing-” his voice trailed off as the song that began playing caught his ear, “You promised no cheesy ballads!”  

Y/N held her hands up in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I never promised.” she said, leaning in slightly, “I just couldn’t help winding you up a bit.” 

“I should have known better.” Remus shook his head jokingly, “And I’ve ran out of change so I can’t put something else on.” 

“You’re joking.” Y/N’s eyes widened, “I just used the last of mine as well. I refuse to let Total Eclipse of the Heart be the last song we hear tonight.”  

Y/N drained the last of her drink her eyebrows knitting together as she thought. Remus fidgeted in his seat, reaching his hand up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before the words finally came out. 

“Why don’t you come back to mine?” 

The words hung in the air for a moment, both of them surprised by his sudden boldness. He quickly added, “I mean, only if you want to. I don’t know if you know this but I have a pretty good record collection.” he let out a shaky laugh. 

“Oh, yeah?” she leaned forward a little, eyes sparkling, “I wonder where you got those from.” 

As they walked, Remus began to explain, almost apologetically, that he shared his place with two friends. He spoke casually, describing the flat as small and a bit cluttered. His tone was slightly self-deprecating as he mentioned the occasional mess, but he assured her that it wasn’t too chaotic.  

“Luckily they’re out tonight, at a party of something.” he mused, “otherwise they’d talk your ear off as soon as you stepped through the door.” 

“Are you not a party kind of person then?”  

“Absolutely not.” Remus dug around in his pocket for his keys, retrieving them with a jingle and unlocked the door. Remus ushered her up the stairs almost immediately. 

“Would’ve made them tidy up downstairs if I had planned this properly.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “At least I know that my room is somewhat clean.” 

Y/N smiled at him reassuringly, following him into his bedroom. She didn’t know Remus all too well, but his room was the pure essence of him. His bed was pushed up against one wall, a cosy mess of sheets and blankets, a wooden bedside table sat proudly beside it, a stack of books perched precariously on top.  

Y/N made a beeline for the record player that sat in the corner of the room, two boxes of records placed on the floor beside it.  

“Mind if I put something on?” she asked, beginning to flick through the albums before he could answer. 

“Go for it,” he smiled, “I’ll go get us a drink while you choose.” 

Remus’s heart was racing a little as he walked down to the kitchen. She was in his room and he didn’t know what to do. He was so comfortable around her in the confines of the record shop, but now she was here, in his space, looking through his records and smiling at him in a way that made his heart melt. 

“Pull yourself together, idiot.” he muttered as he crossed to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer.  

When Remus came back into the room, bottles in hand, he couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. Y/N was sat cross legged on the floor, completely absorbed in the albums she had spread out around her. A pile of records rested in her lap as she sifted through them, occasionally pausing to inspect a cover or read the tracklist on the back. The warm glow of the lamp on his bedside table cast a soft glow over the scene, making everything feel somehow more intimate and familiar.  

He cleared his throat softly, handing her one of the beers as he sat down on the floor next to her, trying to mask the nervous energy still buzzing in his chest. 

“You’ve got a pretty solid collection her,” she said, raising her bottle in appreciation. 

“Thanks.” he replied with a slight chuckle, though he knew most of those records had come from her recommendations. 

She slid one of the records from its sleeve, glancing at him briefly before getting up to place it on the turntable. The needle dropped, and soon enough, the low hum of music filled the room, ground the quiet tension between them. 

As she sat back down, their knees brushed again, but this time, neither of them pulled away. Instead, they both stayed in the easy closeness. Y/N turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, catching him staring at her. He quickly looked away, a soft blush creeping up his neck. She smiled to herself, leaning back on her hands. 

“Y’know you have a couple of doubles?” she said after a moment. 

“Hm?” Remus blinked, looking over at her. 

“Yeah.” she grinned, holding up two identical copies of Lonon Calling, “When I was looking through, I noticed you’ve got quite a few albums twice. D’you keep spares or something?” 

Remus let out a nervous laugh, rubbing a hand across his face, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, “Yeah, uh.. About that.” 

Y/N tilted her head, her grin widening. “What? You just really love The Clash?” 

He sighed, giving her a sheepish look, “Not exactly. I, uh... ran out of records I wanted to buy.” 

“So, you just bought the same ones again?” her brows furrowed together. 

“I didn’t want to stop coming in.” Remus’s gaze was fixed on the floor. 

Her smile softened as the meaning behind his words sank in, “You didn’t want to stop coming in?” she repeated, her tone teasing but gentle.  

Remus nodded, eyes still on the floor as if he wished it would just swallow him whole, “Yeah. I mean, the records were a good excuse, but.. It was more about seeing you.” 

Y/Nfelt her cheeks warm. She hadn’t been expecting him to admit it so openly, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, trying to ease the tension. 

“You could’ve just said you wanted to see me, y’know. Would’ve saved you some money.” she teased.  

He let out a shaky laugh, finally looking up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, well, hindsight’s a wonderful thing.”  

“Well, for the record,” she held up one of his albums playfully, “You didn’t need a reason to come back. I would’ve liked seeing you anyway.” 

Remus blinked, surprised by the ease with which she said it, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” her voice was softer, almost shy now, “I thought that was obvious.” 

They stayed there in the quiet for a moment, their legs still touching, the air between them thick with something unspoken.  

“Don’t supposed you kept your receipts?” Y/N turned to face him. 

He laughed, shaking his head, “Nah. I wasn’t exactly thinking that far ahead.” 

Without thinking, Y/N leaned in, and Remus found himself tilting his head slightly to meet her halfway. Their lips brushed together softly at first, one of Remus’s hands trailing up to cup the side of her face in his hand. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breathless smiles lighting up their faces. 

“You’re a bit of an idiot, y’know that?” she teased. 

“Yeah... probably.” he just smiled and kissed her again. 

[gravityglitch-blog]

A short fic because I re-watched a playthrough of "Sonic x Shadow Generations" and didn't want Shadow to be alone during the epilogue.

Never Truly Alone

Sonic's birthday party was winding down, and Shadow still hadn't moved from his place on the grassy ridge.

Her strange life had taught Rouge many skills.

How to move quick and quiet as a slip of winter breeze.

How to spirit away a shiny jewel before anyone even thought to miss it.

Most importantly, she knew how to read people.

She glanced over at the gathering around the picnic tables and a now-diminished supply of food.

What a day...had it only been a day?

She'd say this for Sonic, he had his own gravitational pull. He attracted trouble as easily as he did friends.

Little groups had begun to split off now, as the sky softened into the golds and purples of incoming twilight.

The Chaotix were clustered together, still swapping stories about the day's events and discussing a new case that had recently come their way.

Knuckles had chosen to take a nap under the shelter of a tall tree, branches spread wide as if trying to embrace the sky itself. The urge to wake him with a ruffle of his quills crossed her mind, but she let the thought pass.

As for the man of the hour, he hadn't let Tails or Amy stray far from his side since their return.

Sonic must be getting sentimental in his old age, Rouge thought with a tiny smirk.

Everyone was at their ease. All but one.

Shadow's gaze had hardly left the horizon line, as though he were in search of something. Waiting for something. Or someone.

His vigil had only been broken once, by Amy, who'd approached to offer him a plate of food. Ever the gentleman, he'd accepted with a polite nod.

Rouge wondered if anyone had noticed that he hadn't actually eaten anything.

The plate sat untouched, hidden behind a small bunch of wildflowers.

Rouge glanced down at her glove. Again she thought of the moment when she'd been in the air, Shadow gliding past like a madman on the bridge beneath her. She had caught the tear from his eyes like the tiniest, rarest gem.

She knew better than to ask. But she had her theories. And she had her facts. The fact was that Shadow, along with Omega, was the closest she'd ever had to a family. And she'd be damned if she let any of her family grieve alone.

She reached under one of the picnic tables for her shoulder pack before carefully slipping up to Shadow's side.

"How are you holding up?"

He spared her a quick glance, then returned to whatever reverie she'd interrupted.

"I'm fine," he said, in his usual brusque tone.

"I know you're not."

Now he turned his full glare on her. "Rouge--"

She held up both hands in a gesture of peace. "You don't have to tell me anything, and I'm not going to ask you any questions. Except one."

His left ear flicked uneasily. "Which is?"

"Mind if I sit with you?"

Shadow blinked, apparently not expecting such a simple request. After a very long moment, he nodded. Rouge lightly sat down on the soft grass, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Maybe it was something about what they'd all just been through, but the changing colors of the sky looked even lovelier to her than the Chaos Emeralds themselves.

Her attention drifted to the bright wildflowers scattered around them. She contemplated picking a few, then decided against it.

Why cut their lives short? Let them enjoy their time.

Above her, she heard Shadow let out his breath, like a sigh. Some tension eased from him as he sat beside her and copied her pose.

There were no words between them. One of the reasons they got along was because neither ever felt the need to fill silence with idle noise.

Sometimes silence could be its own comfort, in the right company.

The air began to grow cooler. Rouge opened her pack and began to gently rummage through it, drawing Shadow's curious attention.

She found what she needed almost at once.

A black leather jacket with pink accents. It was her favorite, custom-made, with slits in the back to allow freedom for her wings.

Shadow made a sound that was almost a chuckle. "You still have that thing?"

"Of course," she answered, as if this were the most ridiculous question he could have asked. "It was a birthday present from you!"

"That was years ago. You wouldn't rather have a new one?"

She shook her head. "Some things are irreplaceable, sweetheart."

Shadow's features grew somber again.

"Very true."

There came a few stomping footsteps and the scene around them grew darker. Shadow and Rouge quickly looked up to find Omega standing over them.

"I too would like to sit with my friends," he proclaimed.

Laughing softly, Rouge scooted over to make room for him. Shadow did the same, almost with a smile.

With Omega now seated at her left and Shadow at her right, Rouge settled deeper into her jacket.

My boys, she thought affectionately.

When she looked up again, the first stars were just coming out to play. She took in a deep breath of the freshening meadow air.

"It's going to be a pretty night."

[jariten]

MAY-JUNE 2024 ROUNDUP!

No intro as I've got nothing to say aside from, well everything I want to say about these titles so lets get to it

Baby Blue Heaven by Nao Tsutsumitani is the story of Shouko who had to take the place of her late mother in the household, meaning she is day in and day out doing thankless jobs for thankless people. Like her shut-in father who takes her presence for granted, and her runaway sister who suddenly reappears highly pregnant. At the brink of her sanity Shouko must make a decision between the comfort of her family members who refuse to take care of themselves, and freedom and agency for herself. While a short read that imo could've worked and been even more engaging long form (and it's messaging could've been even harsher!) I found its conclusion to be very effective. Not to mention I also find it very satisfying to experience works like this that allow women to reject the familial structures that they involuntarily have to participate in.

Ball and Chain is Minami Qta's most recent work and currently serialized on the website Shuro. Ball and Chain follows two different people. One is a middle aged housewife contemplating divorce from her husband who acts like she doesn't even exist. But how can she pursue divorce when she is unable to work to support herself after a bout of severe illness? The second is Kei, a gender nonconforming woman engaged to a man who becomes even less and less supportive as their wedding approaches. Feeling more conflict with who she is, as opposed to how she's perceived Kei questions her sexuality as well as gender identity. While I'm still only on the first volume I am so looking forward to reading the rest of this story. Kei's storyline I am especially looking forward to as Minami Qta are tapping into their own gender journey as a nonbinary person which they've been very open about on social media. Not to mention it made me really want to go back and explore their whole manga catalogue, yet another project I can't wait to get to! (soon?🥲)

I also finally got to read the works of Fumiko Okada. One of the very young breakout stars of Osamu Tezuka's manga magazine COM, and is several of my favorite manga artists' favorite manga artist. ODESSEY 1966-2005 compiles most her works from the COM era as well as some of her doujinshi work from the late 1960's. The way she played with not just style but also form and technique is to this day still no other comic read from anywhere really. I don't know how else to describe it other than the stories are unquestionably dreamlike but with a tangible form to them. While her legacy from COM is talked about by some like that of legends today, the rest of her career is rather sad. She unfortunately retired from manga very early, had a brief comeback in the late 1970's on the encouragement of Moto Hagio and her editor, but soon after put away her pen again. She attempted one more comeback in the 1990's but was this time actively discouraged from returning to manga when she was told by Keiko Takemiya that she no longer understood the industry. She then passed away in 2005 only 55 years old. Some of her one-shots I know have been scanlated here and there but I hope a collection like this become licensed in english in the near future esp as this collection excluded her comeback works.

Last I just want to highlight Kefuzo Kataku wo: Kasuga no Tsubone by Riyoko Ikeda. A fictionalized account of the life of Lady Kasuga no Tsubone who was a key figure in the Tokugawa Shogunate when she became the wetnurse of Iemitsu. I really liked how it had the time to tell a story that highlighted the tensions of a country moving from a period of constant war and conflict to a peaceful one and how the internal politics had to be navigated to keep this new government from immediately collapsing on itself. And I loved seeing that Ikeda can totally pull off a Japanese historical setting as well. The art is lush and detailed, we aren't spared on the grisly details either and went down way easier than other works made explicitly on commission as "learn history/litterature from manga" that I've read. (though in most of those cases the fault lies in me not having the basic education on Japanese history that high schoolers in Japan have gone through.)

[leonbloder]

Find A Way To Truly Live

After a conversation with a church member about the possibility of forming a grief support group at our church, I've been contemplating some things. 

The first thing I have been mulling is that none of us get out of life alive.   

There's no bonus round for good behavior, and no amount of riches can buy one for you.  When it's your time to depart from this earthly reality, you will go.  

If you're lucky, the end will come at a ripe old age, and you'll get to drift away peacefully.  

At one of my former churches, one of the members in his late 80s passed away on Christmas Day after eating a wonderful meal, surrounded by his family, and stretched out on the couch watching football.  

Sign me up for that. 

But there are times when we are struck by the fact that death can come for people much younger, some in the seeming prime of their lives.  It's a hard thing to fathom, but it's also part of the frailty of our very existence.  

So there's that bit of morbidity to start your day off right.  

In all seriousness, every single one of us contemplates our mortality in one way or another.  I'm learning that it takes the dread away to think about it. 

I also started contemplating how few of us really live with the lives that we have been given.  We know it will all end, but we live without the urgency and the joy that comes from knowing that our time on earth is short. 

I'm not advocating that we should start scheduling adrenaline-fueled activities for every single day. In fact, that might speed up our whole mortality timeline. 

I am saying that we ought to make the most of every day.  To live with a sense of gratitude and joy.  We should let ourselves wander a bit from time to time and see where our wandering leads.  

And the people who give us life to be with, the ones we love and care about... we should spend more time in their company.  

Professor of philosophy John Kaag had this wonderful line in one of his recent books: 

We all will spin off this mortal coil soon enough.  The task is to find a way to live, truly live, in the interim.  

Here's the dramatic twist in all of this for those of us who believe in God and who choose to trust that God has purposes for what God creates:  God delights when we delight in the life we've been given.   

You might wonder how I know this and what empirical evidence I have to support that claim.  I could show you Scripture that expresses this notion of God's delight, or I could just tell you what I feel. 

I FEEL GOD'S PLEASURE when I am truly living my life, doing what I am meant to do, embracing the world in joy, and spending my time on earth pursuing what makes my heart sing.  

It's the kind of feeling that you never forget.  

May we all pursue that joyous feeling of the delight of God as we find our way to truly live.  May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and always. Amen.  

[hanahaki-disease]

Hermit! Tommy fic I'm working on

Okay, so I've decided to share my hermit! Tommy fic here. I need feed back from people that aren't my sister (who doesn't give a shit about what I'm doing.)

I'm only posting the first chapter because the prologue doesn't make sense by itself and so far that might be the most completed chapter I have. If this does good, I might post the second chapter, but no promises cause I'm nowhere near ready to post the rest.

So here you go!

-

It was strange to be sixteen, Tommy thought. Nothing changed much. He didn’t wake up feeling any different than the day before, if anything dread sunk deeper into his stomach than the realization of aging a year. But none of that mattered anymore, not from where he sat. Below him was his little campsite of logdeshire. He could see his shack and the pit where his items would go when Dream visited.  He could see the horizon line. Where the blue sky meets the blue of the sea surrounding him, where the sun disappeared and onto the other side of the world. The side where the rest of his friends and those he considered family lived, far from his misery and the corruption he causes (as Dream would say.) 

It was easy to get lost in one’s head from that height. The air was thinner and the clouds passed around you with a soft touch that left your clothes damp and cold. It was refreshing. When everything below was suffocating and hot with everyone breathing down his neck for every action he did, the open sky was a nice reprieve that Tommy sorely needed.

Tommy wondered how his mother faired over the years. Having not seen her since he was seven years old, his mind often daydreamed and thought of all the different ways her life could’ve gone without him. He wondered if she was still alive, ten years have passed and he wouldn’t know how she passed or why. He wondered if she moved on and began a new family, one without him. Was she happier with them? Did she love her other children more than him? Probably not. Tommy doesn’t remember much of his childhood before Philza, he does remember her bright smile and laughing. He remembers the warmth of her hugs and the taste of the sweet buns she would get for the holidays. 

He remembers feeling happy back then, an emotion that seems to never stay with Tommy long these days.

But as he stared at the setting sun on the horizon, Tommy stood on his oak pillar. The one-block-wide pillar swayed in the wind, threatening to topple at any moment. Looking down at Logdesire below and the short shore between his shack and the sea, Tommy contemplated the pros and cons of walking off the edge and plummeting to the ground. 

On the one hand, he’d be dead as soon as he hit the ground. For a fleeting second, he would feel at peace in the goddess of Death’s dimension. The warmth of the void could remind him of his mother’s hugs and Mumza would be there–his second mother. So he wouldn’t entirely be alone. However, Dream can revive him with ease, having memorized the revive book. He’d also be stuck with Shlatt, Wilbur, and Mexican Dream in limbo for all eternity.  (He doesn’t mind Mexican Dream that much, it’s the other two he has problems with.)

Sighing, Tommy turned away from the sun, letting the last few rays hit his back. It was peaceful, warm, and calm where he stood, but Tommy took one last look at the world. He looked at the world he reluctantly called home these past few years and knew that no matter what he does, Tommy would always return. He will resurface from the water below and Dream will be standing in front of him, wondering what the younger blond was doing. If by some miracle he hits the grass along the shore and the world blinked to black, Dream would just resurrect him wherever he landed, expecting everything to return to normal as if nothing ever happened. 

So, with nothing left to lose, Tommy leaned back and fell off the edge of the pillar. 

The sound of the wind rushed past his ears and left him deaf to the world. The view of the changing sky was the only thing he could see as the ground rushed to meet him. The night slowly overtook the bright day just moments before, Tommy wondered if that was some sort of symbolism for something in his life, the last little bit that was left the closer he got to the ground. But instead of landing flat on the shore, the water of the sea engulfed the teen, enveloping him in a cold rush of bubbles. 

Air bubbles escaped his mouth the further down the water he sunk. Tommy thought he was dead, yet the pain in his chest from a lack of air forced him to open his eyes and swim up. He didn't think the water was so deep so close to the shore, he was certain that it was only a block deep. 

By the time he resurfaced his arms ached and his legs were cramping. The tightness in his chest didn’t loosen when he broke the surface of the water it made him worse. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. The air was different, it was thinner, mossier–there was something in the air around him that wouldn’t let him breathe.

“Oh my god!” Tommy heard someone say as he struggled for a breath in the water. “Don’t worry, I’m coming!” He heard splashing from behind him and shortly after the splashing, two arms wrapped around his chest and dragged him toward what he assumed was the shore. “I got you, don’t worry, I got you!.”

When he felt the ground under him, the mysterious person broke a potion above him, and almost instantly Tommy gasped for air. The world was bright around him, Tommy noticed when he was able to breathe, that the sky was at its midday blue and the leaves above him were too green to be natural. As well as the blurry image of the person trying to save him, though, in Tommy’s defense, his growing unconscious mind made everything a tad bit off. 

–

With the start of the rush of a new season still coursing in her veins, Stress happily worked on the walls of her megabase in the Dark Oak forest just outside of spawn. Despite the sun blaring down on her, the canopy of leaves around her kept her cool while working. The wind flowing through the trees was fresh enough for her to keep her signature pink cardigan on (it also let Iskall know where she was, just in case he wanted to mess with her.) Having planned her megabase meticulously this season, Stress wanted to return to her roots. She decided to make a fairytale-like, forest kingdom; something to let the fae-magic within her settle and quit being so restless.

Though a Dark Oak forest wasn’t what she planned on having her base in, it fit the theme pretty well and looked pretty in candlelight. If she had built her base last season in a Dark Oak forest, she would be the target for multiple mobs right now. Skeletons would’ve shot her from her mossy-cobble wall, zombies chasing her, and creepers–well, not much changed with the creepers, they still followed her. This season, however, with the new update mobs only spawn in light-level 0, this means the rude geezers won’t attack her as she works.

It was a blessing, but she can’t let her guard down so easily. The mobs that took shelter under the canopy during the night were safe and could still attack her. 

So when the sound of splashing caught her attention, the first thing Stress did was pull out her sword and run to the pond she had built a few days ago. Maybe a Skeleton fell in and was trying to get out, or a local cow tripped in? Reasonable guesses came to mind when she approached the source of the splashing. Not one of those was a young teen boy slowly drowning in the shallow water. 

“Oh! Oh my god!” Stress unequipped her sword and dove into the pond. Arms wrapped around the boy’s chest, tugging him up and to the grassy shore a few blocks away. “I got you, don’t worry, kid! I got you!” Try as she might, it felt like something was pulling him down into the water, magic of some kind that Stress didn’t quite know all that well. But it had a visceral grip on him and clawed at her arms, trying to pry her off.

“Iskall! Iskall!!” Stress screamed, hoping he would hear her. His base wasn’t too far from hers, just within the mountain cave a chunk away, but she begged to whatever deity listening that Iskall could hear her yells. “Iskall get over here!”

A second later the familiar bright green of his shirt flew overhead, “Stress! Wha-what's going on?!”

“Get over ‘ere and help!” 

Together they were able to free the kid from the water. Iskall’s arms were decorated with new scrapes and cuts that would take a while to heal, Stress was no better off. The magic claws dug deeper into her than it had on him, and Stress knew that she would have scars for a few years. But when they looked at the kid, their injuries seemed like mere bruises in comparison.

Despite being in the water only a few seconds ago, the kid was covered from head to toe in grime and scorch marks. His shirt which was once white had holes and hastily sewn seams as if it was the only shirt he ever owned, patches of different colors decorated a large portion on his side and back as if it was ripped away or burned off. 

“C’mon,” Stress stood up, wrapping one of the kid’s arms around her shoulders. “We’ve got to take him inside, he doesn’t look too good.”

Iskall grabbed ahold of the kid's other arm and dragged him towards the incomplete castle. Don’t get him wrong, Iskall was a strong guy, he was one of the strongest on the server and it should’ve been at least a little bit of a struggle to take the kid inside. But it was like the kid hardly weighed anything. He was nothing but skin and bones and a shirt that hung very loose on his body

“I got a bed over here,” Stress lead them to a magenta bed tucked away in a secluded corner of the castle. “Easy, easy, easy Iskall! You’re going to hurt him!”

“I barely put him on the bed!” He shot back. “How’d he even get here?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But we need to get Xisuma over here because there’s no chat message saying that he joined the server.”

“You think he glitched here?”

“Only X would know.”

“I’ll go get him.” Iskall launched a rocket and flew off, the admin’s base in mind.

Stress took this opportunity to heal as much of the boy as she could. Step one, clean the injured person. Taking the first aid sponges out of her ender chest, she began to wipe off as much of the dried blood and dirt that covered his body. The bucket of water next to her grew more and more murky and brown as she wiped him down, and it was only from the exposed skin on his legs, arms, and face. She would hate to see what would be under his shirt. 

Thankfully Stress still had clean bandages, especially the health and regen-soaked ones, void knows those will come in handy. Carefully, Stress wrapped his injuries with the bandages hoping the potion would do its magic and heal his injuries. She tried to be gentle with him but moving a dead-to-the-world body was difficult. His limp body would sway against her and his hand almost smacked her at least twice. 

“Stress, who is this?” Her admin’s voice shook Stress out of her thoughts. 

“I don’t know,” She said and placed a damp towel on his forehead, hoping it would cool him off. “I was building the roof of my castle when I heard splashing in the pond., I thought it was a mob or something that got stuck, but when I went to see what it was, it was just him.”

Xisuma walked up to the kid, crouching to see if he was awake, but was only met with slow breaths and barely audible murmurs. The admin couldn’t make out his mumbling, but whatever he was dreaming about wasn’t pleasant. Now and then his eyebrows would furrow and Xisuma wondered what was going on in his head.

“My guess is that he came from a hardcore server where a magical deity took pity on him and gave him a portal here but the other deity of his server said “no” and tried to keep him there,” Iskall joked. “And that’s why we were struggling to save him.”

The other two hermits in the room gave a pointed look to the swede. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

Xisuma searched his pockets, hoping that a certain device was with him. “Stress, did you guys know if the kid had a Comm with him?”

“You’re not gonna search through his code are you?” Stress stood up. “You know that’s an invasion of player privacy! He has to be awake for you to access that, and you know it!”

The admin looked from the boy to his hermit, she was right. A player’s code was their entire being, it was what allowed them to be them, and it was only accessible to an admin if a player allowed it. Trespassing into someone’s code without consent went against the first rule of the Admin Ordinance–rules and restrictions that must be followed precisely to be an admin. Xisuma had never gone against the rules, never wanting to see what would happen if he didn't follow them, but he had heard stories. Stories of Admins being ripped apart by their code for disobeying the laws, admins locked away in abandoned worlds for their crimes to wither away and die. He remembers learning about the first admin who broke the rules, the code that made them human was stripped from them, leaving them a husk of their former selves in a world to rot away. 

“I wasn’t going to do that, Stress,” Xisuma says. “I know better.” He brings up the admin controls, a screen of jumbled numbers and letters that made no sense to the others in the room. “I was going to inspect the firewall that protected the server and see if there was a hole that let him in. If not that, then maybe there’s a bug somewhere in your base that let him through.”

“What if none of that’s true?” Iskall asks.

“Then we wait till he wakes up so I can sieve through his code–if he lets me,” Xisuma answers. “Hopefully, by then, I’ll be able to figure out how he got here and where he came from. But for now, Stress, make sure he stays alive and wakes up.”

“No guarantees, Xisuma,” she says. “From what I can tell, he’s malnourished and severely dehydrated. His scars are from battles most of us have fought before we came here. This kid has been through some things, and if I’m right, you won’t like it.”

“Just do what you can,” Xisuma says. “I’ll tell Doc to bring some more potions on his way over here.”

[sanghyukstattoos]

SF9's reaction: cockwarming

Genre: fluff-fluff-fluff; smut-smut-smut

Characters: SF9!

A/N: None of the images in the collage are mine, refer to here for more; For more SF9, read here, for iKON, read here and for optional bias writings, read here!

Youngbin:

Plays in pairs

When you first present the idea to him, given that the circumstances are of a light atmosphere, you'll fluster him, impeccably. His cheeks will turn pink and he'll maybe giggle a little and cover his mouth out of shyness but he won't be averted to the idea. He loves it but you just caught him off guard ahaha. When it's under a serious circumstance, like you are describing what you would like to try out, he would seriously contemplate your idea. He won't seal the deal if he doesn't like it the first time around. He'll try for a second to give it a chance. During your first time trying this out, it'll be spontaneous. Like you are watching a movie or a documentary and you or him decide that you want to give it a try. He'll firmly hold your waist as you settle onto him. If you are horny, you wait for a few minutes before you think, 'Enough of this' and rock him out of this world. What could he say? If you aren't, it'll be peaceful. But there's a dilemma. If you are sitting on the sofa, you can't see the screen. But you want to watch (sad). He'll say, ''It's okay'' and switch off the tv and it will resume in the bedroom. Just a beautiful atmosphere where you have deep conversations. He'll listen to your insight and internally marvel at how your perspective and compliment them with some of his own. It's like turn-taking, an essential part of a relationship where you go back and forth, speaking about one topic to the end of it where you have nothing to say anymore and then you'll move onto the next. It'll go on for ages, till the two of you are hungry. When the two of you go the kitchen to make something, he'll do what he couldn't do when the two of you were cock warming. The same thing may happen when the two of you are about to fall asleep, the lack of lights appeal to his other side, love-making.

Inseong:

This one is a funny bunny

It's a routine for you to cock warm after sex just like when he's on the laptop, surfing the net at the dinner table and you are sat on his cock, back to his chest, keeping him warm. After sex, it's a gateway to another round, on the bed or in the shower or to sleep in that position but not cock warm. He would love cock warming in the morning if it's cold then, probably in your balcony or in the kitchen, hugging you from behind and trailing his hands to your tummy and chest every now and then. He would love when you capture when you capture his lips in a sweet embrace, beginning a long make-out session when he's in you. If he's horny, you can bet that he's going to tell you about it. ''Babe'', he places a delicate kiss on your neck, ''tell me'' you moan out. His hands have already found your tummy and trailed downward, rubbing your clit but not to just merely stimulate you, to see if you are wet as he imagines you to be. He loves you. He's going to make love to you, to see those expressions on your face and feel you around him, holding you in his arms till the two of you have exhausted yourselves out which could one round or more than one. I can imagine you and him in the kitchen, he's got you pressed against the counter and that's how the cock warming while horny scene may play out. Another one is when abroad, maybe in a hotel or airbnb, he'll have you in his arms but that's not how it starts. He'll be playful about it, surprising you with a hug from behind, kissing the spot near to your ear, whispering some *interesting* innuendo into your ear, it makes you laugh anyway. A couple of seconds later, he's turning you around, kissing your tummy and inner thighs all the way till he's on his knees, he'll make sure to nuzzle his nose against your panties and lick a stripe at the material, slowly pulling them down. Arousal buzzes through you because he's telling you, ''fuck, baby you taste so good, stay still for me'' or something like that, it's a little muffled because he is preoccupied in drawing you to pleasure and pleasure and then release. He'll eat you out multiple times or till your knees buckle, depending on whether you had sex previously and then just maybe, in a moment driven by passion, he'll carry you to the sofa and that's where you'll cock warm, giggling to one another of what just happened, what you want to do afterwards. Wrap your legs around his waist, press him against the sofa and lift your hips again, he'll start the process again, all while laughing. It's just light-hearted.

Jaeyoon:

Absolute sweetheart/ dream husband

In this scenario, let's say that he is your husband. When you suggest cock warming, he's a little uncertain (by his little frown) but also inquisitive (by his questions), *Frowning* ''What is it about?'' would be the situation, he would look very cute when he asks. Presumably the two of you would be cuddling and you happened to stumble onto this conversation, he would not be shy, just like, 'You have an idea, let's hear it then!', also like an explorer, he's willing to try new things even if it means pushing his boundaries a little bit. But, this does not fall into that category of pushing boundaries. Maybe pushing his patience if he's horny. The latter scenario is guaranteed to occur at multiple points of time. You'll be lying on your side with his cock in your ass, it's a little jerk that alerts you or his hands that begin to wander everywhere like kissing your neck, then your lips and his hands have already begin to stimulate your clitoris. You moan into the kiss and then he knows and he smiles into the kiss while rocking his hips against yours. Everything is forgotten in the background. Unless it's life-threatening. Like food can burn or you could watch three episodes on netflix that you aren't truly watching, he's not stopping till the both of you are tired to the bone and have released multiple times. Quite the sweetheart though, he'll get up and shake himself if he's about to fall asleep the next minute and he'll grab a cloth for you like you protest but he says as he's already getting up, ''no, stay there, I've got it!''. You smile and slump and he cleans you, tosses it away and then climbs on top of you, pulling you into his arms. If he can, he'll try the idea of cock warming and spoon you throughout the night but if he can not, he'll definitely do it the next day. He's committed to the plans he makes or what's going on at that moment. Let's say you have an argument, you are trying to smooth things out, ruffle out misunderstandings and you won't talk it out with sex but communicate to him about it. The night will end in cock warming, to bring you closer and then it's all jokes from there, especially about the argument, it's either you teasing him or the other way around and that's how you fall asleep: content.

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

He has his days.

On a day when he's tired, to the bone maybe, he's come back from work and you want to cuddle, using the idea of cock warming to propose the intimacy you want to feel during the night that you couldn't during the day, I'm sure that he'll do it for you. If he does not fall asleep immediately, he'll caress your backside, admiring the way the flesh conforms to his grasp. He loves all of you. He will pepper kisses along your neck, down your collarbone and to your breasts, sucking your erect buds but he won't touch your centre. He likes to go slow, never stopping these moments with you or he'll take you in the morning. At times like these, he loves when you touch him, just your touch on his skin, turning heated. When you are making out, it would be your tug on his hair, like urgency for more or roaming your hands all over him or tracing his hair from his navel to the band of his underwear would be his favourite save for the best of all, when you direct how everything goes. If he does fall asleep immediately, it'll be after he kisses you. During this time, regardless of whether you were cock warming or not, he would love for you to tangle your fingers in his hair, it lulls him to sleep and even to sleep in your chest, being the small spoon, he would absolutely love it. He has trouble sleeping alone but when he's with you, it's not the case. When he stretches you out after days of not having sex, he tries to hold himself back from releasing, the wait and foreplay was enough to spiral his mind, gasping in your ear. But if you are too tired, he'll take it into consideration, seriously and hold back from lifting his hips off yours and filling you up. When he cock warms just to end the day comfortably, it will turn it into sex if the two of you contain some semblance of energy and are away from that playful and teasing mood, with hours on end before you sleep. It will be just the feeling of his cock filling you up, holding you to the bed with your legs wrapped around his waist, whispering how much he loves and that you are doing well, growling and stilling, your release triggering his, holding you when you are tired or in between rounds decorates the night. He holds your hand when you have sex, always, if your hands aren't roaming his body, feeling it. Otherwise, he'll hold you, preferably with all of your clothes off, no material between the two of you, you two speak about your day, the present and the future. It could even be a tickle session that ensues. The atmosphere will be lively, especially with his jokes and teasing and all the loves he has to offer.

Rowoon I Kim Seokwoo:

Prince of visuals, no?

Since he has such visuals, let's imagine that he takes you on a yacht (ya-ch-ht; hard time spelling that folks 🥵 + why do people go on a yacht? I'm struggling to think of a reason?). Seokwoo's marvelling over your amazement at the beauty of the ocean, the clear blue waters and occasional shade of the fish passing by. He even jokes that he hopes ''no shark gets the two of you'' and then laughs at your expression. Please, he's trying, don't throw him overboard :/. You enjoy the heat some more before he's by your side again, the yacht is paused, it gives you ideas. As soon as he's sat by your side, you take to straddle him, therefore effectively cutting him off. The surprise is evident on his face but his hands are resting on your backside, getting comfortable there. He groans out when your lips touch his neck, nipping the flesh to give him love bites which earns those husky groans of his. They send vibrations down your spine, tingling your core with wetness. With such a beautiful scenery surrounding the two of you, it's easy to fix your eyes on two places and think about how beautiful either are. He intimately hugs you, sucking an area on your breast, removing it from your top and placing the perk bud into his mouth, the act itself is hot and you grind down on him, not holding back your moans because of the silence of the ocean, save for the splashing of waves. You ride him, letting out sweet fucking moans, whimpering in his ears for him that it's so good, you can't get enough. When you are all sweaty, you cock warm in the shade, making out. It's a very soft moment, like sealing the deal? He wants to make you happy and he'll do stuff for you to achieve it. Cock warming is bonding for the two of you, to spoon and gossip about the other rich couples that you saw or speak about your day or just lay there, in each other's arms, enjoying the moment. When it's cooler, he would be okay to cock warming in a public space such as underneath a tree on a beach. You may be a bit far from the sea but you can smell it which makes you happy. It's a very calming day when you are tucked in his arm, leaning on his chest with his cock buried deep inside of you, feeling a little chilly but you are covered by a blanket. All in all, it's private for the two of you.

Zuho I Baek Juho

Cat man 🦸‍♂️

He would love to cock warm indoors, when his cats are sleeping, safely tucked in their beds as you are in each other's arms. It'll be quiet, you can only hear what's outside, maybe the train passing by or vehicles or pure silence which is hard to come but not impossible. If something's disturbing you like traffic, heavy honking, he's not for it and he'll move you two to somewhere else like the bed or on his studio chair. If you are tired and want to cock warm while he is producing, he'll hold you close to him and ignore the cramp in his legs. When he sees you sleep, he'll go soft and admire your prettiness, not forgetting to wrap a blanket around you. When it's silent, a relaxing atmosphere in which you can fall asleep easily, it's where cock warming will occur the most. An example could be in a space by the windows in a high-rise building or if the place was in a non-busy area like the countryside. There are occasional noises, some make you perk up while other's make you laugh, all while intimately spooning with him. You tell him: it's an indescribable feeling but you will try explaining. Don't be scared, he'll love your words. Relating cock warming to something and being subtle instead of explaining outright would prompt his chest to blossom with love from you, it's the feeling you've brought out from him and to in expressing his feelings, he may cry a little and kiss you like 'Can you feel this love I feel for you? I love you'- is what he is trying to say through the kiss. It's a very wholesome moment, your confessions to each other, spoken beautifully. He would also love to cock warm bare, without any clothes so that the two of you can be purely intimate and he loves your body. If you don't or lack appreciation for your fine self, he'll initiate cock warming if you aren't already and kiss your body and squeeze the parts he can't reach like his appreciation for your butt/ breasts/ stomach or whichever one it is that you are conscious of/ don't love as much as possible. And the opposite too! If he's not feeling okay or feels conscious of himself (pressure from people telling him how artists should look?), cock warming would be a way for you two speak about it whilst loving one another at the same time.

Yoo Taeyang:

What a precious guy

May be confused about the concept at first, even awkward the first time you attempt this, it takes him a little while to get used to this scenario: laying on the bed in each other's arms after carefully navigating your limbs around, his cock in you, completely. But he warms up, he'll make sure that you are comfortable and will also love to take this concept elsewhere, like the living room when you watch tv. When he's tired, he may not be able to carry it out simply because he has no energy or he may be horny (head) but not (body), it happens~ When that happens, he wakes you up with kisses, all over your body and he'd do this, regardless of what happened the previous night, it's automatic for him. Another scenario would be when he is bored, laying around doing nothing and fumbling for something to do, he'd initiate cock warming, that little sigh when he slips into you, relief. From there, he may definitely not hold himself back, the two of you would end up having sex. If it's you and he's doing something and you want to sit on his cock, he'll set down what he is doing and let you. As you hold onto him, he'll notice your whimpers, softly decorating his ear, letting him know how much you want him. He'll tease you till you are hiding away in the crook of his neck or playfully hitting him but he'll satisfy your desires all night. It's for you. However, when he does want to cock warm, he'll snuggle into you, nestling his head over yours. Little touches, lingering over your waist will be presented to you, as well as his admiration for your body. He'll cock warm in your sex or ass. When it's in your ass, he'll take his time admiring your ass, your breasts, any place he can place a kiss on really but he's not really kissing, he's looking and telling you how much he loves you.

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Resident cutie

He's got you in the palm of his hand especially because of that cute face, cute expressions, cute mannerisms, overall a very lovable guy. Can be awkward sometimes but it's okay because his loving personality makes up for it. Is also a shy little bean at first which makes you want to shower him with lots of love and praise. Glady accepts your kisses and hugs, gets shy when you first do them but eventually reciprocates them. To the point where it's comfort, safety and that you can be vulnerable with each other. *This is quickly turning into a boyfriend! Hwiyoung*. It's something that he suggests, the idea of cock warming. Really your jaw should drop when you hear it from your boyfriend. After a sex session, when the both of you are all sweaty and won't go for another round, he wouldn't mind if you were on your knees, keeping his cock warm with your mouth. He could be leaning back on the seat, going through his favourite sites while you sit in between his legs, ignoring the ache in your thighs. He would have you cock warming naked, bare for him and only him to see while he himself is fully clothed. That session could have potentially included bdsm, in a separate room that you have specially for it and this time, you could have been flogged, denied your release or being used, whatever your fantasies may be. It could also be the opposite way where you are the dom. In that case, it would be a command or a form of bonding where he will be punished if he moves when he is in your sex or you cuddle and speak to one another about the session, respectively. If bdsm is not included, then he would love to cock warm! To him, he gets to be with you and speak to you- whatever it may be about. For example, it could be deep, philosophical conversations or you both cuddle and sleep. Either way, he likes spending time with you especially in such a quality manner.

Chani:

*insert a gulp and a surprised face*

Remember that SF9 was discussing about mature concepts as a part of planning for their Kingdom stages and the editors used a fish filter to emphasise Chani's round eyes or rather, his innocence. ''HUh!??!'' is his brain, whirring away like an air conditioner at an office, rolling round and round when you propose this concept. He goes blank and you just sit back, waiting patiently. It has come to this moment. But his smile grows and it keeps on growing till he's unexpectedly pulling you onto his lap and connecting your lips. He knows that you should discuss it first but first, he wants to have you as close as possible when you discuss this. At first, he's peppering kisses on your face with you giggling, telling him that you want to continue and then he says, ''one moment baby'' before he swoops in for your lips. You reciprocate the passion, the moment is neither heated nor too soft, just in between and you have a make-out session for a couple of minutes. He doesn't know why, it's random but the both of you are loving it, like an initiation ceremony into a new stage of your relationship. And here were all along, navigating blind (👀🚫). It's planned with enough space for creativity. You are on the bed and you squeeze his shoulders when he presses at your entrance and fills you up. You wait to adjust to him. At first he's like, ''This it?'' and you have to laugh at that, quite true that you also though the same thing. Soon he's kissing you all over, sucking your nipple and the area around it, turning it a shade darker: he's teasing you, taking his time till he's done cock warming. He tells you that he would love to try out cock warming in your ass sometime and then it's all giggles from there. You ask, ''did you search-'', cut off by his fingers that circle your clit and press, drawing a gasp or a hitch of the breath from you. Then he starts to rock his hips and you know that cock warming is over, at least for now. He's hovering on top of you and losing control over his thrusts and spilling into you later on. A common scenario would be when he's playing games and you are sitting on his cock, maybe sleeping or doing something else, unbeknownst to his friends that he's speaking with on his headset.

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

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

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

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

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

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

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[allherdaydreams]

Valley of Kings — Chapter One

Vali | The Middleman

Universe: Vikings Pairing(s): None yet (there will be several later on, mainly Ivar x fem!OC and much later on, Harald x fem!OC) Word Count: 3,160 Warnings: Bad writing ig? Author’s Note: I don't really love this lol, but I decided I'm just going to publish the chapters on here when I'm done and have slightly edited them and hope for some feedback, etc. Sorry if it's not great! Anyway, lemme know if you wanna be on a taglist and I’ll add you! Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated ❤️

read the prologue here

I remember the smell of the air — as spring was leaving, with summer slowly taking its place, the wind was gentle and sweet with the scent of wildflowers. The hunting cabin which belonged to the royal family of Kattegat rested in the foothills just east of the town; to the south surrounded by trees, and to the north, mountains. The smell of pine and woodbine lingered in the air, too, though all of the sweet scents of the wilderness were drowned out with that of the meat we roasted over the fire each night we stayed there.

I remember the way the grass tickled the back of my neck as my friends and I watched the clouds. I had never understood why Sigyn insisted on being barefoot every moment that we were out there, but in midday, the dew had only just faded and the greenery was soft underfoot. The clear blue sky gave us a false sense of security.

It was the last truly peaceful day I would have in a long, long time. I must have been fifteen or sixteen, but I had always looked and acted older. My friends were all older, too — I was the same age as the youngest son of Ragnar, Ivar, but I only spent time with him when his brothers were around. I had been inseparable from Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd since I was small. We all figured we would stay that way forever.

We had been at the cabin for many days, and planned to head back into town at the end of the upcoming week. That day, Hvitserk and I had both killed a deer, Sigurd had caught many rabbits in his traps, and Ubbe had tracked a boar, though he was still waiting for the right time to shoot it without the probability of getting attacked. (He was much wiser than Hvitserk and I; had it been either of ours to kill, we would have gone after it with no hesitation or regard for our safety at all.)

My sister had come with us — Ivar went, too, and wherever Ivar was, Sigyn was never far behind — but had never enjoyed hunting. Instead, she chose to spend the trip in and around the cabin, cooking and cleaning. When the chores were all done, she spent the rest of her time alone out in the yard, lost in her own head. She was, it seemed, daydreaming at nearly every waking moment of her life.

When we reached the cabin that day, we found her in her usual spot on the grass, staring off at the clouds even as we reached her. Ivar crawled toward her, but instead of trying to grab her attention, he only laid down next to her.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, staring up at the sky. As the other princes and I walked into the cabin, I heard Sigyn begin to tell a most detailed story, as she always did when Ivar asked that question.

"I am dreaming of a far away kingdom on the edge of the world..."

When we had resurfaced from the entrance of the cabin, Ivar and Sigyn were still laying in the same spot. Hvitserk had flashed me a grin as he nudged my arm before strutting over and laying down on the vacant side of Sigyn. Knowing he wished for me to follow, I laid down next to him.

"You know, Sigyn," Hvitserk said. "If you come with us to the Mediterranean, you will get to see a far away kingdom."

"Yes, Hvitserk, I know." She responded simply. "But it would not be as magnificent as the ones I dream about. Besides, I love Kattegat and I have no wish to leave. We have been over this."

Sigyn had always been straightforward. She was very honest about everything, and often didn't understand the difference between our jests or when we meant what we said. I suppose that my sweet sister assumed that everyone would be as charmingly frank about their feelings as her.

Sigyn had the softest, steadiest voice I had ever heard. She often kept a calm tone which made her seem as if she had the most level head in Norway. Only when she was in great distress or feeling something very strong did her tone ever noticeably change. Not to say she was emotionless by any means — she felt a great deal more than I could ever wrap my head around — but she was always calm. At least, she always was when she was around us.

"Are you going to be okay here while Mother and Father and I are gone, Sigyn?" I asked gently, leaning upwards just slightly to look over at her past Hvitserk. Hvitserk's brows furrowed slightly, and he looked over at her too as she gazed thoughtfully at the clouds. She nodded slowly, turning her head to meet our gazes.

"I think so. You will not be gone very long. I will have Ivar and Muninn." I smiled at her sweet tone, but had to keep myself from grimacing.

"We may be gone all summer," I reminded her.

"Or longer," added Hvitserk. She nodded again and looked back at the clouds.

"Perhaps you will. And I will miss you everyday. But you'll come back." Hvitserk and I looked at each other, and I shrugged as I laid back down. I knew she understood — she was always the more intelligent twin — but I just didn't want her to be hit with the emotions all at once when I would not be there to talk over them with her. We may not have spent every waking moment together, but we had never been separated in our lives.

We stayed there for a long time, quietly and sparsely conversing amongst ourselves. When Ubbe and Sigurd had finished skinning the meat for dinner, they called us over. Sigyn and Ubbe were the best cooks among us, so they were the ones to prepare our meal while the rest of us sat around them and talked. It was not long until we heard the sound of hooves coming up the path to the cabin, and Hvitserk and I stood and craned our necks to see who the incoming rider could be.

"It's Bjorn!" I called the others. Sigyn and Ubbe looked up then, put down the food, and quickly joined the rest of us as we all watched the eldest prince of Kattegat approach.

His expression was grim — though he was usually serious, I wasn't used to him looking so discouraged or unhappy. He dismounted his horse once he reached the cabin, tying the reins to a fence post.

"Hello, Bjorn," Sigyn said, walking up to him with a smile. She turned towards the tall horse, stroking his head gently, her attention now completely focused on the stallion. Bjorn smiled faintly as he gave her a nod.

"Hello, Sigyn," As he passed her, he patted her shoulder. Tearing his eyes away from my sister, he looked towards the rest of us, and his expression darkened again. "I come with news. You will all want to sit down."

By the time Bjorn had finished his story, all of our faces looked just as grim as his. Sigyn, who was sat on a bench behind Ivar, was the only one of us who didn't look angry in the slightest — her downcast eyes made it seem as if she was on the verge of tears as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through Ivar's hair. She had always had a habit of soothing herself with soft textures when anxious or upset; usually, one of us lent our hand or hair for her to play with, if there was no small animal close enough for her to pet.

We were all quiet and contemplative for a while, all of us stuck in our own thoughts. I wondered what Hvitserk was thinking.

"You think our father never knew?" Ubbe brought his gaze up from the table to the sky, which had turned to grey. I saw in his eyes a calculating worry. He was trying to find reason in something where there likely wasn't anything that was good enough to justify it.

"It's possible," Bjorn mused, watching the knife in his hands as he turned it over slowly. "In those early days, it wasn't easy to navigate the sea."

"He knew. He had to." Hvitserk spoke from beside me. I glanced at him and nodded in agreement.

"If he did, he should have told the people," Sigurd decided aloud. "Everyone lost relatives; fathers and uncles, sons and daughters. They would have demanded revenge."

"That is why he didn't tell them," Ivar shot back, glaring at Sigurd.

"What do you mean?" Ubbe asked as his brows furrowed. Ivar rolled his eyes.

"It was a waste of time." He said simply.

"Ivar..." Sigyn's voice trailed off. Her face made it clear that she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to approach her volatile best friend.

"They were dead, Sigyn! Ragnar wanted to sail to Paris. He wanted to be famous. Isn't that more important?" He turned to look at her, and she drew her hands back from his hair and into her lap. "Hmm?"

Sigyn looked at the ground.

"I don't think so," She said solemnly.

"You can say that." Bjorn replied, shrugging. Ivar turned again, back to facing his brothers and I.

"I can say that? What does that mean?"

"Here's what it means —" Hvitserk interjected. "— at least to me. Our father abandoned us. We were just kids, and he ran off. Only the Gods know if he's still alive. And now, we hear he kept this big secret from everyone. That he was not truthful or honest."

"This makes me feel sick," Sigurd shook his head again. "How could our father not tell the people what had happened?"

"Maybe if he had told them, they would have killed him." Bjorn replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"If it's true..." Ubbe began. "If it's true that our father lied to his people and abandoned them, then I hope he never comes back."

"He betrayed our name. If he ever came back, I would kill him." Hvitserk snarled, ripping Sigyn out of her mind and back into the present. Her head shot up to look at Hvitserk.

"Me too." Sigurd agreed. Sigyn looked back and forth between the two of them, her expression somewhere between alarm and betrayal.

"Screw you!" Ivar exclaimed. Hvitserk scoffed and looked down, shaking his head. "All of you. He never did anything wrong. He is our father. And that is the end of it. You all sound like a bunch of Christians."

"I love our father as much as you do—" Ubbe said, but was interrupted by Ivar.

"Who said I loved him, Ubbe? I said I admired him. He's Viking. And you are soft." Ivar's voice was defensive, challenging, angry; as he usually was.

"I am not soft! None of us—" Ubbe gestured to his other brothers and to me. "— are soft. But we want to understand what our father did, and what he was."

He crouched down in front of Ivar, glancing up at Sigyn before making eye contact with Ivar. "As his son, his fame does not interest me. What he used his power for—" Ubbe pressed a finger to his temple. "— now that would interest me."

"By now, my brothers, there will be a lot of anger in Kattegat. Now they know the truth. Our father betrayed a whole generation of people," Hvitserk said.

"So if he ever came back—" Sigurd started to say, causing Bjorn to sit up straighter and stare at his brother.

"I don't think he is ever going to come back!" Bjorn exclaimed, frustrated. "I think what happened in Paris finally broke him. You all can say whatever you want, but he was a human. People started to talk as if he was a God — he was not a God! He was a man! A man with many dreams and many failings. I've learned that in the years since he went away. If I was him, I wouldn't come back."

I glanced at my sister now, who was watching Bjorn sadly.

"Despite all his failings, he is still the greatest man in the world to me," Bjorn looked down at the ground again as finished his sentence.

"He cared for you — he cared for all of you," Sigyn said, looking to each prince in turn. "He made mistakes, but as Bjorn said, he is only human." Bjorn and Ivar nodded, but Hvitserk and Ubbe shook their heads.

"Sigyn, we were not lucky as you were to have a father that was there for us. If he truly cared enough, he would have stayed." Ubbe told her. His voice was gentle, as it always was when he spoke to her, but I could hear the frustration behind his words. "You should learn that about love now; love means loyalty. Dedication. You don't abandon those you love."

I watched my sister grapple with finding the right thing to say. Ivar reached a hand behind him, blindly reaching for Sigyn's own. Once he had grabbed it, he guided it to his shoulder before letting it go. Her fingers traced shapes onto his shirt.

"I must go to your home now, Vali, Sigyn," Bjorn looked towards each of us in turn. "I have more preparations for the voyage to discuss with you father, and now I should talk to him about this as well." I nodded at him.

"I will go with you," I replied, and looked towards Sigyn, who met my gaze.

"I should stay here, then. There is no need for both of us to go," She decided.

"Perhaps we should head back to Kattegat early," Ubbe suggested, looking to his brothers. "See the reactions of the people."

"We already know how the people will react, Ubbe," Hvitserk said. "But yes, we should go and see what we can do."

The journey to my home was longer than usual; we had gone around Kattegat instead of cutting through it, which was the quickest way there, but didn't seem appropriate. A silence hung between Bjorn and I for most of the journey.

"You did not speak," Bjorn said finally, just before we had reached my home. "You did not speak when we were discussing my father."

I nodded at him. "It was not my turn to speak. Not my conversation to have." Bjorn let out a short hum of amusement.

"I think you discount your wisdom. Or maybe your importance," Bjorn decided. I didn't have an answer to that.

We dismounted our horses as we reached out family's land. Bjorn walked ahead of me, but stopped slowly and leaned against one of my father's many souvenirs from past raids. I stopped beside him, and he glanced at me before nodding his head over to the water. When I followed his gaze, I was met with my parents wading in the shallows with the little model ships I had helped him make.

My father must have noticed our presence somehow, because he turned to look at us before he walked over. Bjorn drew close to him, then spoke in a low voice.

"Did you know Ragnar lied to us all? The settlement in Wessex was destroyed as soon as we left." My father looked from Bjorn to me, then to the ground as he thought for a moment. He nodded, glancing back to me before looking Bjorn in the eyes again.

"I knew," He said. "A farmer who had escaped the slaughter told you father and I what had happened. Then, Ragnar killed him, so no one else would find out."

"You were a good friend to my father," Bjorn replied simply.

"Bjorn? Vali?" My mother's voice reached my ears, and I turned from the men to her, smiling.

"Helga," Bjorn answered, immediately walking towards her.

"Hello, Mamma," I called to her, following Bjorn again.

"What brings you back so soon, Vali? I thought you were going to be gone hunting for another week," My mother questioned as she walked out of the water and met us on the sand, embracing me.

"I decided to come back early. We caught plenty of game," I lied, but she nodded and smiled as she drew away from me. She turned to Bjorn.

"And what brings you here, Bjorn?"

"I was just coming to see how the boats were progressing," Bjorn explained.

"What do you say, Helga? What shall we tell him?" My father asked, walking along the docks.

"We think that it won't be long before you have boats ready and able to take you to the Mediterranean Sea," My mother told Bjorn happily.

"If it exists," My father muttered.

"Of course it exists," Bjorn insisted, looking up from the model boat my mother had placed in his hands.

"It's just a map, Bjorn; marks on a paper. A child could have drawn it! How can we know it's real?" My father asked. Bjorn studied the boat more as he thought over his words carefully.

"I learned from my father. The only way to tell if something is real..." Bjorn knelt down, gently pushing the model back into the sea. "...is to sail there."

I would like to think I can remember everything of that day — of most days spent at the hunting cabin, in Kattegat; with my friends, with my sister; the days that bled into each other and the nights that ended with sunrise instead of slumber; that phase in my life where I was preparing for the rest of it, learning the arts and trades and traditions of my people.

Indeed, I would certainly like to think that nothing of those days has escaped my memory. But as I write this, and as I try to recall every moment of every day & night spent in the sweet comfort of home, of youth, of camaraderie with those whom I still love most in the world, I recognize that the mind is never so sharp as to be able to recall every last detail or feeling from many years prior. My mind is not as sharp as it once was, either — I have accepted that soon, if it hasn't already, it will begin to fail me.

Perhaps not all of this story happened in the way I remember it — who is to say, when so few of us are left and still able to recount our adventures? — but the stories of my people & my past deserve to be told. Otherwise, who will remember the Norsemen? The Vikings are gone. I am one of the last to be able to remember the Golden Age. This story is mine to tell.

tags // @peachyboneless @youbloodymadgenius sorry y’all probably forgot about this fic its been so long lmaoo i’ll unadd you if you want

[cristophynn]

the coffee shop — chapter one

summary: it all started out when satan decided to take on a part-time job in a café near his place. by how things played out, he thought that maybe the two of you weren't meant to be and that you were just a dumb high school crush everyone has. fate had other plans, though, and he was sure as hell that it wasn't a dumb crush anymore.

pairing: satan/reader

warnings/tags: underage drinking, implied/referenced child abuse, family drama, mutual pining, ANGST

author's note: again, this has a lot of angst,,, on the bright side, this series has a happy ending! this is an au where everyone is human and reader has they/them pronouns. <3

ao3 work: the coffee shop.

It was already turning seven in the morning when the blonde was walking to school like usual. He shivered a bit when a gush of cold wind hit his face, and he audibly cursed at the air and temperature. Being in the coldest city in Japan, he should be used to this — but he still wasn't. He preferred to beginning of the school year and he was already tired of it, especially when he had to walk around school and neighborhood only to become known as Mammon's delinquent brother.

He was known for being arrested a month ago due to underage drinking just before the previous school year ended, including his whole group of friends. People were scared of him — maybe because of his evident scowl that never left his face. The rumor about him didn't help either, and even if Mammon cleared them up and denied it, people didn't want to believe it. Eventually, he just ended up telling his older brother to not mind those rumors. Besides, the one who spread those came up with the most bizarre rumors, and people ended up believing them just because they didn't like him. All of it was absurd, such as he was the leader of a gang, or he secretly had a job on producing drugs. There was even a rumor about him being sent to a juvenile detention center, for fuck's sake. He had to walk around and listen to people constantly talking shit to others about him being such an asshole despite being rich, and the next reply would always be something about why he couldn't be like his older brothers or sister.

It was true that the youngest child of the Samael Family was a person who was hot-headed and cussed at everyone. He drank a lot and rebelled against his family. Satan never smiled at anyone, except when he was looking at cats or when he was talking to his friends. He hung out with a group of assholes and jocks, and he sneaks out at night to go to parties. He was quick to anger and didn't hesitate to snap back to anyone. He was, admittedly, the child who had the most issues in their family, but did Satan Samael give a fuck? Not at all. He knew all too well that even if he was a mess, he was still a nice kid and the smartest one out of all of them.

If he were to boast about it, he was the only one who wanted to take up a course related to medicine, which was basically a dream come true to his mother who he cherished oh so much. He had straight A's despite skipping classes at times, and he always answered well when he was made to recite. He tried to not worry his mother too much and always made her favorite meal whenever they were doing their reading sessions together. He bought a lot of books for them to read and researched a lot. He went to animal shelters often just to donate money and other animal needs. His inner gentleman was hidden away, but it always shows up whenever there was someone who treated him nicely. Since Lilith went to a different school (a prestigious music school), he insisted on walking to school alone instead of riding one of their cars for many different reasons and knew how to defend himself just in case. He even insisted going to school in a public school ever since he was in middle school so it wouldn't be a hassle to get there compared to his other siblings (who went to private schools all their lives). His brothers and his only sister all went to the other side of town to get to their own destination, and he was the one left alone. Satan was a nice kid behind that stone cold wall of wrath, and only his family knew about it.

He was on that street by that café he always passed by and didn't pass a single glance at it, but he couldn't help but actually look at it properly when he saw through his peripheral vision someone who looked around his age wiping at the window. Two signs were hung on the door and one of them read 'open' in capital letters, while the other read that they were looking for a part-time worker. He figured that the person worked part-time there. He contemplated for a bit as he watched you wipe down on the windows. Well, he was planning on skipping classes, so working and applying in that café might be better. Without hesitating, he approached the barista and stood next to you, immediately saying, "You're accepting part timers?"

Satan felt guilty afterwards when he saw how you were obviously taken by surprise, judging by the look on your face and how you were gripping your uniform so tightly. "Oh my fucking god—" You huffed before taking in his appearance. He watched as you eyed him for a bit, particularly just scanning (read: taking a good look) at his face for a few moments, before smiling wide and taking your hand away from the window, the rag still in your hand. There seemed to be a look of realization that was glinting in your eyes. "Oh, hey! I know you!" There it was. He figured that you would end up saying that, but not with that smile. He knows that you'll end up saying that he's Mammon's brother or that juvenile delinquent or that underage drinker or that blon—

"Of course we are! Satan, right?" 

Wait, what?

"Oh." That was all he could manage to mutter out after that statement. A few seconds of something in between peaceful and awkward silence was shared between the two of you, your smile never faltering for even a bit. He cleared his throat and spoke up once more. "Yeah. How did you know?"

The laughter that bubbled from your throat was a different feeling. He's never met someone who was all smiley and nice before, and he certainly has never met someone who didn't know him from stories or rumors about him being total jackass before. "My cousin from my mother side goes to the same fine arts university that your brothers go to and he specialises in dance." You explained as you laid your hand back on the window, going back to wiping and making sure it was spotless. "They went over a few days ago to work on a group project and your brothers told us about the whole family. It was mostly Beel, though, while Belphie slept and added some rather negative side remarks. Also, hey, do you think you could wipe that top portion for me? It's usually uncle who does this, but he's sick." You looked back at him, and he didn't hesitate to take the rag for you and wipe down on the area you couldn't reach.

"You live with your cousins?" Satan asked as he continued wiping as you went behind him to take the backpack hanging by one of his shoulders, and when he felt your hands by the straps of his bag, he let you take it to he could comfortably clean. "Also, what did they say about me?" He asked with his head turning a bit to take look at you, and you gave him a gentle grin as you held his heavy backpack close to your chest. Actually, heavy was a fucking understatement. It awed you how he had to walk to school and walk back home with this heavy backpack, because he looked thin and didn't really look like he would be able to lift up that heavy of a bag.

"Yeah, I studied too early and got accelerated when I was in 7th grade, but I didn't want to go to college early so I went to Japan to work for a bit and make some money." You answered his first question as he handed back the rag towards you in the middle of your sentence and took back his bag from you. You were walking back inside, and before you could open the door to the café, he was fast enough to hold it open for you to go in. "Beel said that you were favored by your mom, and that you were absolutely smart. Belphie said that you were an asshole, but I didn't really want to believe that." You smiled wide as you stepped inside and waited for him to enter, leading him to the employee's supply room that had shelves for storage. Satan felt the warm air that came from the heater hit his body, and he sighed in relief as he freely took off his winter coat. 

"Why so? What makes you sure that I'm not one?" He asked once again with a raised eyebrow, setting his bag down by one of the shelves and hanging his coat by the coat rack in the supply room. He stood there and watched you go through a box full of aprons with the café's logo on it.

With that bright grin of yours that never seemed to leave your face, you had an apron in hand and gave it to him, mentally hoping that the apron you gave him was the right size. He hesitated for a few seconds before deciding to finally slip off his blazer and remove his necktie with the RAD school logo. He then placed the apron neatly on top of his white dress shirt. "Well, I know for a fact that you're your mother's favorite. I don't think you'll be her favorite if you weren't nice. You wouldn't be here either if you weren't someone nice." You stated and reached up a hand to give his shoulder a light pat, before turning around to go back outside. 

Satan stood still, unmoving and shocked by the sudden skin contact, and he was left alone in the supply room. It was only when you yelled for him to come out that he snapped out of his trance, and with a genuine smile gracing his features, he stepped out of the dark room to start his first day of his part-time job.

"I'm home." Satan spoke as he entered the large mansion that they considered as their home. It was unusual for him to come home early, and even the guard who was on his shift was surprised to see him already home. His personal butler, who was in the middle of drinking tea and reading a book that he recently bought in the lounge room, was the first one to greet the blonde man.

"You're home already? Your school ends at 3:15, and you usually hang out with your friends until 8, right?" Azazel asked with a small smile at the sight of the boy he took care of since he was practically in diapers. He was like the son he could never have, of course, since he was way too content with his work to be thinking of having a family. "Did you even go to school?"

Azazel grew up in a decent family with an adoptive younger sister named Akuma, who was younger than him by ten years. He had just the perfect shade of baby pink hair and had the softest, burgundy-colored eyes. It was all complimented by his pale skin that was as soft as a baby's bum, and he had an average build and height. Add all those together, and he was an actual carbon copy of his mother. Their parents were unfortunately unable to provide for their needs anymore, and Azazel had to stop studying in the middle of his second year of college at the fresh age of 19 due to the lack of income. So, he ended up dropping out and decided to start working for his family, not wanting the lack of money to ruin his younger sister's dream of becoming an anesthesiologist. He was lucky enough that Barbatos, one of his close cousins, were able to refer him to a job without a college degree. He was lucky enough to get accepted right away, since the man's wife was weeks away from giving birth. After she gave birth, out came Satan and he was assigned to be his personal butler. He basically raised him alongside Mrs. Samael, more often than the boss of the house did.

Satan scoffed as he slipped off his shoes and neatly placed it on his own shoe shelf by the wall. There were times that he envied his brothers by the amount of luxuries and expensive presents that they got from families. Their personal shoe shelves were all filled to the brim, while the shoe shelf that was under his name only filled three shelves out of ten. He knew he wasn't the most decent member of the family, and that he shouldn't even care about it, but he couldn't help it. It was hard to not feel guilty for his birth or envious of his brothers whenever he remembers that he was the unplanned child, the problem kid, and the boy full of nothing but wrath. It was hard not to remember it when he remembered that the bedroom he had right now didn't exist in the first place and was just two regular guest rooms who had the wall between them taken last minute.

"Come to my room then, Azazel. I'll tell you all about my day today." Satan answered with a small grin at his father-like figure before making his way up to his room. Closing the book in his hand after marking the page where he left off, he placed the hard-covered material on the rather large coffee table next to his cup of tea and wasted no time in following his young master.

After the long flight of stairs up to his room, Satan was already comfortable in the presence of his private space. It was a room of his dreams, really, something you would see in castles based off the countless novels he read— a large window was directly across the room from his door with a built in, window-nook, king size bed of the same length. His room was rather spacious and everything was neat. Just beside the door was a clothes rack where hung his pyjamas and other clean clothes that he regularly wears (because he never sweats for some god-awful reason). On the left size of the room was a large bookshelf that was built into the wall and was almost full of books, with only a few shelves remaining. A cozy-looking sectional couch was there, along with a large coffee table in front of it and a mini refrigerator to the side. There was a smart television in front of the couch just by the wall beside the door, and it was completed with a small table that was just framed pictures, awards, and medals. The right side of the room was near where the bed ended. There was a large study desk where two Mac Pros were placed on, and just underneath that was where he usually placed his school bags. There were two doors, one that led to his own bathroom and another that led to his walk-in closet. His room was mostly white and dark green themed, so his inner slytherin beneath his ravenclaw demeanor was rather pleased.

"So? Where were you off to today that you decided to skip school?" Azazel asked with a chuckle, freely making his way over to the dark green couch and comfortably taking a seat on the soft cushions. His slanted eyes were turned into crescents when he smiled, and his burgundy irises never failed to glint with happiness towards the boy who he practically raised.

Satan couldn't help but let out a laugh as he walked over to the study desk he had by the corner and set his backpack down on the seat. That's only when Azazel had realized that Satan was only wearing the white, long-sleeved dress shirt that was part of his school's uniform, and that the dark blue blazer and yellow necktie with the words RAD was nowhere to be found. A few moments, Satan had pulled out a dark brown apron that was just about his size and gave his butler a big smile. "I got a part-time job at this café that I passed by all the time just earlier." He said, throwing over the apron to his butler, who only caught it and checked the logo of the café. "I decided that I'll work for around 5 hours on the weekdays and 7 hours on the weekends. I'll just have to work after school, so I'll have to be finished around 8 or 9 probably."

"Dreamland Café." He looked up after reading the logo that was printed in white lettering. He handed back Satan the apron by tossing it in the same way, and the teenager swiftly caught it before placing it back neatly inside his backpack. "So, you won't be drinking anymore? What got you into this, anyway?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'd still drink." Satan rolled his eyes as if he had just heard the most bizarre thing ever whilst walking over to the clothes rack and unbuttoning his dress shirt to change out of his clothes. Without hesitating, he took off his dress shirt and changed into his dark green oversized tank top. "There was a barista wiping the windows and they couldn't reach it. Foreign, but they spoke in really good Japanese. The café was hiring part-time, and I'd really stay outside rather than see father's face."

Azazel only laughed at his statement. He was used to his antics already, and honestly, the part time job was just one of his mild ones, so he didn't mind it. He always sided and defended Satan no matter what, because he obviously needed that. Ever since Satan was a child, he hated his old man. Actually, the word hate was an understatement for his feelings towards that ghy. He despised him and was disgusted at everything he does. He always wanted to smack a punch on his pretty little smirk. He talked shit about him and couldn't stand him, even when all that Lucifer did was just breathe in his direction.

"Just don't let your father find out then. You know how he'll react." The butler stood up, adjusting his necktie a bit before making his way to the door and gently taking hold of the knob. "I suggest telling your mother though. She might want to know about this, especially when she finds out you're leaving on weekends."

That's where Satan found himself regularly ditching his friends' hangouts and stopped drinking regularly everyday for the past two months. He was always looking forward to the time he would make it to the café, and even went to the extent of buying himself an electric bike just to get to the café faster (which he will never admit to you that he did, but you already knew it). He had to admit, he grew fond of you and the little family he formed with the café owners. He started to enjoy just talking about random things and laughing all the time while he did his homeworks. He was just the person who usually took people's orders, which was why he was able to finish his homeworks earlier compared to the times he stayed out drinking. After his shifts, he would stay and have dinner with you and the family, most of which was home cooked meals that he rarely had since he used to just eat junk food.

He couldn't care less about his salary, really. His first paycheck was something he was shocked at (and him mentally asking, "how can someone who lacks so much money be so generous?"), and so he specifically asked for the minimum wage and only asked to count in for 3 hours everyday. When he requested for that, of course your aunt was hesitant about accepting that request, but Satan just kept insisting and even told her how he didn't need the money. He really just wanted to spend his time somewhere else, and that explanation was enough for your aunt to agree and just go with the decision he asked for. So, every 23rd of the month, he gets a paycheck of ¥58000 to ¥60000.

By the time summer vacation started, he had already changed his wallpaper on his desktop to one specific group picture of the people he got close to— your aunt and uncle was on each side with big smiles on their faces, your two cousins and their spouses were at the back and what seemed to be laughing in the background, your niece and nephew was right at the front and playing around without noticing the camera shot, your cousin that was still in college was laying on the floor and doing an attempt of his embarrassingly sexy french girl pose, while you and Satan were right in the middle of the picture with a content smile on your faces. It would never make his heart flutter, and he even went to print out the picture and have it framed to add it to the collection of pictures in his room. His phone's wallpaper, on the other hand, was a selfie that you secretly took. He didn't know when that picture was taken, but he was surprised to find that (along with about more than 30 selfies) while he was scrolling through his gallery to find the picture of the history lecture that was written on the board.

He found himself already too attached to the whole bunch of people he met, especially you. He found himself laughing and smiling more, or even taking care of your niece and nephew along with their pet cat at some days. It was like he was part of a family that genuinely cared and loved for each other despite not being as wealthy as them. He loved his family, as much as he hated to admit it, but he just loved spending more time at the café since it was fun. There was this warmth that he always had in this chest whenever he spent his time there. So when the days passed and he realized that it was already July, he was thrilled. Sure, it's where he finally gets to ditch the thick uniforms and long-sleeved outfits for the winter that their school provides, and finally wear the short-sleeved dress shirt without the stupid necktie or the blazer. He was mostly looking forward to the promise he made about working for 8 hours during the weekdays and staying at home on the weekends to do his homeworks all day during summer vacation.

There were times when he zoned out for a few minutes just looking through those selfies you took on his phone, and he didn't even realize that he already had a folder specifically just for your pictures and named it as eyebleach just for him to stare at. One weekend, he was suddenly panicking and letting out loud screeches. He went as far as cursing at himself too loudly that it could be heard by the whole floor (which mainly just consisted of the family's bedrooms), and when Levi came to check up on him out of worry and annoyance since he couldn't focus on the codes he was typing into his desktop, Satan was already under his blankets and red-faced. He thought he could sleep it off and that he'd wake up without the butterflies, but when he checked his phone to look at the time and see that you were calling him at three in the morning, he suddenly felt his heart flutter even more and his face warm up at the idea of talking to you late at night. And, that's when he confirmed to himself that he really was starting to take a shine towards you.

The first one of his siblings who found out about his wallpaper and insane crush on you was Asmo, and Satan literally had to beg and cry about how his older brother couldn't tell it to anyone. Asmo could only laugh and just agree with it. Despite Asmo's being curious on who the heck you were and how you two met, he decided to not let his curiosity get the best of him and continue on with his work. Lilith was the next one to find out, and she literally squealed and just asked Satan for more information about you, but Satan just stood his ground and stayed silent even after his older sister practically whined and continuously hit him with cushions and pillows. If Mammon or Levi finds out, he'd be exposed for sure. Levi would be whining about how it wasn't fair that he was seeing someone at his age and that he'd be the first one to get laid (and not just be in a one night stand or a regular hookup), while Mammon would be constantly teasing him and giving him weird nicknames. Although he seemed like he wouldn't be the type to do that, Lucifer would ask him everyday about you and possibly meet up with you, giving a request to date him or marry him in the future all while going on about how Satan was in love with you, which was annoying because Lucifer gets on his nerves a lot. Beel and Belphie are the only ones who are the most sane, since Beel would just smile and nod before going back to eating his food, while Belphie would just brush him off and go back to getting his sleep.

(Belphie knew about his crush on you though, and he didn't know how that happened or where he met you, but he just happened to find out about it. He just didn't bother Satan about it.)

Currently, he was in the café and had just finished taking orders from the surprisingly long line of customers. He was seated on one of the seats that were near the counter and was in the middle of reading a new book that he bought earlier while he was shopping for the list of ingredients and supplies that your aunt asked him to buy in the nearest mall. It was a story about a ghost woman who came back from the dead after five years and was given 49 days to take back her place into being her husband's wife and her five-year-old daughter's mother, except her husband already remarried and that her daughter thinks that her step-mom was her real mom. It was a really good book, and he ended up shedding a few tears (read: a bucket of tears) while he was reading the first chapter of the story. He was reading the second chapter of the story and was already at the part where Yuri, the ghost mom, was finally able to hold her daughter and hug her after coming back from the dead and was just about to shed a few tears until he heard a car pull up into a park from outside. He paused his reading session and looked up, before choking on his breath upon seeing the familiar sight of his two eldest brothers and their personal butlers come out of the car.

"Shit. This is bad." He cursed under his breath before hurriedly using a clean piece of tissue as his bookmark and closing it, placing it beside the cash register and rushing off to where you sat. You were just in the middle of eating one of the freshly-made glazed doughnuts when the handsome blonde approached you with a panicked look on his face. He was in such a panic that you couldn't help but panic along with him, standing up in a hurry and placing the doughnut down and waiting for him to speak up. "My older brothers are here. I don't think they'll like it when they find out I work here. Let's exchange spots real quick, please?"

Your eyes gazed over to the glass windows and door quickly and took a look at the four men walking over to the entrance. Without hesitation, you swallowed down the doughnut you were chewing and nodded before making your way over to the counter while wiping the crumbs off your face with your sleeve. You turned your head a bit, only to see Satan taking his black face mask out from the apron's pocket and placing it on his face. You took off your bucket hat that was on your head to toss it at him, and you held back a laugh when you saw him struggling a bit as it fell to the ground. The sound of the bell ringing from the door opening made you turn around to the entrance, while Satan was quick to crouch and pick up the accessory to wear it and hide his face from his brothers. Two men— one who had pale skin and rich black hair, and another who had actual white hair and taupe brown skin urged two men to sit on a table, despite their protests. A bright grin was on your face in an instant and greeted them as they approached, "Good afternoon, welcome to Dreamland Café. May I take your order?"

You were waiting patiently as they read through the large menu that was on the wall just beside the counter, and you even stole a glance behind you to check on Satan. He was scrolling through his phone and seated where you were previously sitting. His half-assed disguise really was clever, since his hair wasn't visible from the front due to the bucket hat's brim that was wide enough to cover his face from the side, and his face mask would cover his face if he faces the front. You turned back to look at the two men who were now staring at you. "We'll have one iced americano, two cups of earl gray tea, and one iced caramel macchiato." Lucifer stated his order as he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet.

"Is that all?" You asked as you started pressing the specified drinks that were stated on the cashier's monitor. You heard another voice speak up soon after, which you looked up to smile at them politely.

"Oh, get me two strawberry waffles! One for me, and one for my butler." Mammon was grinning wide, and you chuckled before nodding.

You pressed over to the buttons that contained the additional desserts said before totalling it all, repeating the names of their orders to clear it up. "One iced americano, two cups of earl gray tea, an iced caramel macchiato, and two strawberry waffles— The total will be ¥3000." Lucifer nodded and handed over a banknote of ¥5000, and you took the said bill from the man and opened up the cash register. "Please tell me your name as we will be calling out your name for you to be able to collect your order." The noisy sound of the bill printing was heard, and just when you were about to take two bills of ¥1000 in the cash register, his next statement was enough to stop you in your movements.

"The order is for Lucifer. Also, please just keep the change. I don't mind at all." The elegant man gave you a polite grin, and the sound of his deep chuckle was heard from him. Without another word, the two men walked away to their table and continued discussing their personal matters.

Behind you, Satan was listening to the small interaction between you and his older brothers. His hands were clenched into a fist and his teeth were gritting, yet he held back so that he would avoid breaking something. He'll just have to drink this away later.

"Why are you so mad?" You asked him, and you could feel him stiffen underneath your touch. His hard gaze didn't waver, though, but you could see a faint rosy pink starting to dust his cheeks.

Satan was rushing to get out of the café the moment his shift ended. "Where are you going?" You asked with a frown on your face, and you felt your heart ache badly when he didn't pay no mind to answer your question. Without hesitating, you stood up from your place and followed him out as fast as you could. You were already by Satan's electric bike when you were able to catch up to him, so you gently took hold of his wrist. "Hey, look at me, won't you?" You said with frustration evident in your voice, and when he finally decided to meet your eyes, you saw how dark his expression was. He was stiff, his eyes were dark, and it was evident that he was gritting his teeth. You knew how little his patience was, that is after witnessing him getting mad at a drunk customer who was rude to your aunt, and it really did take a while for him to calm down. He was someone who held grudges for a long time, and he was someone who got irritated easily.

"Why are you so mad?" You asked him, and you could feel him stiffen underneath your touch. His hard gaze didn't waver, though, but you could see a faint rosy pink starting to dust his cheeks.

"It's nothing. I'm just going out for a drink." Satan answered with an evident pout on his face, his eyes softening after a few moments and moving his gaze away from you. He wants to look somewhere— anywhere else but you, because he's sure that he'll turn into a blushing mess in front of you. His brows were furrowed while his cheeks were a bit puffed out, and it reminded you of a little kid whose mom didn't buy their favorite toy. Just when you were about to reply, his gaze hardened once more and that blush was gone. "Just stay here. Don't worry about it."

Satan was secretive of emotions. He hardly showed how he was feeling, and nobody could tell what he was thinking or what his true intentions were behind the usual coy smile on his lips, and even behind the scowl he used to wear on his face. Truth being told, he was jealous. He had zero intention of letting the rest of his brothers know of his little crush on you or his part-time job in this café that deserved the title as his second home. But, the fact that said brothers decided to have a snack at the café he works at, and that it was Lucifer out of the five of them, just enraged him. The sight of his older brother being all goody-goody and all smiley with you at the cash register made his blood boil.

He was the exact opposite of his older sister. He was the actual personification of wrath in a rebellious teenage boy's body, going against his father's every will and having to go through the pain of getting compared to her everyday. They were actual carbon copies of each other— blonde hair that was parted on the same side, and the same gradient of blue and light green eyes that became a beautiful shade of teal in the middle when the two colors met. Except, she was the definition of a teenage girl who was far more patient than her younger brother and favored by their demon of a father. He loved his sister, really, but what he didn't love was the constant comparison and the shame their father puts on him ever since he could remember, the youngest of the Samael family.

That led to his impatience and the constant feeling of being annoyed by everything. He became unable to hold back his anger at anything that gets him going, and it caused him to rebel against his father's wishes because he was always happy when his father was disappointed. Pushing his buttons was something he enjoyed doing, and the comparison didn't even phase him in the slightest anymore. Lucifer, on the other hand, was a different story. He loved Lucifer as much as he hated to admit it. His eldest brother (and Azazel) became more of his father than their actual old man will ever be— and Satan was thankful for it. He was just pissed because Lucifer was the person that he could talk to a lot of matters about, and just the sight of Lucifer talking to you just made him jealous.

His jealousy led to where he was at minutes ago— drunk after having several bottles of whiskey and asleep on one of the tables. He drunk-called Asmodeus, full and having finished two bowls of oden, and honestly people watching him were absolutely curious on how the hell he was still able to use his handphone. He was picked up by a worried Asmodeus and his frustrated boyfriend, Solomon, who Satan met on several occasions. He was supposed to call in his butler, but Azazel was too sweet of a man and Satan didn't want to bother him. Moments later, though, he found himself already drunk calling you before they could notice. The sound of his drunk greeting and hiccups made you almost think it wasn't him, until the dots in your head connected and it all made sense to you now.

"And you told me that I shouldn't be worried." You groaned out in frustration at the drunk blonde's voice. He called you in the middle of your sleep, and just the sound of his drunken slurs were enough to prevent you from getting cranky. If you could listen closely, there were car honkings that were heard in the background, followed by a string of curses that didn't exactly sound like Satan. "Where the hell are you?"

On the other line, you could hear Satan letting out drunken giggles. "MC!! Your—" A hiccup. "Your highness—!! I am… Inside— Asmodeus, my dearest big brother's car!! I have come to rescue you from the… Big mean dragon!!" He slurred out, and let out another hiccup, and you swore you could hear a thud and the voice, who was cursing earlier, yell at him in the background.

You chuckled a bit, and before you could even reply, there was the sound of what you could describe as wind blowing or something and Satan's loud whining, before a cheerful voice came in the background. "Oooh, so you're MC?" The voice said, before letting out a soft giggle. "You see, our youngest one here is quite drunk at the moment, and he rolled off the backseat when the car stopped." He explained, which you realized what might have been the loud thud earlier. "Well, Satan will talk to you tomorrow! Get some rest, and I apologize for waking you up! Goodnight!"

That was the end of the conversation before the call was dropped, leaving you laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. You knew he got drunk often, based on what you heard from the twins, but you certainly didn't expect that he'd end up drunk calling you today. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the thought of him slurring and rolling off the backseat, and that imagination was just enough to make you drift off back to sleep with a small smile on your face.

Time passed by like a breeze, and soon, it was already December. Of course, the weather in Otaru City falls dramatically low in this season and it would make you feel like you were in a damn freezer, which explained the turning off for the air conditioning of the café and to turn on the heaters. It was the 23rd of December. The snow was slowly starting to fall and make the whole temperature colder than usual, and the thick Christmas sweater you were wearing definitely didn't help the current situation. There were a lot of customers in the café, sipping away on their hot drinks and having dates with their friends or lovers. Just watching them interact made you feel lonely already, because it was a fucking cuddle weather and somebody (read: Satan) wasn't there to cuddle you.

So there you were, waiting like Juliet by the counter and sulking as you checked the time every so often. You were getting impatient by the minute, and by the time it was already 3:15, you kept looking up at the door only to be met with disappointment when it wasn't Satan who arrived. After a countless cycle of expecting and being disappointed for what felt like hours, Satan finally arrived ten minutes after 4, panting and sweating a bit despite the cold weather. You could only let out an amusing laugh at the sight of his tired face, and he couldn't help but give an amused smile at the sight of you. You didn't care about the number of customers at the moment and chose to rush up to the blonde boy, who was still panting by the doorway in his thick blazer and winter coat that you knew he hated with a passion. "You seem like you were rushing to get here." You chuckled as you took off his heavy bag for him, and he instantly took off his winter coat along with his blazer, holding them in one hand.

Satan nodded with a grin, smiling wide as he held the door open for you and let you step out first. "Alright. It already sounds delicious, but what else do I expect from the best chefs in Hokkaido?" He chuckled and closed the door behind him once the both of you were outside, going ahead to take his place on the counter and sit on the high stool.

"Well, just sit your good-looking ass on that stool and wait. I'll brew you some Earl Grey and prepare a plate from the best chefs in Hokkaido to give you an early taste of the menu." You laughed as you teased him, and you could see the tip of his ears visibly flush red at the first sentence. You then headed towards the kitchen where the rest of the family usually stays. Before you could enter, though, you heard him yell out to you about making it cold brewed, to which you yelled back in understanding.

He took off his tie and managed to utter out a response through his pants. "I was." He gave a nod, and he followed your steps as you started to make your way to the counter. "I needed the heater in this café. It's freezing, and the school's heater wasn't warm enough." He said by the time he finally was able to catch his breath, retrieving his school bag from you and taking his apron from inside, sighing softly. "I suppose biking too fast made me dizzy and hungry. I didn't want snow to fall on me either."

"Yeah. The weather says that the first snowfall was supposed to happen around 5, though, so you're in luck to get here early." You smiled as you placed his bag down on the shelf, watching as he combed through his hair and wiped the small beads of sweat trailing down his face with his handkerchief. "You can have a plate of aunt's new garlic bread recipe and uncle's new sardine pasta. They're not really part of the menu yet and we plan on adding them on Christmas, but you can have them first while you rest up."

Satan was patiently waiting by the counter and taking orders from customers who came in, and he just listened to the speakers that were blaring out classical music. His favorite in Vivaldi's Four Seasons Concerti was playing at the moment, which was the third movement of his winter concerto. He always enjoyed listening to classical music, and it was definitely the best genre in his opinion. Of course, there were times that he wished that he continued taking his piano lessons when he was younger so he would be able to play it like the ones he listened to, but what could he do about it? He ran off from piano lessons every time until the teacher became sick of it, leaving the poor instrument collecting dust in one room that nobody really uses anymore.

By the time you came out of the kitchen, it was already quarter to five, and Satan had finished two bottles of water already. The scent of the freshly cooked pastry and pasta was enough to make his mouth water, and he turned around to see that he was bringing you a tray of the unreleased menu dishes and a small jug of cold-brewed earl grey tea. With that oh-so-familiar bright smile on your face that he grew to love over the months, you approached him and set the tray in front of him. He just kept staring at your face, and your next words cut him out of his trance. "Go on, try it! I promise you, you'll like it!" You urged him on, taking a seat on the empty stool next to him.

Snapping back to reality and mentally slapping himself for staring at you like a fucking idiot, Satan hurriedly took the fork and knife that was resting on the tray. He first sliced a small piece of his garlic bread that looked like it just came out of the oven, revealing hot cheese stretching as he pulled up the piece to his lips and blowing on it. After a few moments, he popped the piece into his mouth, and he felt like all his taste buds just exploded from the rich flavor of the garlic and cheese that somehow melted together, a delicate taste that made him hungry for more of the newly-baked pastry. After swallowing down on the piece, his fork that was resting on his right hand was put to use as it collected a forkful of sardine pasta that seemed freshly cooked, and once again brought it past his lips to take the whole forkful. He didn't hold back the satisfied sound that came from his throat, almost like a hum, and smiled wide at the taste. Of course, what else could he expect from who he referred to as the best chefs in Hokkaido, anyways?

"It's delicious!" Satan exclaimed, to which you responded with a chuckle and a nod, signalling him to continue on with his meal. There was a peaceful atmosphere in the café. With classical music in the background, people's chattering around you, and you two staring at each other's eyes with smiles on your faces— you felt comfortable. The temperature in Otaru definitely went lower, but the warmth stirring up in your chest was enough to convince you that it was the same day as always. Just you and Satan by the counter, taking orders and serving people their meals.

You heard the kids in the café rushing up to the window and yelling as they looked out at what was happening, and when you turned your head to look at them, you saw the first falling of snow of the winter season right in front of you. There were couples smiling and taking pictures of the snow, and some were giving kisses to their significant others. Teenagers would keep chatting with their friends after taking pictures of the falling snow. When you turned to look back at the blonde teen sitting next to you, your eyes met with his blue-green ones, and you felt your heart thump against your chest at the eye contact. Your eyes were slowly taking in every single detail that was on his face— such as how his blonde hair was just the right kind of messy, or how his eyes were just the perfect gradient from blue to green. When your eyes came down to look at his lips, they looked so soft and warm. His skin definitely looked clear and soft, too, and in the back of your mind, you wondered about what his skin routine was.

More importantly, though, the words that were on your mind were just questions alone that consisted along the lines of mostly; When the hell did he look so attractive? and There's no way I'm starting to like him, right? because you constantly thought of yourself as someone not worthy to be liked, and your self-confidence was just going down the drain.

"People say that when you spend time with someone on the first snow, you'll be staying with them for a long time." Satan's words snapped you back to reality, causing you to jump a bit at your seat. "Well, I hope that's true. I really want to stay with you and your family for a long time, you know?"

Satan was being honest when he said those words, and he always thought that you wouldn't end up liking someone back that was him— a delinquent that was feared by people in their neighbourhood. It never crossed his mind, and whenever people would bring up about that subject, he would just laugh it off as it was some dumb joke.

For the eight months he worked alongside you, he got to know you well enough that there were things he saw or lines he heard that would remind him of you. In his school, when it was time for the daily classroom cleanups, there would always be this one short student who wouldn't be able to reach the top half of the blackboards and whiteboards, and the tall student cleaning near them would always help them out. It would bring him back to the time he met you, and how he wouldn't be happier and healthier if he didn't help you out. He wouldn't have a part-time job that he would consider as an escape, nor would he have the second family that he always wanted to have (since he didn't really consider school as his second family). He wouldn't have stopped skipping classes or continue to constantly ruin his liver by drinking every night.

For eight months, he kept growing feelings for you that he never experienced before. At first, it was all mild. In the beginning, it was simply just some sort of excitement or motivation for him to keep up his work because he's gaining a new friend that actually encouraged him to be a better person. He thought it was something he could get over, that is until he realized that his feelings weren't really fading away. Lilith and Asmo already knew about it, so Satan knew that it was impossible for his whole crush on you to not be known by the rest of his siblings. He couldn't forget when Belphie and Beel suddenly approached him one night while he was in the middle of reading a book to ask him about you, or when Mammon suddenly started teasing him about his little crush on you whenever he was passing by the hallways. Leviathan was of course envious, and he was quick to shoot Satan with unending questions about his lovelife. Their mom was absolutely ecstatic when she found out about it and kept asking Satan when he'll ask her out. Lucifer was the last one to find out and seemed absolutely uninterested by the news, but Satan knew that he'd one day visit the café just to have a little chat with you. Satan had to beg every single one of them — literally getting on his knees and shedding some fake tears — to not tell father. So, it was a dirty little secret that the nine of them had.

Which is why when Satan brought home the bacon (that he really didn't need) that day after biking in the snow, he certainly didn't expect this. He enjoyed the whole day because he got to spend time with you and the rest of the crew until almost midnight, only to be ruined by the sight of this. He expected that he would get home and immediately rest in his bed— but no. He arrived home, entered the lounge room, and was met by the sight of his father sitting on his reclining seat, staring straight at him. His mother was standing just behind the seat, looking as if she had just recently bawled her eyes out. The rest of his siblings had their heads hung low, and the tension in the atmosphere was so high that the smile on his face went away, immediately being replaced by a frown. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized that there wasn't a single butler or maid in sight, and that's when he knew that it was another one of their family matters.

"Where have you been?" Their father's deep voice boomed, and the youngest immediately let out a scoff with a roll of his eyes. Scratch that, it was another one of his annoying lectures that just compared him to his older sister mostly, or even the rest of his older brothers.

Satan Samael was quick to answer that, though. Of course, it was just a rhetorical question to see his father pissed, because he loved seeing the old man getting his panties in a twist. "Oh, so you care about me now?" He barked back, letting his school bag drop to the ground and crossing his arms. He was thankful he accidentally left the café's apron back there and that he came home with a complete school uniform.

The man visibly grit his teeth, and he stood up from his seat, alarming his mother. "Who is this whore that you have been seeing, and where the hell have you been working?" He spat, his words lacing with venom as he spoke. Satan could care less about what was going to happen, but he wasn't able to stand the degrading name his father called you. He uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white and his fists were shaking.

Satan marched up to him without hesitation and began yelling at his father. "Back then, I went home drunk and past midnight almost everyday. There was a large chance that I came back here high on weed, and you didn't even bat an eye towards me!" He roared with fury, doing his very best to hold back his actions. His pale skin was starting to become red with anger, and his eyes just held anger. "Now, I started coming home earlier and stopped doing my vices, but you're starting to give me shit for it? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Lift your heads up." The man who commanded. That command made all seven of his siblings look up in an instant with dark eyes, and the sight of their faces made Satan angrier by the second. All of them had slap marks on their faces, and Asmodeus had the most of it. Lilith had dried tear stains on her cheeks, and there were two visible scars that were on her left cheek, along with his father's handprint on her right cheek. Belphegor had a bruise on his face, along with the slap marks, but aside from that, no other damage was made. Levi's cheeks had bruises from what Satan assumed to be his father's fingers from gripping the face too hard. Satan glared at his father and held back a fist, but his father unfortunately had faster hands. The sound of Lucifer's voice protesting was heard for a moment, along with Mammon's call for him to stop, before a loud slap echoed through the room. At first, Satan felt like his cheek went numb, and it slowly transitioned into pain. Soon, the blonde felt tears slowly dripping down his cheeks. "That's what happened to your siblings for keeping a secret from me about this bitch you were seeing! All because of you."

Satan felt his bottom lip trembling as his shoulders began to shake. He didn't know why he was crying, but it always happened to him whenever he couldn't let out his anger properly. "Still— You can't do that to them just because of me! That's not discipline, it's abuse! You could have done all of that to me instead!" He raged, bringing a fist up to wipe away at his tears furiously. "They're not a bitch either! They never had any romantic relationship, and you don't have the right to call them that!"

"You are not going in that café anymore. You are deleting their number and you are never seeing them anymore. Don't make me do the same thing I did to you and your siblings to your little butler." Those were the last words Satan heard before his father marched up the stairs, and the blonde boy instantly bawled in front of his family.

"I'm sorry we couldn't keep it from him." An apology was heard from his Lucifer, which took him by surprise. Those words only made him bawl even more, though, and he immediately felt comforting arms wrap around his body like he was a fragile figure. His cries were muffled when Satan pressed his head against his mother's shoulder, and the teenage boy only hugged back as he broke down in front of his older siblings and his mother.

"It's a present from him." Azazel handed you the perfectly wrapped box of whatever is inside, a small smile gracing his features. You stayed silent as you gently took the present from him. "I'm sorry that he didn't get to spend Christmas with you. I was supposed to take the blame, being his butler and all—"

"No!" You exclaimed, catching him off guard a bit, and you added to your sudden outburst. "No… You shouldn't do that. Satan doesn't like it when people take the blame for him." You nervously laughed and fumbled with the present, feeling your throat form a lump at the realization that the blonde won't be working here anymore. "He talks about you quite often… He's thankful, you know, that you're always there, but he doesn't like it when you take the blame for him… He feels bad about it, so…" You trailed off. You found it hard conversing with someone who you know takes care of Satan or knows him very well, and you hated how a small trickle of hope of ever meeting him again was forming at the bottom of your gut.

Azazel nodded, chuckling soon after. "Ah, I see. Well, he does talk about you quite a lot, too." He smiled before checking the time on his wristwatch, and then looking up to take a look at you once more. "Well, do you have anything to give him, then? Or anything else to say?"

You nodded and went to the counter for a few moments, placing the present on top of the countertop and coming back to him to hand him a thick notebook, the covers being a plain black color. "Um… That's just a copy of recipes of all his favorite food and drinks in this café, and how to make it. It isn't really that much. I just kept writing it down whenever he mentions he had a new favorite. There are also some pictures of the two of us there, which were my favorites. I planned to give it to him today, but, you know…" You cleared your throat a bit and didn't bother finishing the last sentence, and when he took the thick notebook from you, you gave Satan's personal butler a bow. "Please take care of him for us!" Azazel was a bit taken aback by the way you gave him a bow that exceeded ninety degrees, and how there was a hint of desperation laced in your voice.

You heard Azazel give another one of his chuckles, before hearing his response. "Of course I will. What else is the purpose of my job, then?" He laughed and heard footsteps walking towards the door. The sound of the door opening was heard, and another statement was added. "Thank you for unconsciously changing Satan, by the way. We appreciate that." Just when you looked up to ask him about what he meant, the door closed and you saw him walking towards an expensive looking car. The digital clock by the door showed the numbers 03:00, reminding you of the time when Satan mentioned that it would be the start of their classroom cleanups around that time and he would look forward to making his way towards the café.

Taking a deep breath, you walked towards the countertop towards the unopened present. You shakily exhaled as you undid the red ribbon that was around the gift and hesitantly tore open the wrapping paper. Inside was a box that wasn't really taped together, allowing the easy access of just opening it. Inside the box revealed a hoodie that was neatly folded, a framed picture, a book, and a letter that was inside a green envelope. You gently placed the envelope on the counter, deciding to read it later after taking a look at the other contents of the present. The book was a hard covered book, and it was plain white with the words, 'Miracle in Cell No. 7' in a glossy gold font. The picture that was in an expensive looking frame was a candid picture of both of you smiling wide at each other, probably laughing at a dumb joke that one of you told or a story that you two were talking about. The hoodie was a plain, pastel green color and you immediately recognized it as the hoodie that you liked to borrow (read: steal) from him since it was so comfy. It still had his scent on it, which was what you could describe as a musky with a bit of floral and vanilla scent— and you could tell it was one that he wore a lot judging by how strong the scent was, like he was still there beside you. Setting the hoodie back in the box, you gently opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper that held his note.

I'm sorry for leaving. I didn't want to, but my father made me. Merry Christmas, by the way! I'm definitely going to miss the dishes there, and I figured you'd be worried sick so I just wanted to give a present. Those are my favorite items. Treasure them for me, okay?

That picture was taken by one of my older brothers' boyfriend, and I honestly was mad at first, but then I realized how cute it looked, so I kept it for a while in my room. It was my birthday when that was given to me, but I don't exactly know when it was taken. I have to say, Solomon is such a decent photographer, don't you think? No wonder Asmodeus is dating him.

That book is the best novel I've read, and I literally cried over that book for days. I first read that when I was around eight or nine, and when I finished reading it, I always kept asking myself why my father didn't love me like how the man in the story loved his daughter. I stuck with the option of me not being born as a girl for quite a while until I realized that I was a pretty shitty child.

That hoodie is actually my favorite. It had the perfect thickness so I could wear them in any season, and it was in my favorite color, too. I just thought of giving it to you since you kept borrowing it. You are shorter than me, so that might be too big for you since it was too large on me, but that's just the reason you like wearing it, huh?

Anyways, thank you so much for being my friend, MC! 'Till we meet again, alright?

As you read through the lines, you could feel your eyes welling up with tears by the second. Your fists clenched and your brows furrowed as you let out soft whimpers and sniffles, not even bothering to hold back your cries anymore. Holding the note close to your chest and crying out, you felt empty inside as you slowly started registering the fact that he was never coming back. The hoodie that was just by your side made him feel like he was there beside you, and it hurt you even more when you realized that you won't have that sweet musky scent near you in the future.

[justanotherfanfic]

Next to Me

summary: a mission goes unexpected so the team tries to live with the consequences but the reader is not able to move on

warnings: suicide attempt, anxiety, panic attacks, depression

pairings: peter parker x reader

word count: 2.6k+

a/n: i finished this at almost 2am and i am distraught after writing this... i’m sorry!

YOU THOUGHT THAT that joining the Avengers would be the best thing that could ever happen to you. Fighting side-by-side with your role models and best friend. You remember being on cloud nine when Tony Stark asked you to join the team. Being able to use your powers and abilities to change the world at your young age made you hopeful. It was everything you ever dreamed of and more. It really turned out to be sensational when you met Peter and began to get close. Eventually, you started catching feelings but you never told anyone. Of course, the team knew about it except for Peter himself. The team started to become your family and it helped you become one of the greatest young superhero SHIELD and The Avengers have seen.

The blissful cloud you were floating on suddenly disappeared. You were falling. It all happened so fast, your dreams and hopes came crashing down after that night. It wasn't supposed to end that way. Tears, screams, and agony. You were traumatized from that mission. You never wanted any of this to happen, you never expected it. Peter Parker, the love of your life. The one you hoped to spend the rest of your life with was gone. The team had not taken a loss before. You never experienced death before.

You remember your scream echoing in the warehouse after the gunshot rang in your ear. Blood. So much blood. Your knees hit the pavement as you pulled him into your arms. You cried into the sky as his limp body was pressed against your chest. The Hydra agent stared down at you. You were supposed to be next. Your tears burned through your eyes as your hands shook harshly. You didn't care about survival. You'd rather die than live a life without Peter. You stared at the man with a glare as his gun was pressed against your forehead. You closed your eyes waiting for death.

It never came.

Tony managed to kill the agent before the trigger was pulled. You were heartbroken. You needed that bullet piercing your skull. The same way it did to Peter. You stared down at Peter's face, looking at his peaceful state. You never got to tell him. You never told him how much he changed your life. How much you loved him as more than a friend. You will never be able to see his smile. You will never be able to hear his jokes, the ones that made your stomach hurt so much you thought you would pass out. You would never see how his eyes brightened up whenever Mr. Stark entered the room. You will never see him again. That night changed you forever.

It's been three months since the incident. Three months since his funeral. Three months since you saw a hysterical Aunt May. You haven't spoken since that night. You refused to. You owed it to Peter. He can't speak anymore, he's dead.

Everyone told you, "Let it go [Y/N]. Don't put the burden on yourself."

"There was nothing you can do."

"That's how life goes, you need to accept it."

"Hold on [Y/N], everything will fall into place eventually."

I'm holding on. Why is everything so heavy? I'm holding on to so much more than I can carry.

You locked yourself in your room in the tower every day since that night. You always contemplated your life, how you failed Peter. You let him die. It was all your fault. Your depression got worse as time went on. You couldn't accept the fact that he was gone. Tony came into your room every day. He hated seeing you this way. He lost Peter, he didn't want to lose you too. Seeing you change dramatically was an emotional struggle for everyone. They knew your depression was getting worse as time past. Unfortunately, they didn't expect you to do what you did that night. Everything changed when Tony walked into your room for his daily visit only to see you standing on the railing of your balcony.

He immediately screamed your name in fear and yanked you from the edge before you were able to make the commitment. His body shook on the balcony floor as he pulled you close into your chest. You and Peter were his kids, whether it was said or not. He was distraught. It was too much pain to handle for someone your age. He blamed himself, you were too young for this much pain.

The team was quick to your room after hearing Tony shout. Their hearts dropped once they understood what had happened. Seeing your emotionless expression as a sobbing Tony was holding you into his chest made their grief grow more.

After that night someone was always with you in your room. Whether it was Tony, Steve, Wanda, Clint, Natasha, Vision, Bucky, or Sam. Someone was always with you. The team took turns at every hour of the day or night. They were terrified of losing you. You never spoke to any of them. They expected it. They only wanted you safe.

It was the time when Steve would watch you when he never showed up. You didn't really think much of it. Thinking he was probably late because he was making you some soup again. It was when Tony's time was starting to get closer when you finally decided to sit up. You walked towards the glass doors of your balcony to see the night view of New York. It was hard to see with the wooden planks boarding up about 80% of the doors to prevent another incident. You were about to go back to bed when you heard faint gunshots down the hallway.

Your heart started racing as your anxiety started picking up. Visions of that night started clouding your mind. You covered your ears as you closed your eyes. Where is Steve? You thought. Whenever you had a panic attack someone was there for you, comforting you as you cried into their chest.

The gunshots started to get closer making you panic even more. You whimpered as you ran to the corner of your room. You fell to the floor as your body faced the door. You tucked your knees up and put more pressure onto your ears, hoping it would silence the noise. You shoved your face into your knees wanting it all to go away.

"Peter no!" You shouted as the gunshot went off. Your screech echoed around the area as you saw his body fall to the ground.

So much blood. I'm drowning in this thick, hot red liquid. I'm gagging on it. It's too much.

A hand shook your body making you cry out in fear. They lifted your face up so they can see you.

"Tony!" You cried as you threw yourself to him. It was the first word you said since the incident. His heart warmed up after hearing your voice. It's been so long.

"Sweetheart we have to leave," Tony spoke as he tried to lift you up. You looked at him confused yet scared. "Hydra is back, they came to get SHIELD files. The team is trying to fight them off right now."

You started feeling your heart pounding again. You closed your eyes and tried to relax just like how Tony taught you.

"[Y/N] we need you." Tony finished.

You looked at him as his hands were still holding your forearms, making sure you wouldn't fall over from your panic attack. Your breathing slowed down as your hands started to glow. You stared into his eyes as you nodded. He gave you a gentle smile and led you out the door and straight into the fight.

The plan was going well. The team all came together to make sure Hydra couldn't get a hold of important SHIELD files. You struggled to keep your mind straight as your mind kept flashing back to that night.

Blood. So much blood.

"[Y/N] I need you to focus," Tony's voice was in your ear comm. "I know this is hard, do it for Peter."

Your lips trembled as your emotions started to overwhelm you. Your mind went to Peter and all the memories you both shared. Movie nights at the tower, making cupcakes for the team, talking late into the night in each other's rooms about your futures and secrets, being each other's shoulders to cry on. It all came flooding your mind causing you to overcome your powers. You felt your eyes glow up as you looked over at the group of Hydra agents charging at you. You yelled in anger as you started taking them down. All the rage that you pushed down had escaped you. You used your powers to knock out the enemies and leave the others crying in fear.

It all changed though. You were the one closest to Wanda. She didn't notice this; she was too distracted. She happened to use her deadliest energy to dispose of the remaining enemies that came near her. The moment the energy left her body you widened your eyes, "Wanda no! I-" You screamed until the impact hit you. The impact was so strong it forced you to fling back and hit the wall behind you. The impact immediately knocked you out, leaving your body limp.

Tony widened his eyes and shouted for you as he blasted more agents away. Bucky was the first to you. He put his finger against your neck and tried finding a pulse.

"She's alive!" Bucky announced in the comms.

Wanda felt her eyes starting to water, "No no no! Someone call Bruce! She needs immediate medical attention."

The team managed to defeat Hydra and was quick to your side in the infirmary. Bruce concluded that you were in a coma but couldn't get out of it, "The energy that Wanda used is suppressing her in the coma, there's no way out,"

Wanda shook her head, "It's all my fault. I only use this side of my energy for my enemies."

Clint put a hand on her shoulder, "You didn't know she was there, it's fine."

"She'll wake up eventually," Steve nodded as he looked over at a distraught Tony. Tony was holding onto your hand as his face was on your arm. Steve knew Tony was blaming himself again.

"That's the thing," Wanda cried out. "She is dying. My powers are tricking her into killing herself, consciously."

Everyone immediately looked at Wanda.

"What?" Tony questioned.

"I-I don't know. I just know that a memory persuades them into death." Wanda closed her eyes as she sobbed. "We need to get her out. We need to get into her mind."

The team stared at one another, pondering what to do. They knew they must bring you back. They had to save you. Whatever it takes.

A bright white light suddenly overwhelmed your vision. You covered your eyes as you tried to slowly adjust yourself to the environment. You were perplexed to find out you weren't at the tower anymore. You were alone, only surrounded by a white hue.

"Hello?" Your voice echoed.

"[N/N]," Your body froze at the voice. It can't be. You turned around only confirm your denial. You felt tears in your eyes as you saw Peter smiling at you, "Peter Parker..."

He smirked at the comment, "Still loving my last name huh?"

You cried as you threw yourself onto him. You hugged him tightly as if it would piece everything back together again, "I love you, Peter Parker."

"I love you [Y/N] [L/N]," He whispered back with a bright smile.

"[Y/N]!" A voice shouted behind you.

You turn, your tears still welling up in your eyes and a slight smile on your face. You were faced with Tony and Wanda. Their eyes were desperate. Your smile dropped at the foreign energy.

"What are you guys doing here?" You questioned as you moved into Peter. Peter's arm wrapped your arm around your shoulders protectively.

"Mr. Stark," Peter spoke. "Please don't take [Y/N] away from me. Not again."

Tony felt a sting in his chest seeing his adoptive son there. It hurt him, even more, knowing this was all a hallucination in your mind. It felt real but it wasn't, Tony knew that but you didn't.

"[Y/N] let's go before they take you away from me," Peter whispered to you as he tried to lead you to a door with a bright light shining out from it. You grabbed his hand and started walking with him, your back facing Tony and Wanda.

"[Y/N] don't go with him!" Wanda shouted.

You felt tears fall down as you turned back at them, "Why not?"

"If you go with him you die," Tony cried out.

"You're taking me away from Peter..." You whispered. You hugged him as tight as you could. You looked back up at them, they stared at you with pain. They knew the pain you were going through, you never got over Peter's death so this was the toughest thing you've ever faced.

"Sweetheart," Tony spoke as he slowly started walking to the both of you. "This isn't real."

You became angry, "Yes it is! Peter is right here! Don't take me from him!"

Tony wiped his tears and cleared his throat, "I need you to focus. Remember what I taught you? Let's count to ten." Tony started counting as you listened.

You shook your head before he got to finish, "No. I need to go with Peter. We'll be together forever."

"[Y/N] you're going to die," Wanda pleaded.

You looked at Wanda then back at Tony. He looked miserable. His hand reached out to you in hopes you'd take it. You stared at it as Peter pulled you closer into his chest. You felt at home. You felt as if you were back on the cloud that you fell from all those months ago. You needed this.

You also knew that everyone needed you. You knew that if you left with Peter then the team would be devastated. You felt selfish. You then realized that Peter would not have wanted any of this pain to happen. He would have wanted everyone to be happy and live their best lives for him. You felt your lips tremble as you looked up at Peter. He was gone, this isn't the real Peter.

You looked back at Tony. Your mentor, no, your dad. You slowly reached over and grabbed his hand. You released yourself from Peter and went into Tony's embrace. He embraced you as you dug your face into his neck. You didn't look back at the fake Peter, you knew you would be heartbroken. You both continued to hold each other as Wanda used her powers to bring you all back into reality.

Your eyes shot open as you sat up quickly. You panted as you looked around the room. Tony and Wanda were unconsciously strapped into wires on a machine. Natasha gasped at you being awake and called everyone over. It wasn't long before Tony and Wanda woke up. Bruce and Clint were by their sides and lead them over to you and the team.

You looked at them all with a smile and tears in your eyes. The love they had for you and each other was overwhelming. It was the good kind. You were thankful for them. You knew that even though Peter wasn't with you all, he will always be a part of you. You all had a group hug and showed each other more about being a family and loving one another. You thanked Peter in your head, you thanked him for helping you gain a family who you love unconditionally.

[beesartandstuffs]

Shot in the Dark: Interim- Chapter 4

(oh, did I say the next few days? It’s today :3

Also, please not that while this chapter is written in second person, it is not a reader-insert.

Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT and REBLOG!!!)

SHOT IN THE DARK MASTERLIST (find more stories here!)

~~~

It would be easy to say that your life goal has been very simple: Reunite with your parents and live the rest of your lives in peace. That's all you wanted, at first. That's the only thing that made sense.

Well, besides the fact that your mother was dead. For some reason, that never really deterred you. 

You remember the look on your uncle's face when you first said you wanted to see her. In retrospect, you feel bad. The lines on his forehead had deepened and he was speechless for a moment as you waited expectantly.

"Your… you can't see your mother anymore, Liam," he had said to you, as gently as he could. His eyes were misty but resolute. "We buried her in November, remember? Did you want to visit her graveside?"

You had shaken your head. No, you wanted to talk to her in person. You had questions that only she could answer. Uncle Damien hadn't been able to say anything else and Aunt Emma had spoken up. "Maybe we can talk about this when you're older, dear."

You were a reasonable child. You waited until about five years later, a week after your tenth birthday, to bring it up again. (You had waited a week in order to avoid interrupting the festivities.)

"I want to talk to my mom and dad," you had said, in the most grown-up tone you could muster.

Emma and Damien had exchanged glances.

Damien left to make a phone call.

All three of you woke up with bloody noses that night. 

~

Col. William was in a good mood when you sat across from him at the big metal table in the big cold room. A guard in a uniform stood nearby, but the Colonel was handcuffed. You weren't afraid of him, anyway. 

“Hello, Dad,” you said in a friendly tone. You sat politely in the big chair, your feet dangling several inches from the ground, with your hands in your lap.

He didn't look up from his notebook for a while, but when he did, he looked surprised. "Well, good morning, my boy," he said kindly, even though it was early afternoon. "My name is William J. Barnum, but you may call me Colonel. I'd shake your hand, but…" He gestured with the handcuffs on his wrists. You smiled slightly, and he continued. "What brings a young lad like you to a place like this?"

So he'd forgotten already. Emma had warned you he would. "My name is Liam," you said patiently. "You forgot me, but I'm your son."

"Son?" He shook his head, laughing. "Oh, I can't have a son. Celine would never allow that to happen. Her husband is quite the unpredictable man, you know."

Celine. Your mother. You grasped onto that, leaning forward. "What was Celine like, Colonel?"

He paused and tilted his head. "Celine is… strong. Stubborn, but brilliant, vivacious, enrapturing…" A sigh escaped his lips and he smiled dreamily. "My first love. My only love, truly."

Quickly, before you thought to lose your nerve, you asked, "Was she a witch?"

"Heavens no!" You were thankful that the Colonel laughed, instead of being offended. "Goodness, where could you get an idea like that? Ah, wagging tongues, most likely. Most unfortunate." Shaking his head, he looked down at his journal and laughed to himself. "No, she was not a witch, my boy. She was fascinated with the supernatural, had been since she was but a slip of a girl. I never discouraged her, but… I'll admit I did worry." He shook his head again, his smile fading. "But she was always quite a bit smarter than I, so I didn't question her. I assumed she knew what she was getting into." 

Suddenly, he frowned, and looked up at you. The sharp gaze of his dark eyes was sad but incredibly intelligent. "... How could this be?" he asked softly. "She told me she gave you up."

It took you a moment to realize that he knew who you were. "She did. Uncle Abe found me and took me to Emma and Damien."

He nodded, not seeming surprised. "Honest Abe… so he did hear me," he murmured. "You're a fortunate boy. Damien's probably a better father than I could ever be."

You never even tried, you thought you might like to say. But you didn't, because your father was here and he recognized you and you could be a family now.

"They'll raise you to be a good man," he continued, and your heart dropped. "I'm not getting out of here any time soon, so I hope you visit me again. It'll be a nice change from only seeing Abe every few months."

"But—" This isn't how it's supposed to go. You found him, he knows you. He's supposed to take care of you. "Why can't I stay with you?"

He smiled, and this one was sadder than ever. "Prison isn't a good place to raise a growing boy, I'm afraid. Besides, I'm…" He looked down at his journal. "I forgot again, didn't I? I remembered the wrong things."

"I remember wrong things too!" you insisted, but he shook his head gently at you, not looking up.

"Not like this. Like this, I'd… I couldn't do right by you. Emma and Damien are good people, they aren't… like me."

"What's wrong with you?" you demanded, hurt and scared and naive.

He didn't answer then, so you asked again. But he didn't say anything even when the guard came to pull you out. You weren't sure why the guard had come until you felt moisture on your face and your throat was sore, and you realized you'd been crying, which had escalated into screaming, and you didn't know how to stop.

The guard passed you off to the warden, nursing a bloody nose, and you didn't remember hitting him but you were sorry, and you tried to apologize but the only noises you could make were sobs and cries like a wounded animal’s.

Uncle Abe was waiting for you in the front office. You couldn't stand the look on his face when he saw your state, so you turned your face away, allowing yourself to be handed off like a limp marionette and burying your face in his shoulder.

He didn't say anything to you as he buckled you into his cruiser, but he did squeeze your shoulder. You guessed that that was his attempt at comforting you, so you decided to appreciate it.

The warden came out to the car, then, and Abe shut the door to talk to him in relative private. After a subdued but tense conversation, the warden handed Abe a package, which he tucked into his jacket.

He didn't say anything at all until he asked if you wanted to get some ice cream, to which you nodded miserably.

He let you choose a park bench to enjoy your treats. You always got chocolate with liberal amounts of sprinkles, and he indulged in a simple scoop of strawberry.

The park bench was too tall for you, but you were a bit small for your age. You didn't mind getting to swing your legs, and it's hard to cry when you're eating ice cream, because the salt doesn't taste very good, so you were starting to feel better.

Abe passed his cone to one hand and reached over with the other to ruffle your wild black hair. "Didn't go how you expected, huh?"

Wordlessly, you shook your head. 

"That's okay, kid. Nothing can really prepare you for that." His hand fell back to his lap, and you contemplated his statement.

"What's wrong with… with William?" you asked finally, having decided not to call him by either "Colonel" or "Father", for he was neither your friend nor a paternal figure. He had forfeited that right.

Abe sighed, took off his hat and ran his hand over the fuzz on his head. "He's… well, I dunno for sure, kid. He's not all there, yknow? Forgets things. Remembers things wrong. Thinks things are true that aren't. Stuff like that."

"I do that too," you point out, because it's true. Just the night before you had woken up thinking you had a dog, and Damien had had to keep you from going out in the cold to find her because she had "gotten lost in the golf greens".

It still felt like you had a dog, but there was no dog there, so you'd decided to believe Damien.

Abe knew you weren't lying. He simply searched your face, nodding thoughtfully, and finished his ice cream with a pensive scowl. As you both crunched on your cones, he spoke up again. "Liam, there's something the Colonel wants you to have."

You immediately abandoned your determination to forget William ever existed. "A present? For me?"

A small grin crossed his face as he reached into his coat and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. You reached for it instinctively, then remembered yourself and placed your hands back in your lap, waiting for him to speak.

Taking note of your rarely-seen excitement, Abe passed the package to you. "I think there's a note inside, but it might be hard for you to re—"

Before he could even finish speaking, you'd already torn the string and paper off and were reading the handwritten note tucked inside the cover of a small, plain, blank notebook.

The note was written in elegant but firm script. Some of the words were crossed out and rewritten, and you noticed that most of them were when he referred to things in the present when really they were in the past— a mistake you'd been known to make as well.

My Dear Son William Jr.,

I hasten to write this while I still have my mind. It comes and goes these days, and I fear that you may be predisposed to the same problems. Hence, this little gift.

My boy, sometimes the world will not make sense to you. Sometimes, you may forget things, or remember something that didn't really happen. In times like that, it may be helpful to have something you can look back on, something that you know is correct and unchangeable. 

The written word is a powerful thing, my boy, and I pray that someday you realize just how true that statement is. 

This journal is a tool, my dear son, to help you keep your mind in order. Everything you experience, every thought you have, write it down in this little book. It may feel silly at first, but I promise you, the minute you remember something that no-one else does, you can look back in this book and find the truth.

I hope you find it useful.

All my love,

The Colonel

~~~

~~

~

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad​@markired​@blackaquokat​@pleaseletthisjimbetaken​@gravitykaz​@jojored22​@neverisadork​@withjust-a-bite​ @gmcfyuffins​ @satansladydoor​ (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

[inflagranteinnuendo]

can we please please get rafael in paris speaking french? (i know from your about page that one of you speaks french and i'm just taking advantage of this) thanks a million!!!!!!

bonjour, c’est christine

êtes-vous ready pour les honhonhons et croissants fourrés au rafael 😏 , mes très chers et chères motherfuckers? 

(image credit x)

A tranquille stroll in the Versailles garden, languid kisses on cobblestoned avenues, shared Romanée-Conti 2011 over tender agneau au jus de truffle…

It felt like a honeymoon.

When you had first landed at Charles de Gaulle, with your rusty B+ average AP French and your Cubano-Americano boyfriend in tow, you had felt an apprehension like no other when you had set foot in the lobby of your very French, very elegant hotel. 

But to your utter surprise, your very sharp boyfriend had tout de suite started rolling his Rs the French way, starting with “bonjour mademoiselle”, followed closely by a self-assured, rapid-fire “oui, la suite présidentielle, s’il vous plaît, merci.”

As you ascended the opulent marble stairs to your aforementioned suite présidentielle, you shook yourself out of your stunned daze in time to catch a smirking Rafael Barba with a shell-shocked, “Where and when the hell did you learn to speak French?”

“Freshman year, Harvard,” he had winked at you. 

In response, your head had started to chant voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? in true Moulin Rouge fashion, complete with the peek-a-boo frills and feathers behind which your apprehension furtively retreated.

The moment your suite’s door had slammed behind the bellhop, you had sidled up to your very hot, very sharp, very accomplished Cubano-American boyfriend, and, while scratching the hollow of his throat with a fingernail teasingly, had purred, “Well, mon cher procureur, I look forward to receiving your éducation.”

The first item on the curriculum at the Finishing School of Rafael Barba: touches.

Rafael’s touches came in gradation of intrusiveness upon your person. In Manhattan, where the prominent public persona of an attorney cut the masses in halves of political discontent and acclamation, touches were elusive. They were cloaked in the conspiratorial covertness of a quiet whisper, across the back of your hand as he unintentionally grazed it with the back of his, as the both of you ate up the pavement with business-casual strides in lieu of a romantic, candlelit dinner.

In Paris, where the anonymity of foreigners is only broken by the outstanding –a standard of dress and manner toward which nor Rafael, nor you strived– touches were free. They were as liberated as the French were from the iron fist of the church and monarchy in the age of the Enlightenment. 

The touches stroked across your bare clavicles, as Rafael curled an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his body, as if the weight of you against his chest were a necessary prerequisite to contemplating the fall of an angled chisel upon stone. Then, in the next breath, La Joconde: a timeless, transcendental witness to the urgent, forward press of Rafael’s hips into the small of your back.

The touches also brushed your bare shins under the dinner table, as Rafael instigated a juvenile game of footsie in rebellious contrast to the posh lavishness of your chosen restaurant of the night, pushing the boundaries of French sensibilities up and away, along with the hem of your skirt.

Vive la révolution française, as they say.

The second item on the curriculum at the Finishing School of Rafael Barba: kisses.

If touches were elusive in Manhattan, then kisses were hallucinatory, practically hypothetical, with how fleetingly scant and insubstantially flimsy they befell your person. They materialized in the null spaces prescribed by the office of law and framed by prosecutorial virtues. They were stolen, constrained behind the closed doors of an overpriced mortgaged property, after justice has been served and before the violation of constitutional rights threatened peace. 

In Paris, Rafael’s kisses were as unrestrained as the sprawl of lush vegetation at the Jardin du Luxembourg, and as French as the history-rich soil upon which you stood. Upon this land, Marie-Antoinette had lost her head to the anger of her people; upon it, you lost yours to the playful nibble Rafael gave the bottom of your pout. To her famished people, Marie-Antoinette had nonsensically cried “let them eat cake!” To your starvation for his lips upon yours, Rafael had indulged the both of you in endless kisses, each and every one a flambé of buttery sweetness that remained unparalleled, even by the intricate pastries favoured by the last of the French monarch. 

As the both of you perused the Parisian skyline atop the tour Eiffel in search for some promised beauty in the outlines of mismatched roofs breaking skies, Rafael boxed you in with steady arms and breathed a hot, wet breath against the shell of your ear in ominous forecast. Before long, he rained kisses along your hairline, carelessly letting them roll down the slope of your neck, letting them pool in the hollow of your throat, startling laughs and shivers and gasps out of you. 

The kisses Rafael shared with you in the privacy of your suite had the heaviness, the momentum, and the certainty of a continuance, granted to you by the rapid rise of unfulfilled longing for each other, untempered by the conventions that dictated civilized order beyond the doors of your suite, and unhindered by the layers of unspoken pronouncements that draped your bodies. These kisses were unabridged, unlike the case laws that oft tumbled pass Rafael’s lips. Those were kisses that knotted one’s soul to the tail end of another’s: finite and infinite, a sum of two within which contained a forever expanding universe.

And the third item on the curriculum at the Finishing School of Rafael Barba: seduction.

Throughout your life, men had unwittingly chased the idea of you, each idea as divergently reductionist as the next, hatched over the time it took for a glance, a word, a turn of head. Rafael Barba had been the same: he was merely a man, after all. But he had found purchase in the familiarity of your accoutrements, of your erudition and had not felt the need to strip you down with his hands to construe the shape of you. He was an attorney, the legacy of two centuries of his forefathers’ scholarship, and so he crafted you the way he crafted his arguments: complex, potent, with an edge of aphrodisia bordering on indelicacy if not for his irrefutable respect and your steadfast humour. 

And edge you, he did: first with words, then touches and kisses, then the unhurried slide of his cock –hurtling you further and further on, toward the threshold of a climax to which only he and he alone possess the key to twist, pull and push as he pleased. He was merely a man, but where any other man blindly chased the idea of your pleasure, Rafael stilled to listen, to see, to feel, taste, and smell. He did not chase– he founded your pleasure, and set out to build upon it centuries’ and civilizations’ worth of worship, the history of which he etched upon your hips with half-crescent indents of his nails, traced upon your neck with swirls of his tongue, and seared into you with each grind of his cock. Your body was a memoir of his acts of love and reverence. In return, you used his as a blank canvas, onto which you painted exclamations of tenderness and adoration à la Jackson Pollock: spontaneous, blatant, raucous, and primitive.

Paris invited the hours to loiter and the minutes to stretch out, not unlike a sated cat sunbathing atop a windowsill on a Sunday afternoon. Ever an opportunist, Rafael took these freely given moments in hand and weaved you into the linens previously tucked into the prim corners of your bed, turned down and spread out for your carnal pleasures. And you, tangled in the lust of his gaze, folded into scraps of soft lace and silk that spoke to offerings in expanses of yet unconquered flesh and to prophecies of delight– you beckoned him to you. With one crooked finger and a come hither in equal measures of open thighs and tilted neck, you beckoned; and who was he to resist such allure?

“Si belle, si envoûtante, mon amour,” Rafael murmured against the peak of your breast, watching you watch him bite down once again, watching you rut up to take more of him into you. “Veux-tu venir? Veux-tu que je vienne en toi?”

“Oui,” you gasped, turning your head to kiss the open palm that curved along your cheek lovingly, “s’il te plaît, Rafael, s’il te plaît!” You begged, breathless and mindless with the promise of his deliverance. 

There was no sight more exquisite than your lover’s capitulation to his basest instincts. Rafael made a living out of his cerebral intellect, employing his physicality solely to instigate and punctuate a verbal brawl. In his surrender to la petite mort, it was his body that he used to close the argument between his love for you and yours for him. 

“Oh, si, ça me plaît,” Rafael groaned, unable to take his eyes nor his hands off your body, as if by fear that you’d dissolve in the apex of your pleasure should he fail to bear witness to its unravelling. 

À l'œuvre, on connaît l'artisan.

And he would be damned to let you finish your éducation française without a déluge à la crème. 

Translations

Procureur –prosecutor

Vive la révolution française –long live the French revolution (a phrase commonly uttered)

Si belle, si envoûtante, mon amour –so beautiful, so bewitching, my love

Veux-tu venir? Veux-tu que je vienne en toi? –Do you want to come? Do you want me to come in you?

S’il te plaît –if it pleases you (direct translation; usually just means ‘please’)

La petite mort –the little death (i.e., orgasm)

Si, ça me plaît –yes, it pleases me (i.e., Raf is just being a cheeky lil shite as always)

À l'œuvre, on connaît l'artisan –a workman is known by his chips (i.e., you can recognize the artist by the quality of his work, which is me being a cheeky lil shite because of the next bullet point)

déluge à la crème –not a conventional saying but it’s exactly what you think it is. i mean you did beg him to come in you, so……..

Special thanks to @adacarisi, @mrsrafaelbarba, and @writefasttalkevenfaster for your patience as i word vomited all over the place. 

[enduranceron-blog]

Think I’ll Hit The Peace Trail - Chesterfield Gorge 25K - Race Report

It's been awhile since I've written a race report (Falmouth Road Race - 2018) and though this may not be a full blown report I thought today's race deserved a bit more than the 280 character review or short blurb of "Great Run!". In this day and age of posting only when things go great or only sharing things that seem positive I wanted to ensure I give a true representation of today's run. It still amazes me after all these years the lessons that pursuing this hobby of endurance sports can teach me. Having participated in this hobby for 25 years you'd think I'd have seen and felt it all by now.

I was invited to run this race from my good friend Todd who was serving as volunteer coordinator for this race. And having not run a in person race since 2019 (Lake Warmaug 50K) and a full 2020 (and so far 2021) of virtual events I was confident I could jump in handle the distance. I signed up with the goal of just running and enjoying another day on the trails. It was great to once again do the pre-race prep and pack and enjoy the drive to the event. Seeing Todd at the start and getting to spend time with him made the trip worth it in and of itself. Being surrounded by like-minded folks and soaking in the pre-race chatter and vibe had a welcoming feeling. Having been on many of start line there was no nerves or apprehension just a calm and joyful feeling within to be once again doing what I love. I thoroughly enjoyed the old school feel to the event and being in the last wave of runners the group I was in was small (20 runners or so) compared to other races I have done. After a fairly straightforward course description from the RD (Up the dirt road til you hit gravel and turn around) we were off.

Up til now the race was every bit as normal as any other trail race I'd done. As our group headed out you could sense the energy and enthusiasm and the group accelerated down the double track. Even myself, that came in with the stated goal of just cruising, got caught up in it and I could feel the pace being much quicker than I'd expected or wanted. As I slowed myself purposely and let folks get farther into the distance though I began to hear less and less footsteps behind me. So much so that I knew I was either last or 2nd to last in this group. You would think by now having done this enough I wouldn't let this bother me....well if I am being honest, it did. And this is where the first lesson of the day was to be taught to me. In my daily meditation practice one of the things I try to work on is not letting the Ego be in control. To let pressures of appearance or status or ranking determine an experience or the good things that can come from it. Now, this was no longer something to work on in theory but today's it was to be in the heat of the moment. During one of my favorite activities. I'd like to say I passed with flying colors but as I try to live my life more honestly, I will say it took another mile or so until I finally accepted in practice.

So, I let go and decided that no matter what place I finish in or what time I finish, being here today was enough. I decided to spin my perspective and be truly appreciative of where I was and what I was able to experience.

As this another mile or so was taking place it was also becoming apparent to me that this wa snot the only lesson to be learned today. Anyone that has attempted multiple events will tell you that somedays everything lines up and the universe comes together and you can have a perfect race. Sometimes though, it is grind. Sometimes, the mind doesn't want to do what the body is ready for. And other times, the body doesn't want to listen to the mind and do everything the mind knows it can. The latter would be that kind of race for me.

As I came into the first unmanned aid station it was clear to me by the tightness in my legs and my higher than usual breath rate that no matter how much my mind wanted to do this today, the body didn't want to. For whatever reason, I just could not get my body into a rhythm where it could move efficiently and smoothly. Instead it labored along. My heart rate higher than it usually is and my breath rate following along. My left quad and hamstring both decided to try and take the day off while both glutes were working overtime.

As I worked closer to the turnaround today lesson #2 stared me down and I had to decide what type of race I was going to make it. I could get angry with myself and grind along and make it a suffer fest. Or, I could live in the present moment and accept what was, make the best out of what is. So as I settled into a shuffle for a bit I chose door #2. I may not be speedy and I might be struggling but I could still move forward. As other runners starting coming toward me on their way back I thought maybe someone else could use a boost so I began to great each with enthusiasm and a smile. Offering words of encouragement to boost them even if only briefly. I also took my phone out and finally started to take some pictures. To "stop and smell the roses" more on my return trip. I adjusted my strategy and employed an old run by the clock trick I'd used in previous races where I'd run for 2 minutes, speed walk for 2 minutes for 20 minutes total before a 10 minute run session to finish the half hour.

Before long I was right where I originally wanted to be, cruising. My run portions felt great and my speed walk portions allowed me to hydrate, take pictures and lower my heart rate. Quicker than expected I'd hit the last unmanned aid station and knew I had just over 5K to go. As if I was rewarded for my change of thoughts, I also began to see other runners I was now catching on this return trip. As I ran towards the finish I contemplated my journey mentally throughout the day and what lessons I was going to take from this run. And although this run wasn't "magical" or perhaps very inspiring it will hold a special place for me. One of the things I love about endurance sports is that they can take you to the least expected places, physically and mentally. Even after all these years it still shows me things about life and myself. I've always believed that if you look hard enough, there is something to take away from each and every run you do. For me today, learning to let go and to accept the present moment were ones I won't soon forget.

Ps. I did meet my original time goal of finishing I under 3 hours (5 miles per hour), something I did not think possible 25% way through the race.

Ain't taken my last hit yet

I know that things are different now (I see the same old signs, but something new is growing)

Don't think I'll cash it in yet

Don't think I'll put down my last bet (I'm gonna keep my hand in, because something new is growing)

Think I'll hit the Peace Trail

Take a trip back home to my old town

'Cause everyone back there says

Something new is growing

https://www.strava.com/activities/5612293660