#but the measurements were wrong so he wrapped on himself so that we could still match in a way lol

[kaidabakugou]

there should be jewelry for cocks, i’m not talking about cock rings, i want dick bracelets, dick chains where if you have a piercing at the tip you can wrap the chain at the base and it dangles all pretty, you know 🥺

[softmangoes]

sweater weather | brahms heelshire x reader

18+ only

summary: you ask brahms to knit a sweater for you. he gets excited.

includes: edging, slight manipulation, possessive + jealous brahms

author's note: pls let me know what you think! i love this wall boy so much 💕

@buggwritesmain here you go! tagging you as requested ☺️

-

one night, as you tangle your fingers in his hair, you ask brahms if he would ever knit you a sweater.

"yes," he says after a moment, voice muffled by his mask. "you would like that?" his eyes are curious, a light jade in the glow of the morning sun.

"just for me," you tell him. in the space between the walls, you had seen the hanks of wool and the long wooden needles. throughout the room, there were scarves, socks, a few sweaters. before you, he must have had a lot of spare time spent carefully weaving rows of soft fabric to brave the cold winters.

"of course," he curls himself into your embrace, tangling his legs with yours. the old bed creaks at the shifting of weight. "i would never dream of making one for anyone else."

he's been talking more often, you've noticed. when your relationship had started to sprout to what it was now, he would rarely speak and usually it was to beckon you closer. he could never stand not being around you, after all.

you think it's endearing. in the time he yearned for you in the darkness, had he ever tried to practice what he would say to you? for a moment, you imagine him whispering in the quiet of the night as you slept, thinking of what he would do if he could have you.

the thought makes you hold him tighter.

he lets out a small, satisfied sound at the sensation of his hair being pulled. earlier today, you had entered the house to find him in a mood again. no matter how many times you had asked what was wrong, he refused to tell you. right now, it seemed like whatever had bothered him had subsided. at least for the moment.

"quite the romantic, aren't you?" a fond smile spreads across your face. hearing him flirt was something that was still new to you. "someone's been reading his new books."

through your fingertips, you felt rather than saw the blush that spread up his neck.

this close to him, you could hear the faint sound of him licking his lips.

"i've learned more than just that," he said, pride seeping into his voice. below the blanket, you feel his knee press in between your legs. "would you like me to demonstrate?"

the next day, brahms gently wraps the measuring tape around your bicep. you're both in his hovel - recently cleaned and organized thanks to your insistence and his grumbling. this part of the house hasn't been completely sealed from the elements, so there's a slight draft that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"you're cold," he says, the warmth of his fingers trailing lightly across your collarbone as he measures your shoulders. it's tempting to lean into his touch, but he instructed you to keep still.

"w-we should move inside," you breathe deeply, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. the manor was warm and you had packed the fireplace with fresh wood just an hour ago. surely it would be fine to take your measurements there, wouldn't it?

"no." there's a sweet note to his voice, almost self-satisfied. "i want us to be here."

and when he says that, without any hint of sympathy, you realize you've been tricked.

"you're enjoying this, aren't you?" from making strange noises during your first month at the manor to taking your things, brahms could be mischievous whenever the mood struck him. standing so close to him in the cold draft, you were certain this was one of those times.

it must be thrilling, you think, for him to see you all vulnerable like this.

you suppress the urge to shiver. instead, you bite the inside of your cheek as you ask, "what's really happening here?"

"it's simple," he says, tightening the tape around your abdomen. the length of ribbon is cool against your body. just a breath away, you could feel the warmth emanating from his skin.

you had never had something custom made, but you were sure that the process of creating an item didn't require him to be this close to you.

"whenever you feel cold," the tape loosens, falls, and is replaced by his hands, the heat in his palms chasing away the prickles on your skin. "i want you to think of me."

his eyes intensify and you realize you are stuck in the web he's woven for you.

"brahms?" you ask, although any sense in him is gone.

"the other day, the errand boy draped his jacket over you in the garden," he says, his palms drifting to cup the soft curves of your bra possessively. "i saw it," he hisses. "and you came back reeking of him."

"hey," you start, realizing why he had been sulking the other day. he only ever played mozart loud when he was upset and you had to pry him from the shadows between the walls by promising you'd spend the whole day curled up in bed with him. "that didn't - "

it didn't mean anything. but that wouldn't matter now. not to brahms.

"am i not good enough for you?" his voice quakes. there's a note of warning despite its softness. his thumbs make slow circles around your nipples, the pressure of it made agonizing by the cloth separating his touch from your skin. "is that it?"

"brahms," you say his name gently, looking up into his glistening green eyes. your voice is level. steady. it's what he needs when he gets like this. "if you're going to speak to me like that, i have to see your face."

he pauses. you had an agreement that you would only have serious conversations with him unmasked and he had never broken it once. after a moment, he slips off the ceramic shell and sets it aside. a single tear falls from his eye lash onto his cheek. he's so beautiful, this strange man, and he's all yours.

you reach to hold his face in your palm.

"silly boy," you tell him. "you're the only one who can touch me like this."

this time, thankfully, the rage subsides. his gaze softens. in the end, he was always so full of hunger and you know how to keep him fed.

"only me," he says under his breath. "me."

slowly, you guide his hands to unclasp your bra, breathing a sigh of relief as his hot tongue licks into the hollow of your neck.

"only you," you tell him, like it's a promise.

with ease, he hefts you into his arms and lays you onto his cot. the new mattress is soft under your back.

in a moment, he's all over you. his mouth finds the hard bud of your nipple and his hand cups your other breast. you squirm at the feeling of his tongue lapping at you, your hips bucking at the open air.

"mine," he says hungrily. his mouth away from your skin feels like agony. the slick wetness of your exposed skin is too cold.

you need more.

"if you want to be good to me," you tell him. "then you better warm me up."

obediently, brahms slips off your lounge pants and underwear off with ease, wasting no time to slide his tongue along your slit.

you whine at the contact, running your fingers through his soft curls as he laps at your wetness.

he pulls away, his mouth glistening from your pleasure.

"my love is cold," he says, slipping two fingers inside of you. the pressure ignites a lick of heat within your core and you bite the end of your moan. "only i can warm you." your hold tightens on his hair. "only i can give you what you need."

brahms licks at your clit, but he doesn't move his fingers. he wants you to want him, so you fuck yourself against his knuckles. you rut against his beautiful mouth.

he gasps softly against your skin as your thighs squeeze his face.

when you come, shaking and whimpering his name over and over, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers.

"look at you shivering." he laughs, satisfied that he could ruin you like this. brahms sheds his tank top, pushes his pants down. "i can help you," he says. "i can be so good for you."

god, he's stunning. there's a litheness to his body - graceful muscle sculpted from agile years spent quietly sneaking through the shadows.

you want to shut him up. to eat him. you want to pull him down to you and take his neck between your teeth. but when he enters you in one long slide, body pressed against yours, all you can do is gasp.

"that is what you said, right?" he murmurs into the hollow of your neck as he dips his hips deep into you. "only i can touch you like this."

"i have to teach you a lesson," you wrap your legs around him. "about that mouth of yours."

when he pulls away to look at your face, you crush your mouth to his, sinking your teeth into his lip.

"mmph," he trembles, whining softly at the taste of you. before he had made himself known to you, he had fantasized many times about bringing his lips to yours. although you kissed him often, the thrill had never left him.

as the pressure builds again within your core, he pauses before resuming his pace. you rake your nails across his back, eliciting a deep groan from him. the brat was edging you.

"i don't want to stop," he gasps. "you're so perfect and you're mine you're mine you're mine - " he punctuates each repetition with a thrust of his hips and all you can do is hold him.

"come undone with me," he begs, sweat slicking his chest. "i need it, there's nothing else -"

"brahms," you breathe and the sound of his name is all it takes to make him shudder.

when you come, he kisses you deeply, pumping his warmth into you as you shake beneath him.

"i love you," he says, twitching inside of you. "tell me you love me."

"i love you," you tell him, brushing his hair from his face as the post-orgasm glow warms the both of you. there's a moment he spends just staring at you, as if he can't believe you're there in his arms. "did you even keep track of my measurements?"

he laughs. it's a gentle sound - one you wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your days.

"i suppose we'll have to do this again," he says, his eyes bright and beautiful. he nuzzles into your neck, lips soft as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. "but for now, let me be the one to keep you warm."

[ken-dom]

Thank You

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

Summary: Lars has wondered about sex. And he's been growing comfortable with your touch. So it was only a matter of time...

Warnings/content: nsfw, fluffy smut, reader rides Lars, loss of virginity (Lars), crying, comfort

When you sunk down onto him, his whole world came to a shuddering stop, but not in the way either of you had anticipated.

It was warm. It was soft. It was kind of wet? It didn’t cause pain… it felt tingly and sort of like he wanted to explode but in equal measures, relief.

He had no words to truly describe it, and even if he had, his mind had been taken over in a haze of pleasure he’d never felt anything like before.

‘You doing ok?’ you smiled down at him, hips still as you waited for him to adjust to these new sensations.

He had the urge to move his hips, but he was too scared. Too worried he’d get it wrong and ruin everything, or that it wouldn’t feel good.

Usually when he had that overwhelmed fear bubbling up, he would run. But he was frozen in place. That is, aside from his fingertips grasping desperately at the sheets beneath him, in an attempt to stay grounded.

‘Lars?’

He looked up into your eyes and nodded in answer to your earlier question.

‘I’m going to move now, alright? If it’s too much we can stop.’

He nodded quickly, silently pleading with you.

Watching his face carefully, you rolled your hips slowly, just once.

You were glad you were in the privacy of Lars’s garage because the noise he made was deafening as his back arched, his eyes snapped shut and his jaw dropped.

His chest heaved as you stilled above him again. His vision had blurred and he'd almost seen stars, but it gradually dissipated back to just you above him, angelic.

‘Did it feel good? It didn't hurt?’

He shook his head, a firm no. ‘Good,’ he whimpered, ‘really good.’

‘Alright, I’ll go a little faster this time… and, Lars?’

‘Mmh?’

‘You feel incredible inside me.’

He sobbed then, a hand coming up to hide his eyes while his cheeks flushed hot at your praise.

You began to rock your hips in a steady rhythm, not too fast yet, but without pause.

Something was already simmering in his gut, building like a coiled spring tightening, but he trusted you to see him through it. He dropped his arm above his head so he could see you.

He looked beautiful like that, laid out for you in just his undershirt, finally relaxing.

You moaned once and within seconds he was writhing beneath you, crying out a string of his own desperate moans and grabbing a fistful of the pillow he was laid on.

He really did feel incredible; the way he stretched and filled you as you rode him had you trembling above him. Each sound he made sent heat rushing to your core. The pleasure contorting his face caused butterflies to soar in your stomach, which tightened each time his thick length massaged that sensitive spot within you.

‘Let go, Lars,’ you whispered, and as your own climax hit, his hands found yours and he emptied himself inside you with a strangled roar, his torso lifting off the bed with the unexpected force of his release.

You wrapped your arms around him and carefully laid him back down as he tried to catch his breath.

His face was wet with tears that just kept coming, and as you climbed off him, he curled into a ball beside you, facing away.

You slid an arm over his ribs to hold him and felt him trembling.

‘Are you alright? Did it hurt when you… you know-’

He shook his head into the pillow.

You kissed his hair and nudged at his shoulder, encouraging him to face you.

He turned, settling into your embrace with his face only inches from yours. Even though you'd just shared the most intimate act he could imagine, he appreciated that you didn't wipe the tears from his face. He didn't want to acknowledge them right now. He wanted you to feel impressed with him.

‘I… I liked it,’ he breathed, mildly horrified, as though he shouldn't enjoy such a thing. He felt kind of dirty, but he’d never felt more alive. Guilty, but more relaxed than he could remember ever feeling and... kind of sleepy?

Not so long ago, he’d asked Gus if it was sex that would make him feel like a man, and whilst he valued all the other things Gus had tried to explain to him, sex had certainly made him feel different.

‘I liked it too,' you smiled, and he beamed at you from under that handsome little moustache.

‘Thank you,’ he sighed dreamily, as he fell asleep in your arms, safe and warm and sated.

[k-s-morgan]

And the Living Will Envy the Dead: Snippet

This is a snippet from another scene taking place in the distant future from Tom's POV. And it's surprisingly fluffy))

---

Impatience wrapped around his throat like an unyielding noose. At first, Tom kept adjusting his collar, wondering if Rosalia misstepped this time and selected something of the wrong size. As far as the design, the colours, and the material were concerned, however, this outfit was a favourite, and wearing anything else was out of question when Harry was supposed to return at last.

Three months, and not even in Britain — in Germany. Unacceptably, intolerably far.

If it wasn’t for Harry’s ridiculous rule of no contact during recruitment, their separation wouldn’t have to be this lengthy. Tom had agreed to it as a display of courtesy, but after the endless bleakness of the last twelve weeks, things would have to change. Principles meant nothing when they caused more inconveniences than they brought benefits.     

The loosening of the collar did not bring the anticipated relief, so eventually, Tom was forced to concur that the problem had taken root in his head. And the name of this problem had five misleadingly insignificant letters in it.

Irritation began to sizzle, making it impossible for him to keep sitting. Tom stood up and checked the clock; then he conjured the time by himself, harbouring the irrational hope that his clock was broken. The smoky numbers remained unchanged, and he waved them away, his jaw tightening with annoyance.

Harry was supposed to be here ninety-three minutes ago. How long could it take someone to Apparate, even if they were abysmal at it?  

Waiting was all he could do. His mind understood it, and just as equally, it rejected it. Measuring his reflection with one final look, Tom left the room and walked downstairs, to the headquarters. Rosalia, Cadmus, and Augustus were inside, locked into a conversation he had no interest in, at least not at the moment.

“Is he back yet?” Tom asked, ignoring the way the three of them instantly stood up. It was an entirely redundant question — if Harry returned, he would have never set foot inside Tom’s headquarters. Another rule that made no sense, but then Harry frequently didn’t. Still, he had to ask. To indulge the restless part of him that was willing to shred his skin and escape it to seek Harry out on its own.

A layered silence answered his inquiry. Tom’s eyes narrowed, and Cadmus hastened to clear his throat.

“He isn’t, my lord,” he uttered. “Not that we know of.”

“Inform me if you see him.”

He turned to leave, but in that very moment, Rosalia’s magic made a desperate lunge for him. It was harmless, just a greedy uncontrolled attempt to hold onto him, but Tom’s already dark mood plummeted further down. Disgust buzzed under his skin, and his magic rose up in one crushing wave, disintegrating Rosalia’s energy into the tiniest particles, rendering them even more useless.

A pained gasp broke the silence. Everyone else froze. Slowly, Tom turned to face them again, his stare stopping at Rosalia.

“And what was that supposed to be?” he asked. “Are you a dog in heat? Has the word ‘self-control’ escaped your dictionary entirely this time?”

Rosalia flushed. With her red face and blond curls, she reminded Tom of Harry’s revolting cousin, and his fingers itched with the need to invoke some graver magic.

“I— apologise,” she stammered. Her wavering voice made her sound like an even more pitiful version of herself, and Tom inhaled slowly, willing himself to be patient. Alienating Harry after their separation was not a good idea — although this was Rosalia, so perhaps Harry wouldn’t mind. “I just wanted to urge you to consider changing the entrance wards. It’s not right that he can walk inside whenever he feels like it. I know about your… arrangement… but there is no need to grant him free access. He could ask for permission when he wants to visit and we would—”

“He has my permission,” Tom interrupted her. The darkness of his voice instantly shut her up. “For today. For the next week. For a decade from now. He will never have to ask for it because he has it indefinitely. Is that clear enough to you?”

Rosalia nodded, dropping her head — alas, too late. Frustration that had been gnawing on Tom was beginning to zero in on her, blinding him to anything but the sudden craving for her screams. The cloud of violence descended, and this time, he didn’t want to fight it.

He needed a distraction. This one was as good as any.

The first vibrations of magic trembled through his body, filling his blood with power, power, more power — the power that would need an outlet. That would remind Rosalia of where her place was and what matters she was allowed to discuss — and which ones she should never open her mouth to comment on.    

His wand slipped into his hand, the power purring at the sight of horror that twisted Rosalia’s and Cadmus’ faces. Only Augustus remained impassive, although he lowered his eyes as well, his shoulders drooping submissively.    

A hundred different words danced on the tip of his tongue. The energy poured into every cell of his, bursting with the need to be directed, and Tom was about to oblige when a subtle breeze shot through the wards.

It could be nothing. It could be an actual breeze slipping through one of the open windows, but he knew, he knew there was more to it.

Harry was back.

A shudder of want thundered through him. Excitement and anticipation pushed out every previous emotion from his mind, and it took an impossible effort to keep himself still instead of Apparating in the direction from which he sensed Harry’s presence.

“Augustus,” he barked, “remind Rosalia of the scope of her responsibilities. After your lesson, I expect that she will keep her mouth shut on the matters that don’t concern her.”

From the corner of his eye, he noticed reluctance sliding over Augustus’ face. This was surprising — Augustus had always been the most eager to punish the other followers, but right now, Tom didn’t have time to ponder on it. Without saying another word, he Apparated into his office, and his heart did its usual little stumbling when his eyes stopped at Harry.

Tom’s sudden appearance must have startled him because Harry jumped, dropping the metal statue of the snake he was holding. It landed on his foot, and he jumped again, this time looking even more alarmed.

How such a stunning duellist and a brilliant Quidditch player could be so clumsy was a mystery Tom hadn’t solved yet. Affection bloomed in his chest, a seed that instantly bore its fruits — a split of a second, and the fire of it consumed him entirely.       

“Hey,” Harry said, an awkward smile lighting up his face. “That’s one ugly snake. Where did you—”

Tom didn’t let him finish. He eliminated the grating distance between them in two large steps, grabbed Harry by his waist, and kissed him, swallowing the words that were about to be said, not allowing him a moment to draw in another breath. He kissed him, and his world exploded with the half-forgotten brightness again.  

[kenny-the-ken]

But You're Both So Young!

Helloooo my lovely people!!! So a lot of you wanted me to write a fic about the reader and Kenny finding out that they're expecting a baby!! So,,, if you didn't know already, I myself am a young mother, I turned 19 when my son was 13 days old, so I know a thing or two about being pregnant, especially as a teen!! Thus should go without saying guys but ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP IN THIS FIC!!! READER 18, KENNY 19!! This is written almost how it went for me!! So please bare that in mind and if you guys want any more added to this, like a series, then let me know!!! I have almost finished the Stan smut and another for Kyle!! Any requests I've received I'll be working through over the next few days!! Lots of love guys and I hope you enjoy!!

Your hand shook, staring down at the test in your hands, two lines, it was positive, and one hand cupped your lower belly, a small smile on your face as a few tears escaped.

"Kenny! Come here!! Quickly!" You shouted through your shared apartment, you had a funny feeling that you were pregnant, and as it so happens, you weren't just imagining things, you and Kenny were going to be parents, a perfect blend of half his genetics and half of yours, your baby would be the most perfect child, and your mind was beginning to slowly wonder, when Kenny came clambering into the bathroom, panting for breath, his hand still on the door handle.

"What's wrong?" He asked, and you turned the strip test to show him, his eyebrow quirking.

"What's two lines supposed to mean? I don't know how these things work!" He exclaimed, hands in the air as you let a small laugh escape you.

"It's positive, Ken! We're gonna be parents!" You exclaimed, hands wrapping around his neck as he picked you up, spinning you round in circles, a smile so big on his face that you were certain his cheeks must've hurt.

"Our own little baby! I'm gonna be a dad!" Kenny shouted happily, gently putting you back on your feet as he jumped about, cheering and whooping, and you stood laughing, a smile on both of your faces that you were sure no one could wipe from it.

"So what now?" Kenny asked, taking your hand and leading you into the living room, sitting down on the couch beside you.

"I have to let my doctor know, the date of my last period is their rough estimation on how far along I am, I reckon I'm about five weeks." You spoke and Kenny listened to your every word attentively, nodding occasionally.

"Then at twelve weeks, we have our first scan, they'll take bloods and make sure I'm all good and healthy and that the baby is too, and then at the twenty week scan they'll measure everything inside and outside the baby to make sure it's organs and bones are growing properly and they'll tell us the sex of the baby too!" You said excitedly clapping your hands together as Kenny pulled you to his chest, placing gentle kisses all over your face.

"I'm so lucky to have you, I mean, not only do you love me, but you're giving me the best gift a guy could ask for, a baby! Our baby! God, I love you!" Kenny gushed, your cheeks heating up, Kenny's words making you blush, your head resting on his chest, as Kenny's hands played with your h/c hair.

"I love you too, Ken. We're going to be the best parents we can possibly be." Your voice was gentle, your tone soft and Kenny nodded in agreement.

"I'm gonna do all the things my parents never did, and all they did do, I swear I never will." He promised, not just to you but to himself and your unborn baby too.

The weeks went on, each day following a similar pattern. You would both wake up, cuddle together for a while in bed, Kenny usually making things sexual, not that you were complaining. Then you would both make breakfast together, pancakes, French toast, a fry up, you name it, you guys made it together. This morning you had both made sausage rolls together, the entire thing riddled with innuendos from Kenny about how he'd like you to touch his sausage, and you both sat together at the table, waiting for them to cool down so you could both finally tuck in. So far, you hadn't had many symptoms of pregnancy, but things change very quickly, the smell of the food sat in front of you turned from smelling utterly delicious to completely putrid, and you started to feel sick, and that was the beginning of your 'morning sickness', although what you'd began to find out was that morning sickness wasn't always exclusive to the mornings, sometimes it was before bed, after dinner, late afternoon, during the night, and every time you were over the toilet bowl, Kenny held your hair, rubbing circles on your back and whispering words of encouragement in your ear, helping you to clean up afterwards.

Weeks seemed to pass by quickly, and you were starting to bloat slightly in your lower tummy, your jeans starting to become a little too snug to be comfortable anymore. But no matter what Kenny always showered you with compliments, about how beautiful you were, how you were completely glowing, and you knew deep down how excited he truly was.

And that became clear when finally the day of your twelve week ultrasound had arrived, and Kenny was ready before you were, already out the door and waiting for you in his car. He couldn't wait to see your baby for the first time, and his smile didn't falter once the entire way to the hospital.

You got checked in and were handed a green maternity file, and while you were excited, you couldn't help but have that feeling outweighed by your nerves. What if something was wrong? What if the baby wasn't growing like it was supposed to, or there was no heartbeat on the monitor, and fuck you felt sick again. Your mind was spinning, full of worry before Kenny spoke, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Babe, everything will be fine, okay? I promise." Kenny said, his hand resting on your thigh, delivering a soft squeeze to it as he smiled gently at you, as you simply nodded your head in response.

Your name was called after waiting for a while and you both rose from your seats, making your way down the corridor and into one of the room adjacent.

"If you wanna get up on the bed there, and roll your top up and move your trousers down to your hips." The lady spoke, and you did as you were told as Kenny sat on the seat next to you, squeezing your hand as he gave you his gappy smile, and you couldn't help but smile back at him, he really was your everything.

"Okay, I'm going to put some of this of this gel on your stomach, you did as we asked and drank plenty of water before you came here so you had a full bladder?" She asked and you nodded again in response, jumping when you felt the cool gel and the head of the ultrasound machine rub circles on your stomach, and then she paused her movements, you both hearing a small, quick thumping sound coming from the machine, as she turned the monitor so you both could see.

"So baby looks very comfy in there, here's baby's head." She said, pointing it out on the monitor, and you were both just staring in amazement.

"S-So everything's okay? Baby's growing fine yeah?" You glanced at Kenny and he looked like he was welling up, the back of his hands quickly whipping away the tears of joy that dared to fall down his face.

"I'll do a few measurements just to double check, but as far as I can see so far, everything looks perfect! I'll print you some pictures of your scan." The midwife said, a smile on her face, and you and Kenny still stared in amazement, it felt so real now, you really were growing a little mini version of both of you put together, it had little hands, feet, arms and legs, you could see it's little face and it's small, still developing features. It truly was incredible what a woman's body was capable of, and Kenny was in awe of both the baby, and you.

"I'm just speechless! It's our little baby in there!" Kenny cooed, the tears appearing again in his eyes, still smiling and holding your hand tightly.

When the appointment was over and they had taken your blood samples, you and Kenny sat in his car, looking through the pictures that the midwife had gave you.

"I'm so lucky. The most amazing boyfriend in the world universe and now the most perfect little baby with you. I love you so much, Kenny." You spoke, tears of joy in your own eyes as he hugged you tightly, before placing a gentle hand on your tummy.

"I swear, I'll give you two the entire Earth, moon and stars." Kenny spoke, his hand then moving to cup your cheek and deliver a soft, kiss to your lips, starting up the engine.

"And I swear I'll give you two everything that I possibly can. I want to be the best mother that I can be, and the best girlfriend I can be too, I really would be lost without you both." You spoke, finally allowing your nerves to calm down, tears of joy in your eyes, much like Kenny before you.

The road was gonna be a long one, nine months is a long time, and birth was gonna be no walk in the park, but you wanted nothing but this, however the waiting had only just begun, because you still had eight weeks left till your twenty week scan, and finding out the sex of your baby. It was all new, exciting and equally terrifying, but you knew Kenny was with you, holding you tightly in his arms every single step of the way, and that and your unborn baby really was all that mattered. And all that ever would matter.

[yandere-daze]

Congrats on 2k followers! Could you please do some general yandere neige headcanons?

Thank you!!!

I´ve actually done some general yandere neige headcanons before but I´ll see if more comes to mind ^^

Kind of went wild in all directions I guess but I hope you like it!!

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, stalking, delusion

More Yandere! Neige headcanons

Yandere Neige is a worshipper that desperately wants to please his darling. He´s a very hard worker that always tries his best and so there is no doubt that he would do anything he can make his darling like him

In his mind, you are the very definition of a perfect being so it is only right that he puts in the work to one day be on equal terms with you. Sure, one might say that he is in a much more influental position as a famous and well-loved celebrity but Neige himself doesn´t think that that could ever be enough to measure up to you

What good are millions of adoring fans if you don´t look at him the same way he looks at you? He's just so obsessively in love with you and it's pretty obvious to anyone that has eyes

He's always trailing after you like a lost puppy begging for affection and can you really refuse him when he's being so sweet to you? Always sweeping in to help you with something you were struggling with, it's like he has a sixth sense or something!

Neige is actually just stalking you and happened to be watching you through the doorway when he noticed that you were having difficulties with a task. What better way to show you that he's worthy of being with you? Look, he can be useful to you!

He wants to look at you all the time so Neige really feels like he has no other choice than to secretly follow you if you refused his offer to spend some time together

He's so enraptured with the idea of you being in a fairy-tale romance together that he can't handle staying away from you for so long

You say you need some space and free time but Neige can't live without you! So please don't be too mad if you happen to catch him one day, okay? It was all out of love for you!

Loves taking pictures of you when he's stalking you and then prints all of them out when he's in the comforts of his room. He's bought an album where he can safekeep all of your precious shared memories in these photos

Lots of couples have scrapbooks like this and so Neige hopes he can surprise you with what he has already put together when you two finally start dating

"Look y/n, this photo was back when we had our first date in that one café you love so much! You were sitting there at your table, looking so cute as you ate the sweets you ordered! I was sitting a bit far away so I couldn't get a very good angle but the smile on your face almost took my breath away!"

"Sadly you didn't turn to look in my direction even once but that must have been because you felt shy. You probably felt it would be too awkward to walk through the entire café to get to my table that was in the far back, but that's okay! I shot more than enough photos of our romantic coffee date so we will always remember this precious memory "

"There's still plenty more I can show you that you probably won't remember because you couldn't see me but you must have secretly known I was there by the unbreakable bond we share. You kept looking behind you, how cute!"

Neige genuinely doesn't see anything wrong with this and doesn't understand how anyone could see his behavior as creepy, he's way too deep in his delusions by now

This is just what a good boyfriend and future husband should do; making sure that all of your wonderful memories are kept safe for all eternity

Also even before you get together? Neige is already kind of convinced that the two of you are dating and that you're just trying to keep it a secret because you fear the backlash from your classmates for dating a student from RSA and from his fans and he understands, truly!

It's sad that things have to be this way but soon enough you can be true to yourself and finally wrap your arms around him and you can do even more couple-y activities. Maybe this time you can even do them without several meters of distance between the both of you!

I feel like Neige would low-key vague you on his social media? Liek suddenly the day you two meet at the VDC his followers see an influx of posts where he expresses his admiration for an unknown stranger and he just keeps talking about them all the time. How he wonders what they're doing right now and that he hopes he can see them again soon

There are days where he will literally spam his profile about how wonderful and kind you are and how he wishes to hold you and be with you and kiss you and marry you and-

Yeah his management steps in and puts a stop to all that pretty soon because wow okay that's kind of creepy and also don't post that kind of thing on your official social media profile where all of your fans can read it?? And don't post random photos where you can see the shape of an obscured person in the background with something like "they're so cute again <3"??? Like literally stop

Neige literally almost causes a huge scandal and he's just sad that he can't tell the entire world how amazing you are and how much he loves you any more

Guess he'll just have to tell you in person sometime soon

[farity]

Sorrow, part 15

"Your Highness."

Aemond looked up from his papers to see Ser Criston Cole standing at the doorway of his study. "Yes?"

"The queen is insisting on seeing Jacaerys Velaryon."

Much to Cole's surprise, Aemond nodded.

"My prince, I -"

"I believe it is time," Aemond said, standing, "for you to decide if your loyalty to my mother supersedes your loyalty to the crown and to me."

Cole simply stared for a few moments, and Aemond continued.

"I have valued your service and dedication to our family these long years. I have learned much from you. But I am well aware that your debt to my mother has long tinged your service with immeasurable devotion."

Cole bowed. "I am at your service, Prince Regent. As always."

"Whereas my mother has accepted your immeasurable devotion, I believe in measure and restraint, so while I sit the throne, I need to know where you stand."

"My duty is to the throne. To you."

"And if my sister goes to see Jacaerys Velaryon, will your next move be to go tell my mother?"

Cole opened his mouth but said nothing.

One corner of Aemond's mouth rose ever so slightly, and he nodded, almost to himself. "Let the queen see our guest, accompanied by her maid, and bring me a list of all the men that serve with you."

* * * * *

"If you do anything bad, you will be killed, Jace."

As soon as Elyse had learned that Helaena was going to see Jace - because Helaena herself couldn't stop herself from sharing the news - she decided to go along. If someone like Ser Criston Cole or Ser Otto Hightower, or even the dowager queen, decided to interfere, Helaena's maid could not stop them.

But Elyse could.

At least, she would do her best.

So she stood a few feet away, giving Helaena and Jace enough privacy, but still close enough where if things went wrong, she could act immediately.

Helaena had stood in front of the cell for all of three seconds before Jace rose from his corner and grabbed her hands, which were wrapped around two of the bars. "You should not be here," he'd said gently, but had not let go of her.

They'd whispered to each other for a bit, and she'd seen Helaena give Jace a shy smile.

"There has been enough killing," she told him now. "And you, I mean, and I, we could, maybe-"

"You are still married to Aegon."

Helaena blinked. "Aegon will never again claim his husband's rights. He's-"

Elyse cleared her throat. She had to think of all the possibilities here, and if Jace was still plotting against the crown, the knowledge that Aegon was no longer capable of ruling might be a way to rally his supporters against the Prince Regent.

"If we are to be together, if I am to accept this, I don't want it to be a secret, like some unsavory thing that must be kept hidden. I would marry you, Helaena, I would choose you as my wife and keep you safe and have the entire realm know it."

Elyse smiled to herself. Helaena had told her so much about Jace and how much she liked him. She had accepted her fate, her marriage to Aegon and all, as he had accepted his betrothal to Baela as a political need.

But he had always been kind to her. And to Helaena, who was understood by so few, the memory of Jace had never faded.

Jace pulled Helaena's hands through the cell bars and kissed them reverently before she smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

* * * * *

"I would speak to him again, see his countenance as we discuss my sister before I place her in any danger."

Aemond was tapping his fingers on the desk, and Elyse knew he was worried, that he loved Helaena so much and she had endured so much as Aegon's wife that he would not do anything to make her endure any more.

She watched him, wondering how anyone could think him unfeeling, uncaring, cold. When he glanced at her, she smiled. "Helaena will appreciate that."

"You seem very interested in her happiness."

"Of course I am, she is lovely, and she is my sister. I would see her find some joy in her private life."

Aemond rose slowly, circling around the desk until he could take Elyse's face in his hands and kiss her. "And do you, wife, have joy in your private life?"

She smiled against his lips. "You must know that I do, my lord husband."

"Lady wife," he whispered, "you have brought me a lot of joy as well. I thank the Seven every day for you."

* * * * *

"Aemond, this is not happening. Let me through!"

A minute later, Aemond opened the door, wearing only sleep pants, and nodded to the guard to let his mother in. Alicent walked in, and lowered her eyes the moment she realized Elyse was sitting up in the bed, holding the sheets up to her breasts.

"I am sorry, Your Highness, I did not wish to put hands on Her Grace to prevent her from screaming."

"Of course," Aemond responded, "back to your post." He closed the door as the guard left and then, ignoring his mother, went back to the bed and whispered something to Elyse. She nodded and he reached into the wardrobe in the corner to retrieve her robe.

Alicent turned, sighing, as Aemond finished helping Elyse, who scurried to the bathing chamber the moment she was covered.

"So tell me, mother, what is so important that you must break your confinement to your rooms and come to scream at my door."

Alicent's eyes held a sliver of defiance at the words, and she raised her chin, taking a moment to compose herself. "You cannot marry your sister to that bastard."

"I am aware this is the second time you have said 'no' to this alliance, and you should consider how much might have been avoided if you had only said 'yes' instead, all those years ago."

"She is married to Aegon!"

Elyse reappeared, her hair now pulled back into a loose braid, her robe firmly tied around her.

"Given his state, the marriage could be annulled. It has been done before, even with children born of the union."

Alicent's mouth dropped open and Aemond smirked.

"I would not sentence Helaena to a lifetime of loneliness just so we can pretend she and Aegon have a true marriage."

"The crown must-"

"The crown will survive it. Because the alliance will bring peace to the realm and once we all stop killing one another there shall be prosperity again."

Alicent shook her head. "He will want to reign. As Helaena's husband, as the queen's husband, he will-"

"Your Grace, Aemond has thought of everything. That would not happen."

"What do you know, girl?" Alicent muttered. "Or shall you call yourself the Princess Regent and wear a crown as well?"

"Guards," Aemond said quietly.

* * * * *

"A shadow lifts and the sun brings warmth again."

Elyse said nothing. She did not understand many things that Helaena said, but she looked at her and smiled nonetheless.

The ship taking Alicent, Ser Criston Cole, and Ser Otto Hightower to Essos grew smaller and smaller, and while guilt threatened to tear Aemond apart, Elyse knew that he was convinced it was the only way.

It would never stop. They would keep trying to undermine Aemond's decisions, to interfere with his attempts to stop this war that threatened to take everyone down.

"Daeron should be here in a few days," he said, still looking at the ship. "You will like him, he is kind."

Elyse squeezed her husband's hand. "You are kind."

He looked at her, looking confused.

"You are." She smiled. "You hide it well, but you are."

When Aemond smiled back, Elyse felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Helaena walked around Elyse and reached up to kiss her brother's cheek. "You are my favorite." She looked from him to Elyse and back. "Do not tell Daeron."

* * * * *

[sofia-not-sophie]

In honor of Jason's death day I am posting a bit of a wip that will eventually turn into a Red Hood Bruce AU. (Yes there is only half an hour left today shhhh). Let me know if anyone would be interested in reading more of this kind of thing!! (Character Death tw for the whole of the text coming up, also minor panic attack of a non pov character)

Presenting:

Crossing That Line

Dick frantically punched his security code and the code for the watchtower into the zeta. Batman had sent multiple distress signals using his justice league and batcave beacon in the last ten seconds. Then all of his biometrics trackers went offline and new distress beacons stopped coming in. Bruce had been dealing with a justice league level threat for the past few days, so Dick had been taking the opportunity of a Bruce-less manor to spend time with Jason. He wasn’t looking forward to staying to babysit an injured Bruce, but at the same time Bruce was his sort of not really dad, right?

Dick wasn’t sure how long he had frozen once he saw the biometrics readings stop, but his training kicked in eventually and he was now on his way to see what he could do to help. Even if that was just standing by while someone else handled Bruce’s injuries.

He reached the watchtower and ran to the medical wing. The Justice League were all inside. Superman was sitting in a chair with yellow sunlamps trained on him, a bloody set of tears marring his suit, clearly his own blood, as Dick could see the injuries on his skin slowly healing themselves under the sunlight. He looked quite literally green around the gills, kryptonite then.

The others were around in various states of injured, but none of them were as severe as Superman’s injuries. Flash was helping Green lantern wrap a wound that probably had already been stitched up, but everyone else looked fine.

Then Dick noticed that Diana was standing at the end of a bed that had a sheet over it. There was clearly a body underneath. And Batman was the only person unaccounted for.

“Dick.” Clark said, his voice breaking.

Dick couldn’t say anything, he wordlessly moved over to the bed and pulled back the sheet. The cowl was still over Bruce’s face but it was severely damaged. Burns and scrapes and soot covered what parts of his face were visible. Dick put his ear by where Bruce’s heart should be and listened for a heartbeat.

Nothing.

Dick checked Bruce’s pulse.

Nothing.

“What happened?” Dick asked, becasue if he didn’t he might just get lost in his own thoughts and memories.

“Lex and the Joker.” Clark said, “They were making some sort of space laser together. I’m not sure to what end. I went to confront them while the others handled the guards. B, he went to dismantle the weapon. But there was a failsafe bomb. We couldn’t— We weren’t able to get to him. Not until after.”

A beep sounded someone arriving at the zeta station. A few seconds later Jason burst in in his full Robin outfit. Wait, Dick was still in his sweatpants. Not even a mask. What would Bruce say?

Dick wished he could hear Bruce tell him off for being in civilian clothes in the watchtower.

“I saw the distress record and your zeta logs.” Jason said, “What happened?”

“Jason.” Dick started and stopped, trying to put himself in between Bruce’s body and Jason.

“Can I at least see B? He’s my dad too you know.”

“Jason something really bad happened.” Dick felt the words spill out.

“What’s wrong? Where’s B?”

“He’s gone, Little Wing.” Dick bent down slightly to meet Jason’s eyes, or rather the white lenses of his mask, at level.

“No! He can’t be. He’s Batman.” Jason then seemed to notice Bruce’s still uncovered face on the bed. Jason ran the same tests that Dick had, adding in checking for breath fog on the edge of a batarang for good measure.

Jason finally pulled the sheet back over Bruce’s head and turned from the bed, he looked about three shades paler than normal. His breathing was racing and Dick noticed Clark looking at Jason with concern.

Shit. What did Bruce normally do to help with the panic attacks?

Dick silently tugged Jason to sit on the floor with his back against a wall. “Breathe, Jay. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Where am I going to go?” Jason whispered, still in a panic. It seemed to be more to himself than to Dick but Dick answered anyway.

“Breathe. You’re not going anywhere. You stay at the manor, I’ll move back in. You’re not going to get kicked out. Can you take a deep breath with me?”

Dick guided Jason’s hand to the front seam of the Robin costume so he could feel his own diaphragm move. Dick counted as he breathed in and out and slowly Jason’s breaths started to match his own.

“He’s gone.” Jason whispered.

Dick didn’t know what to say.

“How do we tell Alfred?”

Dick hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“I can tell him.” Clark said, “You kids shouldn’t have to worry about that.”

Dick nodded. Where was his voice? Part of him wanted to say that he should deliver it, he’s family, or maybe that he wasn’t a kid anymore.

“What do we do then?” Jason asked.

“Let’s go home and get you into some pajamas.” Clark said.

“I don’t want to leave him.” Dick said, looking at the sheet covering Bruce. “Alfred should have codes for the zeta to use in case of this specific issue. Have him bring the contingency files for a code dark night.”

Clark nodded and stood up. He still looked uneasy on his feet, but he got Jason to the zeta point. The rest of the League took the hint and made themselves scarce, leaving Dick alone with Bruce.

The sense of deja vu was sickening. It brought him back to the first minutes after his parents’ fall. Dick was the first one to get to them and for what felt like hours it was just him and his parents’ bodies in the middle of the ring. It hadn’t actually been that long until there were police and someone else in the circus, Dick couldn’t even remember who, was pulling him away and trying to comfort him. And then there was Bruce. Who Dick had talked to briefly that day, back then he had just been a random stranger offering condolences. Now…

Dick looked back at the sheet.

Bruce was dead.

What the hell was Dick supposed to do now?

[l0serloki]

Cooking with Valorant Agents!

(Chamber, Sova, Fade, Viper)

CW : OCD? (Chamber), Eating, not much else

A/N : I am so hungry but I really just don’t want to get up. This was an idea I had a few days ago but just now wrote up. Per usual, if there’s mistakes… no there isn’t. ALSO, I wrote this one on my phone so the text might be different.

Chamber :

I feel like he would be one of two things. Either a really good chef, or not know how to cook.

Look, he loves expensive food that fits his palate but with that money…

You think he’s cooking that lobster himself? Maybe. It depends on his mood! If he wants to cook and be alone, he can. If he really wants an amazing meal - he gets someone to do it.

He knows how to cook basic meals but that won’t do for my sacred mans tongue.

If you ask him to cook, he will join you. But expect a lot of complaining. He wants to keep everything super clean!

“Vincent, I love you but this is so unrealistic.” You could only sigh as your boyfriend frantically sweeped.

You two had been baking for not more than ten minutes when his little ‘cleaning mode’ had started. There was a bit of flour dusting around the table, and some egg shells laying out to be tossed. It wasn’t much and not really a priority of yours while you were cooking but to Vincent… It was the end of the world.

“Oh my. The counter will probably be stained! How did I not notice this sooner?” The mans shrill voice echoed throughout the room. You could only stand and chuckle, watching the scene unfold.

“Like I said. It’s not the end of the world. This is about us, not some egg shells.” You reassured him, lips smothering his face in kisses. His body eased under your touch, breath slowing.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let us finish up and then we can relax.” Chamber’s arms wrapped around you, lips kissing at your temple. You hummed under the affection, glad that he was over his fit.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Sova :

He cooks a lot! I feel like his Grandma taught him dishes and he loves sharing them.

Sova will be the one to ask you to cook! He wants to see your favorite foods & spend time with you!

This man LOVES desert. (It’s supposed to be a secret though! Hide some chocolates for him <3)

Overall, he loves to be in the kitchen and will gladly serve you OR cook with you!

“Oh, Y/N! This was so fun!” Sova smiled, arms setting down the hot pan. The two of you had spent the evening cooking per his request. You had not expected it to be as exciting as it was. Sova had taught you a lot and still made you feel smart.

“Mm, this was fun. We will have to do my idea next time.” You kissed at the mans cheek, sneaking a bite of the food.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, snickering at your embarrassment.

“Yes, we should. But what did I just say? The food is hot! Now shoo! I’ll bring it to you, minx.” Sasha teased, pushing you away from eating more. You grinned, making your way into the living room.

“You better! If you eat it all yourself, you’ll have to make more!”

Fade :

I feel like she’s iffy on cooking. Don’t get me wrong, she cooks all her meals. She just doesn’t get super excited about it or anything.

But, if it’s something you love or enjoy then she will pitch in!

She’ll be your little helper! She sets up all the ingredients and makes sure to measure things ahead of time.

Fade also has a big appetite and will be glad to have a nice meal!

“You are really good at this.” Fade’s voice whispered as her arms wrapped around your torso. The two of you had been making some snacks for the base. It was an idea you had to spend time with your girlfriend and still get stuff done.

“You’re too kind. Can you grab me some sugar, love?” You asked and the woman had already departed. It was cute how rigorous she was. All the ingredients were at your disposal within seconds, her hands working to help you in any way possible.

“Here.” Fade sat down the sugar, lips caressing the nape of your neck. You rubbed your fingers over her hand, murmuring a quiet thanks.

Maybe you should ask Fade for help more often!

Viper :

WOW.

She shocks you at how good she cooks! Occasionally she will make dinner and it’s always amazing.

“I just followed the instructions. I’m good with measuring. It’s what I do with my poisons.”

“That’s so reassuring, babe. Thanks.”

If cooking is what you want to do, she’s got the apron strapped on.

She’s the type of girlfriend to lick stuff off your face or finger just to fluster you. Better watch out!

Not even two days ago you had mentioned how you were missing a good meal. Well, your girlfriend never ceased to surprise! As you got home from work, Sabine had dressed the table for dinner. The meal looked and smelled delicious. You slumped, delighted at such a treat.

“Baby, this looks amazing. Thank you.” You grinned, giving the woman a kiss as she settled next to you.

“You’re welcome. Eat up.”

You did as told, digging into the food. It was more than good. The best way to describe it would be comparing it to an expensive restaurant. Who knew Viper could cook this well?

“Sabine, this is mind-blowing. Since when did you cook so well?” You raised an eyebrow. Viper only snorted, waving her hand in nonchalance.

“I am not that good. I simply followed the recipe. You know, getting ingredients is a lot like my poisons. Maybe that’s why it ended up so well.”

You choked at the comment, not expecting such an answer.

“Wow babe, that’s so reassuring.”

[alargehunkofdebris]

Crowley, and Going Nowhere Fast

So Crowley’s thing, the thing he’s taken to heart this season, his arc, is his fear of going “too fast.” Aka, he is actively going against his normal state of being.

We know this, because he’s living in his car.

He’s living in his car, after years of having no apartment (I think. I can’t remember if it was only recently his apartment was taken away, but either way, it’s a period of time.)

I mean, from a writer’s perspective, we know why this is the case. Their arc, as a couple, is that eventually they’ll have a cottage together in South Downs. It wouldn’t hit nearly as hard, once we finally get there, if the pair of them had already been living together for four years. So there’s that.

But from a narrative perspective, it also works. Because at the beginning of the season, we see a Crowley who had spent the last four years very, very carefully building a house of cards, knowing that a single wrong breath could knock it over.

These last four years, despite living in his car, despite having no real “purpose” (his words), were (I’d argue) the best years he’d ever lived, because he’s never, in his life, been able to see Aziraphale so frequently. He’d never been able to visit him whenever he wanted, without both their work holding them back and taking up their time. He said it himself – it’s his precious, peaceful, fragile existence that he’s holding together with sticks and glue. And he’s managing that, from his perspective, because he’s forcing himself to go slow.

I don’t think Aziraphale would be put out or feel pushed if Crowley asked to move in. I think he’d be delighted. But he knows Crowley is highly independent and forward, and assumed he’d simply ask if he wanted to move in. For Aziraphale, this is a given, and he’d never think Crowley would hold back unless he wanted to – Aziraphale himself is no stranger to asking Crowley for what he wants, and grandly announcing that mi casa es su casa (“Our car 😊”) without a single thought to whether he’s pushing any boundary, because he’s never had to worry about that with Crowley. And conversely, unfortunately, Crowley has never forgotten when Aziraphale said he was going too fast after simply offering him a ride. There is no way, therefore, that Crowley would ask to move in. In fact, even if Aziraphale offered, I’m thinking Crowley would refuse. Because the very last thing on Earth he wants is to wear out his welcome with Aziraphale. He never again wants to go “too fast,” because things are fragile enough. He’s got enough, now. He’s got more than enough. He’s got more than he ever thought was possible.

And who knows, he might even be able to get more…as long as he goes slow enough. He’s treating this existence with Aziraphale like he’s growing a bonsai tree; he’s prepared to take years, decades, building up that proximity. And so he’s going against every instinct he has – he’s always been a fast person. And if we look at him as a snake, he might also be the type to want to constrict, to wrap around someone and never let go.

So he stays in his car, with his plants, like a weirdo. This sedentary car that’s literally growing plants is one glaring metaphor for something naturally fast that is forced to be still. And, yes, it’s also representative of his desire to get away at a moment’s notice, whether it be from danger or from rejection.

And then, at the end, he’s taking that risk. He’s prepared to take a step with the confession, because he feels he’s waited long enough. And he tries, but is immediately thrown off with Aziraphale’s revelation about the job in Heaven.

And this is where he realizes that going slow is not working.

Or, it would have normally worked…but with this new development it’s, by design, not working fast enough.

And so, as a final Hail Mary, he throws out every single one of his safety measures he’s held this season. And by that I mean his main rule – don’t go too fast. In kissing Aziraphale, he does what he assumed would be decades of working up to in three seconds flat. Because at this point, he’s literally got nothing to lose. Nothing has worked, and in fact, he’s pretty sure this won’t work either. But he’s got to try, just as Aziraphale’s got to try fixing Heaven.

And then, shocker, it still doesn’t end up working.

And what’s worse now, is that Crowley is absolutely, deeply in regret, because his gamble didn’t pay off. His “slow” method didn’t end up working—or, at least, it’s possible he waited a little too long. If he’d moved just a hair quicker, he might’ve been able to stop this from happening. But he didn’t. His house of cards has toppled, and whether it be from a card placed too quick or the foundation below crumbling from age, it didn’t matter. It might have been doomed from the start. Perhaps he never could go too fast or too slow, because maybe Aziraphale had never been waiting for him to begin with.  

[beyonddmythoughtssworld]

So idk if you write for Pope (but he’s very underrated and my fav, if you don’t then could you do this for rafe?)

A Pope fic where you and Pope haven’t had sex for a while for some reason (like maybe one of you were sick or on vacation or just busy) and when you guys finally have alone time together and you guys are making out and he goes to undress you, you remember that you haven’t shaved/waxed recently and you’re like “wait no stop” and of course he gets worried he did something wrong and you were uncomfortable with something and you’re like “no nothing like that I just haven’t had time to shave” and he’s just like “🤨 okay?” And you’re like “so we should probably stop, I can still help you out though” and he’s just like “why does that matter” cause he’s just dumbfounded that you would think that is important to him

i'm grown | pope heyward x reader

Summary: Pope is highly offended that you think he would care about something so trivial.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, fingering, missionary, eating out, insecure!reader, light spanking, doggystyle

A/N: Pope is most definitely underrated so this was fun to write cause I do have a special place in my heart for that man💕

You moan into Pope’s mouth as you walk him back into the bed. He grabs your waist to pull you down with him as he falls clumsily, causing the two of you to laugh. You move to straddle his hips, leaning over him with a smile.

Pope grins back as he brings his fingers to push your hair out of your face, meeting you halfway to push his lips against yours in a less rushed manner. You had to remind yourselves that you had time; something you haven’t had a lot of lately. In fact, it’s been almost a month since you’ve had any quality time.

If Pope wasn’t working, you were; and with the free time you two did have it was spent around the Pogues where there isn’t really much privacy or lack of interruptions. The two of you were going insane.

Not even due to just a lack of sex, but the quality time you were missing out on. Being able to talk for hours about the most random, bizarre topics. Binge watching movie series over and over to catch the things you missed. You’d been dating for over a year, so it’s not far off to say you guys like being around each other.

The sex was just a really, really good bonus.

When you snuck over to see him after a late shift, falling asleep almost instantly, Pope woke up this morning with one saying on his mind. Desperate times call for desperate measures. So, he called in sick for you, told the Pogues not to call unless it was an absolute emergency, and sent his parents off to an early brunch with only minor setbacks. No one would be within a ten mile radius, which was perfect for him.

The two of you continue to make out slowly, pulling away so he can sit up to take his shirt off. Pope talks as he does so, something he does often that you find cute. It’s always a small conversation, even between rounds of sex he just wants to ask you how your day was.

“Did you sleep well?”

You giggle as he lays back down, hands grasping the sides of your neck lightly to bring you down with him into a soft kiss. Running your hands down his chest to his stomach, Pope shivering against your fingertips, you begin to lightly grind onto him.

“Yeah,” You hum against his lips. “You kept taking the blanket though.”

“I’ll get two for tonight.”

He grabs your ass in his hands, guiding your movements against him as he starts to harden in his boxers. You palm his bulge, causing Pope to groan as his hips raise. He asks you between small pecks, “‘Move to the top of the bed?”

You nod, moving to the top of the bed and laying down. Pope follows, hovering over you with his hands on either side of your head. Your hands come out to touch his waist as he presses himself against you, wrapping your legs loosely around his.

Pope’s phone rings, making him groan as he sits up straight, reaching over to the nightstand to grab it. answering it with a huff. Your legs are still loosely wrapped around him when he sits back up straight above you, bringing one hand to rub at your thigh.

Your jaw clenches in annoyance, halfway ready to throw his phone across the room if he didn’t hang up in thirty seconds.

“JJ I’m busy-” Pope says between clenched teeth, the blonde interrupting him. Pope furrows his eyebrows as he scoffs. “Wh- No I haven’t seen your weed.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut in annoyance. “Why would I hide it? That makes..”

“Pope,” You glare at him, Pope’s hand movements stopping as he looks down at you. “Hang up the phone.”

Pope’s eyes widen as they meet yours, cursing when he sees the look of lust blown out on your face. He fumbles to hang up, tossing it on the floor as he forgets all about it. You take your shirt off, flinging it across the room just in time for him to catch your lips in a heated kiss. You moan against his full lips when Pope’s hand runs along the lining of your underwear, and you run the usual through your head.

Everything was good down there, nice and smooth, ready for ac-

Your eyes pop open as you realize everything was not ready for action. You’d been so wrapped up in horniness you didn’t even think about it. With everything going on and you two never having time for sex, you haven’t really shaved in a few weeks. And with Pope being impulsive for the first time in his life, you didn’t have time to prepare yourself. You thought you’d be taking orders and bussing tables right about now.

You moved your lips distractedly against his, thinking to yourself how maybe you can just slip to the bathroom. But he would get suspicious if you took too long. You could always tell him, it’s not like he’s never seen hair before but normally you keep it clean shaven before you have sex just as a personal preference.

Pope notices your distraction, pulling away with knitted eyebrows, “What’s wrong? Am I moving too fast?”

“No, you’re great. I, um, I just.. remembered I haven’t really shaved in a little while.”

Pope pauses in his movements, head tilting slightly. You mistake his reaction for distaste, quickly sitting up and shaking your head. “We don’t have to do anything! I can just do something for you.. I still missed you.”

Pope still wears the same expression, and you bite your lip, “I’m sorry for not being ready, babe, you just surprised me-”

“What- I’m not mad,” Pope shakes his head with a confused smile, bringing your hands up to his lips to kiss them. “I’m just a little lost. Do you not want to have sex?”

“Of course I do,” You reply, shrugging awkwardly as your face flushes. “I’m saying that if you don’t want to-“

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“Because I’m not..” You motion your head to between your legs, Pope following your line of vision. You watch the moment  it clicks as he nods with pursed lips.

“Y/N.. I’m gonna say this is in the nicest way possible,” He starts, kissing your knuckles one more time before settling over you. “I don’t give a single fuck.”

You laugh, Pope smiling in return as you look up at him,“Really?”

He nods slightly, eyes darkening as he gazes down at you. He presses himself back against you, “Come ‘ere.”

You lean up to meet his lips, Pope returning his hand to the top of your underwear.  You spread your legs more to give him room as he slides his hands into your panties, moaning as he rubbed up and down your folds. It took you a second to get over the insecurity of not being shaved, but Pope’s groan against your lips when he felt your slickness helped.

He circled his fingers on your clit, your head leaning back to rest on the pillow. Pope places kisses on your neck as he moves his fingers to your entrance, gathering the wetness before sliding them both in. Your mouth falls open as he pumps his fingers slowly inside your heat, hand coming to grasp the back of his neck.

You roll your hips to meet his fingers, Pope pulling away to watch his hands move in your underwear. He curses to himself as he sees your wetness through your underwear, your juices practically soaking his hand at this point. He moves his head back to yours to give you a soft kiss.

“I’m gonna take your underwear off now, okay?”

You nod, biting your lip as Pope pulls away fully to slide your underwear down your legs. You keep your thighs together at first, Pope kissing both of your knees before grabbing them both in his hands, spreading your legs out so he can see your folds.

He moves further down the bed, placing kisses from your knees down the middle of your thighs as he settles his head over your heat. He blows on your folds, making you giggle and buck your hips slightly at the cold air hitting your warm center. He gives you a slanted smile, wrapping his arms around your thighs and using his fingers to spread your lips.

Your breathing picks up as he runs his tongue up your folds before enveloping your entire pussy in his mouth. His arms tighten around your thighs when you start to squirm, his head moving up and down as he sucks your folds. As much as you wanted to and could come from this alone, it’s been too long since you’ve felt him.

“Pope,” You whine, hitting his shoulder to catch his attention. He hums against you, licking you a couple more times before pulling off, “Yeah?”

“I want you inside of me,” You start pulling at his arms, Pope nodding quickly as he kisses your pussy one last time. He removes his arms from around your thighs, sitting up and grunting as you immediately pull him over you. Your hand lightly cups his jaw as he leans in to give you a heated kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan at the taste of him, hands moving to his waist as he starts to grind on you. Hard as ever, Pope groans become more frequent as he presses himself harder against you. You move your hands to his hips, pulling at his boxers and sliding them down. He finishes the job, pulling at them until they are down his legs and throwing them.

Moving back over you, he hovers over you as he takes your breast in his hands, kissing and sucking at them like he’s never gonna see them again. You whine his name again, making him smile into your chest as he pulls off to kiss you, “So needy.”

You lift an eyebrow, cupping his dick in your hand and stroking it. He shudders, hips bucking into your hands as he moans your name. You give him an amused look, “So needy.”

“Shut up,” He jokes back, slapping your hand away and sitting up. He lines his cock with your folds, pushing in slowly. He slides in embarrassingly easy, your eyes closing at the feeling of him inside of you after so long. He places his elbows next to your head as he leans over you, not moving his hips as he leans down to kiss you.

“You okay?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

You nod your head, eyes still closed but relaxing your muscles. He places soft kisses on your jaw and neck as he waits for you to give him the go, and when your legs wrap around his waist as you pull him deeper inside of you, he takes that as the cue.

He starts to move inside of you, pulling all the way out to push back in with hard, slow thrusts. Your head throws back at the feeling of his cock stretching you out as he kisses anywhere he can get lips on, moving faster.

The sound of skin slapping together rings throughout the room, Pope taking your legs from around his waist to fold them as he sits up and presses himself deeper inside of you. He’s trying to hold back his moans, biting his lip as his eyes close in pleasure. You on the other hand are a moaning mess.

Your eyes trace his face, head tilted back as he groans softly at the feeling of you. Your hand comes to his stomach, touching the muscle as he moves his hips harder to slam into you. Your moans are tumbling from your lips, your pussy soaking his cock as he moves inside of you.

After a little bit, knowing neither of you were gonna last that long, you grew needier the more he was quiet. You want to hear him moan, knowing the exact position to get what you want.

“Hold on,” You breathe out, Pope slowing down as he looks down at you. You push him away so he can pull out, making room so you can flip over. “I wanna..”

You flip over and get on your knees, moving the pillows from the bed and throwing them. Leaning on your forearms, you arch your back and push your ass back onto him. Your breasts are pressed against the sheets, offering some friction for your hard, sensitive nipples.

“Fucking hell.”

Pope curses, instantly getting on his knees and pressing himself against you. He slaps his dick on your ass, breathing hard as he pulls away a little to lean down to kiss both of the cheeks of your ass softly. You giggle at the feeling, shaking your ass playfully.

He sits up, hands coming to your ass and gripping the flesh. He spreads them as he moves closer to you, tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. He pushes himself in all the way to the hilt as you rest your forehead against your forearms, moaning loudly.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Mhm..” You nod, eyes fluttering as he starts to move inside of you, cock reaching deeper inside of you in this position.  “So deep like this.”

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good,” He groans, hands gripping your ass harder now. “I’m gonna fuck you harder now, alright?”

“Please,” You whine, a broken gasp leaving you as he starts to pound his cock inside of you. Your ass moves at the force he’s fucking you with, you moaning loudly as you push back to meet his thrusts. Pope watches you as you do so, a combination of your name and loud groans coming from him as he continues to pump himself inside of you.

He leans down, leaving wet kisses down the middle of your back as your legs begin to vibrate, head thrown back as your eyes close in ecstasy. Pope slaps your ass, making your pussy clench as you move back faster against him.

“You getting close?” He mumbles into your back, kissing a couple more times as you nod your head before sitting back up on his knees. “Me too. Come whenever you want, baby.”

He grabs your hips, stopping your own movements as he fucks himself harder into you. He’s moving faster now, cock hitting the perfect spot.

“Right there,” You squeak out, head pushing into the sheets as your hand grips the sheets, bringing your other hand between your legs to rub at your clit. You’re moaning loudly as he makes sure he continues to hit that spot inside of you, deep moans falling from his lips.

“There? I got you, baby, let go for me.”

From his words and the way he’s massaging your hips now, your eyes roll as your orgasm washes over you. Pope moves faster, mumbling incoherently as he lets himself get louder, thrusts growing slow and he’s again when he reaches his own climax. His orgasm magnifies yours, you nodding into the sheets as you bite down.

He slams his hips into yours, holding himself there for a couple of seconds before pulling back and continuing the same motion as he comes inside of you. He falls into your back as his orgasm begins to make his legs shake, kissing your upper back as he continues to come.

“So good… Missed you so much .. You’re so perfect,” He mumbles in between kisses as he rides out both of your highs. As they subsides, he rests against your for a little while longer before pulling out. He helps you flip back over, laying next to you as he pulls you into his side. You look up at him, adoration laced in your expression.

Moving your hair from your face, a ghost of a smile is on his lips as he peers down at you, "You good?"

"Yeah, you?"

"More than good," He kissed you, the two of you smiling into the kiss. Pulling back, he leans his head back on the bed as the two of you lay there in the comfortable silence.

"Okay," You mutter, kissing his chest before sitting up. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. You pick the pillows up off the ground and get your computer. Time for us.."

You lean back over him to peck his lips, "..To have some quality time."

"Sounds great," He responds, watching you as you get off the bed. You reach down to grab his discarded shirt, Pope catching your attention. "Uh, don't put any pants on."

You smirk over at him, shaking your head amusedly as you throw his shirt over you. He gets off the bed, walking over to you and holding your waist as he pulls you into him, "I kind of like the thought of you walking around with just my shirt on."

"Is that so?" You mutter, Pope nodding and kissing you. 

Pope moves his lips to your forehead as he lands a small slap on your ass, “And don’t ever worry about that shit again.” 

Knowing what he was talking about, your face flushes again as you gaze up at him. His eyes are serious as he looks down at you, “I mean it.” 

Biting your lip at his tone, you lean up to kiss his lips, “Yes, sir.” 

He slaps your ass again at that, pushing you away while mumbling about you starting something, making you laugh. You pull back, heading to the door as he goes to pick up the discard pillow from across the room.

[theowritesstuff]

Number 35. "kiss me better" with Jamie Tartt please!

☺️

You Called Me Jamie

Jamie Tartt x gn!reader

A/N: This prompt is spot on for Jamie, I can totally see him saying that

Warnings: sports related injuries

General Taglist: @nptnewr @violetrainbow412-blog

Jamie Tartt was one of AFC Richmond’s star players. He knew it, the team knew it, everyone knew it. According to Ted he was one of the team’s “aces”. His talent was matched by Dani Rojas, but as hard as others tried they couldn’t seem to measure up.

Countless times during training the coaches have had to tell him to pull back a bit, to pass the ball to his teammates, to let others score. He was getting better at being a team player after returning to Richmond, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still like to show off a bit.

He probably shouldn’t have challenged Isaac and Sam to a game against just him, but he couldn’t help it. Not when he’d seen them improve their skills, he just wanted to make sure he was still an ace.

He should’ve seen Sam running at him out of the corner of his eye, but was so focused on keeping the ball between his feet, that everything else around him started to fade away. He was so intently focused on the ball, getting closer and closer to the goal, until blam!

Sam had knocked Jamie down in an attempt to steal the ball. Jamie fell, somersaulting a few feet away, causing Sam and Isaac to pause the game. When he realized he wasn’t getting up, Sam ran back over to Jamie, apologizing profusely for hitting him hard enough to send him rolling down the pitch. Jamie sat up, wincing as his foot pressed into the ground.

Jamie insisted he was fine as Sam helped him up. Once standing Jamie felt his ankle give out, and wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

“I think I need to go to the treatment room.” He sighed.

This was the worst possible time for Jamie to be injured. They had a game coming up next week that the team had been stressing about. They’d all worked so hard in training, and now there was a possibility that Jamie wouldn’t be able to play?

Sam and Isaac helped him back into the building, getting instantly flanked by Ted, Beard, and Roy.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Ted asked, his voice laced with concern.

“We were just getting some extra practice, then I accidentally knocked him down…” Sam answered.

“That sounds fun, wish I could’ve seen it.” Roy replied, smirking.

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’m fine Coach, really.”

“Alright then.” Roy said. He grabbed Sam and Isaac and pulled them away from Jamie. He quickly lost his balance, and put his foot back on the ground, inhaling sharply at the pain.

“I’m just gonna lean against the wall, for no reason.” He said, turning to lean against the wall, lifting his foot back up.

“No reason?” Beard asked.

“Jamie, you’re going to the treatment room. We’re gonna have Y/n take a look at that.” Ted gestured to his foot.

Now it was Jamie’s turn to smirk. Rebecca had decided that having someone with medical knowledge working full time in the treatment room would be a good idea, especially now that they had rid the room of the ghosts.

Jamie had flirted with you nonstop since he’d first seen you at work. You’d heard about how Jamie was a handful to deal with, but that he was putting his best foot forward in working to become a better version of himself. That still didn’t stop him from turning on his charm and attempting to get a date with you.

You’d turned him down every time he’d asked though, claiming that it was “inappropriate to date your co-worker” not to mention, Jamie’s dating history could make anyone unsure of themselves.

Jamie tried so hard to try to get you to spend at least a little bit of time with him, he complimented you every day, offered to buy you lunch, he even offered to drive you home a couple of times. Every one of Jamie’s attempts was met with “No Tartt.” Or “That’s not happening Tartt.” Or something along those lines.

When Ted had brought Jamie into the treatment room you were surprised. Jamie had almost never come in before, only on the off-chance he’d scraped himself up, or of course to flirt with you.

“What happened?” You asked as Ted helped Jamie up onto the table.

“Sam pushed him down.” Roy said from the doorway.

“It was an accident!” Sam called out from somewhere down the hall.

“Alright, alright, I’m gonna check him out, make sure everything’s okay.” You said as you ushered everyone else out of the room.

When you turned back to Jamie you could see his signature smirk on his face.

“I’d let you check me out whenever you like babe.” He said.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed.

You could tell that something with his foot was bothering him. You held the heel of his shoe, and rolled his foot in a circular motion.

“Fucking hell!” He gasped, trying to pull away.

You could see that his ankle was already starting to swell up under his sock. You pressed against it in various spots, causing Jamie to curse and complain.

“Well, it looks like you either twisted or rolled your ankle in your fall. You’re going to have to stay off it as much as possible, ice it, let it heal, I’d say for at least a week.” You told him.

“A week?” He exclaimed. He had an incredulous expression on his face. “I can’t not play for a week, we’ve got a match coming up!”

“Sorry Tartt, you need to let it heal.” You told him.

You watched as he pouted, a small frown on his face. He looked dejected, that is until he sat up, his grin present once again.

“Kiss me better?” He asked.

“Tartt-”

“You’re supposed to make me feel better, and I think a kiss is really gonna speed up the healing process.” He said, big brown doe eyes looking up at you. “You don’t have to, it’s fine. I’m sure this is an injury I can just walk off.” He moves forward like he’s going to hop off the table.

You rush forward and push him back, your hands resting on his chest. You can feel the muscle in his chest through his shirt. When your eyes travel back up to his face he’s smirking down at you.

You pull your hands off of him and sigh. “If I kiss you better, will you please rest? And let your ankle heal?” You asked him.

He nodded eagerly.

You walked back to the door to look through the frosted window, making sure people wouldn’t barge in. You walked back over to Jamie, and cupped his face. You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, for a soft, split-second kiss.

It may have been quick, but you had to admit, it was nice. It actually left you wanting more. You stepped away from the footballer, allowing him to slowly get down. He walked over to the door, but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Be careful Jamie.”

He turned to you, a soft smile on his face. “You called me Jamie.”

“Well, I figured why not call you by your first name if you’re going to take me out to dinner tonight.” You winked at him.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Gift for me

1) I am not back into Mingcheng, I'm very sorry to disappoint on that. This fic has been ready to go for a year now, and I am kind of happy to finally get it off my desktop XD

2) Happy New Year, may it be filled with love and softness and laughter and happiness for us all

Part 1 (Happy Birthday) Part 2 (Selfish Gift)

It’s the third birthday Nie Mingjue spends with Jiang Cheng right by his side and by now he stopped expecting anything. Jiang Cheng blew him out of the water when he actually cared more about his birthday than about any New Year’s celebration and then a year later he did it again when he asked Nie Mingjue to move in together.

This year—well this year, it’s Nie Mingjue who has a surprise for Jiang Cheng.

He had wanted to give it to him in bed, when they were both still sleep-warm and relaxed but of course Jiang Cheng doesn’t stick to any kind of plan at all and isn’t in bed when Nie Mingjue wakes up.

“A-Cheng,” Nie Mingjue groans out, his hands grasping at already cold sheets and his mood already turning for the worse.

“I’m right here, my heart,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile as he sticks his head into the bedroom but he’s not where he’s supposed to be, which is warm and lazy in Nie Mingjue’s arms.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue demands to know, mustering his best glare even though he knows it’s not much, this soon after waking up.

“We’re getting guests in about half an hour,” Jiang Cheng informs him and Nie Mingjue lets his head drop back with a groan.

“What? No. Why? What happened to spending my birthday in bed together?” he demands to know because this wasn’t the plan.

“But we woke up together all year,” Jiang Cheng gives back and at that Nie Mingjue throws him an outraged look.

“You think waking up together every other day gets you out of waking up together on my birthday?” Nie Mingjue is honestly lost for words how Jiang Cheng could arrive at such a horrendously wrong conclusion but he softens a bit when Jiang Cheng laughs at him.

It is still one of Nie Mingjue’s most cherished sounds.

“Not really,” he admits as he comes closer to sit on Nie Mingjue’s side of the bed. “But you know that Huaisang and Xuanyu are leaving for their holiday early tomorrow morning so we decided to have your birthday celebration a little bit earlier.”

“I preferred it when we celebrated my birthday a week late,” Nie Mingjue grumbles even as he pulls Jiang Cheng in for a kiss.

“Liar,” Jiang Cheng whispers back and kisses Nie Mingjue again. “Happy birthday, my soul.”

“Good morning, my heart,” he gives back, still a bit unhappy with how this day is going but he guesses he has to make the best of it now. “Will we have dinner alone, then?” he asks because so far Jiang Cheng at least made sure to always spend one meal a day with Nie Mingjue alone.

“Yes. I will kick everyone out after cake, don’t worry. We’ll do dinner and a movie on the couch, with all the cuddles you could want.”

It feels a little bit like a consolation prize with how cold the bed was when Nie Mingjue woke up but he will take whatever he can get.

“Fine,” he finally heaves out because what else can he really say and Jiang Cheng laughs at him.

“Don’t even pretend to be a grump, I know you too well,” he teases him and flicks his forehead for good measure too.

“You’ll still have to make it up to me,” Nie Mingjue decides as he gets out of bed and Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow at him in question.

“And how would I do that?” he wants to know and Nie Mingjue gives him a devilish grin as he leans down to give him a much more heated kiss.

“You’ll simply have to wake up in my arms for at least a month straight,” he then tells him and leaves Jiang Cheng right there on the bedside as he walks off to the bathroom to get himself ready for their guests.

And to wrap up his gift in a different way, now that his original plan has been ruined.

Nie Mingjue laughs out loud when he hears Jiang Cheng splutter behind him and he has to admit that this birthday is still good, simply because Jiang Cheng is right there with him.

~*~*~

The day itself is busy. Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu come over for brunch but leave early in the afternoon because they still have some packing to do. Nie Mingjue’s friends arrive shortly before Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu leave but true to his word, Jiang Cheng throws them all out an hour after cake.

Nie Mingjue watches it with a smile but he lets him do it because it is what was promised and Nie Mingjue is now actually looking forward to a relaxing evening with Jiang Cheng.

He loves his family and friends but these celebrations are always a bit too much for him, especially if they are this stretched out.

“Tired?” Jiang Cheng predictably asks when he comes back from kicking the last lingering friend out and finds Nie Mingjue on the couch, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue easily says because admitting to these things is always easy with Jiang Cheng.

“Too much?” Jiang Cheng asks next and stands behind the couch, so he can scratch lightly at Nie Mingjue’s scalp.

“Mh, no, just right,” Nie Mingjue admits. “An hour longer though—” he trails off, trusting Jiang Cheng to understand what he means and when Jiang Cheng laughs, he knows he did.

“And you would have started to murder people, I get it,” he chuckles out and then leans over to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s forehead. “But no murder on your birthday. Only relaxing stuff for us now.”

“Are you going to cook?” Nie Mingjue asks, and he reaches up to grab Jiang Cheng by the forearms.

Suddenly the idea that Jiang Cheng will cook in the kitchen and Nie Mingjue is left with nothing to do but watch him seems like the worst idea ever.

“Nope,” Jiang Cheng cheerfully tells him and simply flips over the back of the couch when it becomes apparent that Nie Mingjue is not going to let him go. “I thought we order in today.”

“Good thinking,” Nie Mingjue hums out, leaning over to steal a kiss and then wrangles Jiang Cheng around until he’s arranged to his liking, mainly in Nie Mingjue’s arms and with no way to run off again.

“Clingy much?” Jiang Cheng teases him but Nie Mingjue only hums because Jiang Cheng is fooling no one. He went boneless the moment Nie Mingjue pulled him into his arms and so Nie Mingjue simply presses a kiss to his head.

They doze off like that on the couch for a while, and Nie Mingjue has to admit that this is still good; it’s not waking up with Jiang Cheng in bed levels of good, but it comes close, simply because they get to share this soft moment together.

And even though it has been a year Nie Mingjue hasn’t quite forgotten what happened on his last birthday, so when Jiang Cheng’s stomach grumbles and basically wakes them up, Nie Mingjue laughs.

“You’re so rude,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, pawing at him to try and get away, but Nie Mingjue is not going to let him.

“And you’re so starved,” he teases right back, leaning in for a kiss when Jiang Cheng pouts at him.

“I’ll truly be starved by the time dinner comes around,” he complains and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Get some more cake then?” he tells him even though he has no intention of letting Jiang Cheng out of his arms any time soon.

“First let’s order something,” Jiang Cheng decides, fishing for his phone.

He makes quick work of their order and doesn’t even bother to ask what Nie Mingjue would like; they both have their favourites at several different delivery places and Nie Mingjue is content to simply be surprised by dinner tonight.

“Now let go of me, I’ll starve for real,” Jiang Cheng then says as he puts the phone away and he tries to struggle out of Nie Mingjue’s arms whose intentions haven’t changed.

“Nope, you’ll have to live off my love for you for a while,” Nie Mingjue tells him with a laugh that only gets deeper when Jiang Cheng flops around like a fish.

“You’re ridiculous,” Nie Mingjue says when Jiang Cheng finally exhausted himself and Jiang Cheng blinks up at him.

“You love me,” he says and Nie Mingjue will probably never stop marvelling at the fact that Jiang Cheng doesn’t doubt this at all.

It makes Nie Mingjue very proud to know that he loves Jiang Cheng well enough that none of Jiang Cheng’s insecurities can ruin this.

“That I do,” Nie Mingjue immediately says and drops a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s nose.

They get lost in trading kisses until it rings at their door and even the sweet promise of food is almost not enough to lure Jiang Cheng away from Nie Mingjue.

“Weren’t you starving?” he finally asks when Jiang Cheng makes no move to open the door and that finally prompts Jiang Cheng to get up.

“I was living off your love,” he throws over his shoulder even as he goes to retrieve their food and Nie Mingjue takes that little window of opportunity to dart into the bedroom to get his gift.

The gift giving part of the day is already over, but Nie Mingjue didn’t want to do this with everyone else around; this is just for him and Jiang Cheng, at least for today.

He makes a detour through the kitchen to bring supplies to the living-room and when he comes back Jiang Cheng is already unloading their food on the table.

“Do you know what you want to watch?” Jiang Cheng asks him as he works, not sparing a glance for Nie Mingjue.

“Yep,” Nie Mingjue says, even though a movie is very far from his mind right now and when Jiang Cheng expectantly turns around to him, he slips the gift onto Jiang Cheng’s plate.

He’s of course not fast enough to escape Jiang Cheng’s notice, so he immediately turns around to look at what Nie Mingjue just did.

“What the hell is this?” Jiang Cheng demands to know, crossing his arms in front of his chest and Nie Mingjue sits down on the couch, pretending that his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest.

“What does it look like?” he innocently gives back and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“Like a goddamn present.”

“Then that’s probably what it is,” Nie Mingjue teasingly says and doesn’t shrink back under Jiang Cheng’s glare.

“It’s your birthday. Why the hell am I getting a gift?”

“It is, technically, a gift for me,” Nie Mingjue says and now the glare melts off Jiang Cheng’s face to turn into a confused frown.

“But I’m the one who’s supposed to open it?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Jiang Cheng hums out and gingerly picks the wrapped gift up.

He tries to shake it to see if it rattles and he seems surprised when it does.

“Am I going to break it?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” Nie Mingjue laughs out when Jiang Cheng continues to poke at it instead of opening it up but finally he rips the wrapping paper apart.

He is met with a cardboard box Nie Mingjue found lying around in their bedroom this morning and it clearly does nothing to solve his confusion.

“What the hell is this?” he breathes out again, working on getting the box open and Nie Mingjue leans forward in anticipation.

It seems as if Jiang Cheng’s impatience finally won out because he rips the box open the last bit and then he immediately freezes.

And Nie Mingjue slides off the couch, onto one knee.

“My heart,” he starts as he reaches into the box to get the little black box out and it seems as just that is enough to make Jiang Cheng cry.

“Yes,” he gets out, his voice all choked up and Nie Mingjue laughs.

“I didn’t even say anything yet, don’t be so impatient,” he chides him but he catches Jiang Cheng’s hand in his to press a kiss to his fingers.

“My heart,” he repeats. “Will you give me the greatest birthday gift of them all and marry me?” he then asks and flicks the box open to reveal a ring.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jiang Cheng chants out, tearing his gaze away from the ring and cupping Nie Mingjue’s face in his hands. “I will marry you, my soul,” he whispers and when he leans in to kiss Nie Mingjue the tears spill over.

“Best birthday ever,” Nie Mingjue mumbles when they part and he takes that opportunity to slide the ring on Jiang Cheng’s finger.

“Best birthday ever,” Jiang Cheng agrees, marvelling at the ring now on his hand and Nie Mingjue isn’t sure if he’s ever seen him smiling so much.

But to be fair, he isn’t sure if he’s ever smiled so much in his life before either.

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng tells him, intertwining their fingers and Nie Mingjue feels as if he’s going to melt with all the love he has for this man.

“I love you,” he gives back even though that should be pretty much obvious by now and then he pulls Jiang Cheng in for a kiss.

Their food is—yet again—cold by the time they manage to part enough to remember it but Nie Mingjue thinks if this is the tradition they are going to set for his birthday then he’s not going to mind that much.

Not if being incandescently happy comes right along with that.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Meddling Mar Monday

About time we checked in on the Demolition Brothers! The chapter index can be found HERE

Alma's kitchen was full of spices and vegetables that Jak had never seen before -- or maybe he had, but they'd been pickled and preserved beyond recognition in Haven. These were fresh, filling the room with vibrant reds and yellows and greens, and Jak couldn't help wondering what they tasted like raw. He gave his hands a perfunctory rinse at the sink and stood awkwardly beside a long strand of hanging peppers, waiting to be given some kind of direction. Daxter seemed far more comfortable, cracking his knuckles and opening cabinets without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Alrighty, where's your measuring cups?" he asked.

Alma snorted. "Measuring cups? I use the scale! Go get my pot of salt off the table -- black lid -- and don't you dare drop it, Pequeño! That stuff is expensive!"

She glanced down at Mar. "You gonna wash your hands or what?" she asked.

Mar unwrapped his arms from around the caprid fawn's neck and signed, "Or what."

Behind Alma, Jak groaned. Was this what it was like to be Torn? In sharp gestures he warned Mar, "Don't push her buttons, we need this to work out. Do you want to go back to the tower?"

"No!"

"Then be nice! Treat her like she's the Bird Lady or something!"

Mar pouted and wrapped his arms around Cabbie again. Jak noted the disapproval on Alma's face and grimaced at Daxter. They weren't off to a great start. Daxter grimaced back, but held up a hand as if to calm Jak.

Jak might not have remembered a lot of what he'd been like at Mar's age, but Daxter did. And Daxter could hazard a guess as to the root of Mar’s contrariness.

"Sorry about Junior," he piped up in a lighthearted tone, "He has trouble transitioning between activities, especially in a new environment. In my experience, you gotta set a clear expectation and timeline, and then stick to it."

Jak blinked. "Wait, really?"

His best friend gave him a wry look. "You were exactly the same, pal. I have experience."

Alma appeared to be considering this for a moment. At first, Jak thought she would agree to give Mar a few more minutes to switch between tasks. But then she pointed a skinny finger towards a low door at the back of the kitchen.

"If you aren't gonna help make bread, you can take Cabbie and go help with the caprids," she said, shrugging the shoulder that sat lower.

"Don't have to wash your hands for that."

Mar frowned thoughtfully and considered his options. If he helped outside, that would mean he was still playing with Cabbie, right? And then he'd get to see more caprids! So far they weren't much like crocadogs, but they weren't boring like yakkows, either. Mar liked animals, especially the ones that could play with him.

He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he asked, "Can I feed them?"

"They've already been fed today," Alma answered, "Don't believe them if they act hungry. They'd eat the house if they could. Just fill the water trough alright?"

Mar let himself out the back, and almost immediately came back in.

"Where's the water?"

As Alma had her back to him, Jak quickly relayed Mar's question. The woman didn't look up from tossing flour and water into a bowl.

"See those big meshes out there? They harvest fog. The barrels underneath catch the water. Use the tap to fill up a bucket -- turn it off before you walk away!"

"Okay!" Mar hopped back down off the step and into some kind of courtyard between buildings. Metallic jangling and caprids bleating nearly drowned him out.

Alma turned her head. "Close the door!" she called, "Don't let the little criminals in here!"

Upon hearing Jak's snicker, she scooted the bowl towards him. "Here, young-arms. Mix that until it's evenly goopy."

Well, that couldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong.

Jak's first attempt sent watery flour splattering across the counter, Daxter, and anything in range. His dismay must have shown on his face, because Alma didn't berate him. She grumbled about wasted dough, but it was under her breath.

"Not so hard, boy! You aren't trying to kill it!"

Being told not to kill something was a bit of a reversal from what people normally demanded of him. It was all destroy, destroy, destroy. And while Jak could admit -- and would admit freely -- to taking pleasure in the destruction of things, like mining platforms and KG bases, he'd always hated being ordered to destroy people. It was much too close to what Praxis had wanted to make him into. A soldier; an executioner. Made to destroy and good for nothing else.

I can do more than destroy, he insisted to himself, I'm gonna have to if I want to survive out here. How am I supposed to take care of Dax and Mar if I can't even make dough without ruining it?

But he couldn't ask for help. He'd look like some useless city-slicker who didn't know how to work! Gingerly, he pushed his fist into the gooey mixture again. It wasn't a very nice texture, all sloppy and wet. Gritting his teeth, he mixed and pushed until it clung to his hand from every side of the bowl. The texture was awful. He closed his eyes and told himself to ignore his skin screaming at him.

"Is...is this right?" He lowered the bowl to show Alma.

The landlady eyed it critically, rubbing her chin. "Good enough. Now we add the yeast."

Daxter hopped up onto the counter and nudged Jak sympathetically. "I got this. You get that gunk off your hands before you blow a gasket."

Gratefully, Jak ceded the bowl and did his best to scrape his hands off on the rim. The landlady probably wouldn't want him washing this stuff down the drain, he guessed. He suppressed a shudder and rubbed his fingers together under the pump water until the stickiness dissipated. Felt too much like metalhead guts.

"City boy," Alma scoffed.

Jak bristled. "Stick your hands in metalhead entrails a couple hundred times," he shot back, "and maybe you won't like the texture anymore either."

Alma lowered her brows at him. "Don't take that tone with me, chico," she warned.

"Then don't make assumptions about me," Jak retorted through gritted teeth.

Don't snap. Lower your voice. Hands where she can see them. If you're dangerous where people can see you, you'll get yourself and the guys kicked out.

For a moment they held each other's gaze, neither willing to back down in a silent standoff. Then Alma thumped her cane against the floor and scoffed.

"You've got some fire to you, boy. Good. I don't want any mealy-mouthed suckups in my house -- but you still better watch your mouth, eh?"

Jak grumbled an assent and flicked the last of the flour mixture off his fingers with a shudder. Dark eco hypersensitivity was a special kind of hell. It had been mercifully absent during their time in the convalescence ward, but the heat of the day seemed to be drawing it out again.

"I'm gonna check on M-" Jak caught himself at the last second- "My brother."

"Don't let any caprids in the house," Alma warned dismissively.

"And get your things up to your room! We don't have bellhop service here."

Daxter checked the yeast and tossed some flour onto the counter. "Uh...about that. Yeah, what you see is what you get. We don't have any stuff."

Alma half turned and looked around her kitchen skeptically, as if expecting to see a hidden pile of luggage. When no such baggage appeared, she shook her head -- whether it was in judgement or sympathy wasn't clear.

"When they come get you this evening to show you how to get groceries," she said to Jak, "Tell 'em Alma said you need a clothing allowance."

The room the boys would be renting wasn't particularly large. There was a sink, a tiny cook top, and a low table in one corner, a bathroom in another, and everything else was open space. Some hooks on the rafters suggested that previous tenants had divided the room with curtains for a while. That was probably the most privacy Jak was going to get in a place like this.

At least I don't have any extra clothes to worry about changing into. That definitely lowers the chances of Mar seeing my scars.

Pushed against the far wall, opposite the bathroom, was a low, wide, bed. There were no blankets on it, and the pallet was old and worn. But it was better than most places Jak had slept in Haven, and he wasn't going to complain as long as there was room for all three of them. He sank down onto a corner of the pallet and unlaced his boots with a sigh. As much as everyone kept repeating that he wouldn't be put to work, Jak knew it would only last until they saw what he was capable of. Which would mean he'd be able to keep them fed, but in this kind of heat it would probably be exhausting. Better to take it easy while he could.

[morganaspendragonss]

heart catches on every thorn

in which i take the revelation scene and modify it to let tk actually have some feelings and react

not really interested in going over arguments again so i'm just going to drop this and then back away title from sweet hibiscus tea by penelope scott

ao3 | 1.1k | 4.01 spoilers, hurt/comfort

The sound of the crew’s laughter floats up to them, proof that the world hasn’t stopped even if it feels like it has for TK. He’s sitting on the end of his bed in the bunkroom, Carlos above him on the divider, and this news above him, casting a shadow over the brightness of these weeks since he proposed. He’d imagined so many things going wrong, had almost counted on it, really, but not this. Never this; never even anything close to this. 

TK doesn’t blame Carlos for what he did when he was eighteen, adrift in a family he believed wouldn’t accept him. How could he? He will never be able to understand how Carlos must have felt back then and TK has long since made his peace with that. He doesn’t even blame him for continuing the marriage after Iris came back; TK knows as well as anyone – perhaps even better, given his job and numerous hospital stays – that the system in this country is broken and that desperate, extreme measures are sometimes necessary to stay afloat, much as he wishes it weren’t so.

TK understands all that, and he’s okay with it. What’s harder to get his head around is that he’s only just hearing about this.

“Why did you never tell me?” he asks, chancing a glance up at Carlos. His fiancé looks destroyed, eyes wide and sad, and it tugs on TK’s heart like only Carlos can. He wants nothing more than to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay – and it will; if TK has faith in anything, it’s that they are strong enough to get through whatever fate sees fit to throw at them. But he needs to understand first.

Carlos takes a shaky breath and looks down at his hands, then back up at TK. “I didn’t know how,” he says. “I thought she was dead and we weren’t…you know. Things were complicated, and then after she came back she needed me. She needed my help. And we were just so new that I didn’t want to ruin it with something as huge as–as this. The situation got out of hand and I didn’t know how to deal with it so I just didn’t and I convinced myself that if you ever found out you would—”

He cuts himself off, but TK knows what he was going to say.

“You thought I would run away,” he surmises. Carlos starts to stammer an objection, but, though the thought sets off a dull ache in TK’s chest, he can’t deny it. “No,” he says heavily. “You were right. I… I probably would have. If you had told me this two years ago, I probably would have run away.”

It’s a paradox, in a way. TK wishes Carlos had been honest with him from the beginning, but if he had known when they first started dating, it would be a lie to say that he wouldn’t have been tempted to turn tail and run. So maybe Carlos not saying anything was what got them here, to a day where they can talk about this and move past it.

But still. Still.

It doesn’t get rid of the ache in TK’s chest and the terrible thought at the back of his mind that the past three years have been built around a lie. That he doesn’t truly know the man he’s planning on marrying. That there are other secrets, other skeletons, that are just waiting for their moment to jump out.

If he thinks about it anymore, then he will get pissed. He will explode, and TK doesn’t know how far he’ll be able to control the damage. So, he stands and takes a step back.

“I love you,” he says gently, pouring as much of himself as he can into the words to convince Carlos he’s telling the truth, “and I’m not running away. But I need some time.”

Carlos’s face falls and TK can’t help but to close the distance once more, wrapping his arms around Carlos’s neck and holding him close. “We’ll be okay,” he murmurs in his ear, pressing the lightest of kisses to his skin. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise.”

TK pulls back then, sliding his hands down Carlos’s sides until they fall back to his own. “But I need to figure this out for myself first, okay?”

Carlos swallows, nods. TK sends him a watery smile and gently strokes his cheek. “I love you,” he says, then turns away – to go where, he doesn’t know; just somewhere he can process everything for a moment.

“TK, wait.” 

Carlos’s voice stops him in his tracks and TK waits as he catches up to him, a hand nervously running through his hair and mussing the tightly gelled formation he keeps it in for work. It distracts TK for a second; Carlos is perfect in every way, but his curls are one of TK’s favourite physical features of his. He loves getting his fingers caught up in the strands, tugging at them and playing with them and messing them up even though Carlos pretends to hate it. He itches to reach up and do it now, but Carlos’s next words shock him out of his thoughts.

“There’s something else,” Carlos says, though his eyes quickly widen and, before TK can spiral any further, he rushes to correct himself. “Not a secret. Or–or anything bad, I swear. It’s just…the venue called earlier. They had a cancellation and they’re offering us the spot. It’s in, um…” He trails off and his gaze turns down, but TK doesn’t get a chance to ask before he continues, “It’s in eight weeks.”

“Eight– Baby, that’s…” An out-of-control grin tugs at TK’s lips, but he can’t forget what’s looming over them and the joy is fast replaced by an almost overwhelming anxiety. “Can we make that?”

“Texas law requires you to be divorced for a month before remarrying,” Carlos tells him, and the anxiety goes up another notch. “It’s tight, I know, but we can make it. We will, TK, I’m going to do everything in my power to make this right. I will make it right.”

“We will,” TK corrects gently. “Just…not right now. Give me a minute to get my head around things first.”

“As many as you want,” Carlos promises, and that… Well, it’s a start. TK’s under no illusion about the headfuck this is going to cause, and just thinking about the newly accelerated timeline and the urgency of getting this divorce is enough to set his entire body on edge. It’s a lot – too much – and he knows he’s got some conversations with Cooper ahead of him to make sure he stays firmly on the ledge.

But TK has faith, and he’s going to cling to it with everything he has.

[steam-powered-chaos]

SPG Villain Au (Chapter 4)

{Tw: corpses, puppet imagery, descriptions of death}

"Hold this." The golden automaton hands Violet some fabric, as they avert their eyes from the corpse. Its head rolls down to rest on its chest, almost as if it had simply fallen asleep, and if they didn't know any better and it didn't have an axe in its back, Violet would say the 'puppet' was asleep, or a very convincing doll. They took the dark green fabric without thinking, staring away from him. The Puppeteer frowned at their reaction, grabbing their chin to force them to look at the corpse, their pupils dilating slightly in panic. He laughed at their reaction as they started to gag, taking in the full features of the corpse. The Puppeteer snapped his fingers at Violet, and they shook their head, giving him a hateful glare as they gripped the sheet of fabric. "Focus on the task at hand, little birdie! We should make some clothes for this darling little puppet before I start painting it!" He began to laugh harder, and they flinched. He was completely mad, that was clear, or at least, as crazy as a robot could be.

Violet sighed, holding still as he measured, hmm'd and ah'd, before the golden robot slowly brought out a large pair of scissors. Noticing Violet's fear cross across their face, he chuckled quietly to himself, before The Puppeteer swiftly cut the fabric, taking the pieces from their trembling hands. He paused, a look of concern crossing his face as he gently placed his hands on Violet’s. He tilted his golden head, his curls falling to the side. “What’s wrong, my delightful little assistant? Cant have you trembling whilst I work, can I?” The Puppeteer laughed, although it quickly trailed off as they stared away, and he reached out, cupping their chin to force him to look at them with a freezing cold hand.

“You’re sad, why?” Violet shoved him away, staring down again. He released their chin, crouching to look at them. His optics dilated slightly upon noticing the tears in their eyes and he stood up, walking away into a cupboard, returning after a few minutes with a soft teddy bear in his hands, dropping it into their lap gently. Violet hesitated, before glancing up at him, as he turned away quickly. “His name is Bronzey… I suppose you can hug him until you feel better.” They nodded, wiping their eyes and wrapping their arms around the toy. The Puppeteer continued to work, occasionally asking Violet to help hold some fabric, once the shock of being so close to a corpse had somewhat faded.

The workshop door swung open, and Violet spun around to stare as The Spine walked in, his feet making a loud click as he walked towards them. He paused at the sight of the teddy bear tucked in their arms, and he glanced at The Puppeteer, who had his back to his silver companion. Was that… a smile, that just crossed the automaton’s face? “Puppeteer, have you finished with them?” He asked , with the golden automaton giving a small nod, obviously engrossed in his work. The Spine gestured for Violet to stand, and they followed his direction, knowing it would be futile to resist. They left the bear on the chair, giving a backward glance as they were led out the workshop.