#i may have to do more softer shading on occasion

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

I tried to make a fake SFV screenshot for if Echo had a story mode definitely not my usual shading style but I gave it my best attempt!

[miss-tc-nova]

Obsession - Vil Schoenheit x Reader

I’ve been dragging my feet a bit on this one, but I really do love the concept. It would just be so easy for him. Anyway, this has a mix of yandere I think and I guess what could be misconstrued as a backwards hanahaki kind of thing...It’ll make sense when you read it. 

Premise: Vil can take no for an answer, at least for now.

Words: 2,086

Trigger warning: blood, choking, pain, yandere, toxic relationship

Music Inspiration: Baby One More Time (Cover) by Annapatsu

~~~~~

              How I ended up in this situation, I will never understand.

              Feet beat against the stone floor as the world flies by. Lungs blaze with pain, panic overwhelming my thoughts. With each exhale, the agony spikes. The walls in my chest tighten, causing the squirming that instigates the stabbing. It’s a vicious cycle that cannibalizes itself, bringing tears to my eyes as heavy liquid bubbles in each breath.

              I have to find him. I need him.

              I can’t live without him.

~~~~~

              Sunlight seeps between the leaves, dappling my shade with warmth that makes it the perfect spot to catch up on homework. At the moment, I’m on my own, Ace and Duece doing club activities and Grim off wandering like a cat does. There are still students passing by, filling the air with white noise, but it’s the film research club not far from me that provide most of it.

              From where I sit, I have the perfect view of the scene which is quiet well done.

              But what else could be expected with Vil Schoenhiet in the director’s seat.

              As if he knew I was watching, the young celebrity glances over. When we make eye contact, he flashes me a dazzling smile. Nobody can deny that Vil is gorgeous, but many may not have seen his softer side. I’ve caught glimpses of it on a few occasions. I can barely begin to recount the number of times the Pomfiore housewarden has saved my hide. Between teaching me and Grim how to use magic and tutoring me through homework, I owe the young man quite a bit. He also has a tendency to fix up my uniform or appearance should something be out of place. I can’t say we’re best friends, but surely we’re comfortable enough to have a friendly conversation and joke around.

              I hear my name. My gaze starts at the thirteen centimeters heals before climbing to those amethyst eyes. I’d spaced out; rehearsal is over.

              “Oh, hey Vil.”

              He takes my outreached hand to help me up.

              “Enjoy the performance?” he asks.

              “Oh, yeah. I can’t say I paid attention to all of it, but what I saw was really good.” His smile flickers. “I can’t wait to see the whole thing when it’s done.”

              His voice remains even. “Well I hope I can put on a show that takes your breath away.”

              “You always do,” I say brightly.

              Vil’s mouth opens to say something, but he hesitates. I’ve never seen that before. He’s always so confident in his every move that I was sure he had the answer to everything. Whatever’s on his mind must be incredibly imposing for him to second guess himself.

              And if I can, I want to be of help. “What’s wrong?”

              What miniscule anxiety plaguing him vanishes with smile that off balances my heart. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

              That’s not what I expected. Fire surges into my ears. “Wh-What?!”

              His laugh feels like tendrils sneaking around my heart and yet it’s the most genuine I’ve ever seen on him. “Of course you don’t. Perhaps that’s what makes you refreshing. No, that’s not quite right.” Eyes drink in my visage with the hunger of a man starving. “Intoxicating—that’s a better term for you.”

              “Um…Thank you?” I murmur.

              My body freezes up when he reaches forward. A hand takes mine with pure reverence. Those coils snap tight in my chest as his lips ghost my fingers, lingering, before his gaze finds mine once again.

              This is a problem.

              “I would be honored to take you on a date.”

              Oh, this is a very big problem.

              Anxiety bubbles inside, wavering in my voice. “O-Oh uh…I’m sorry but I’m not interested in dating right now.”

              His face blanks as if I’d spoken gibberish. I can see the gears behind his eyes working, struggling to understand my decline. Granted, I can’t imagine Vil’s had many rejections in his life, let alone from someone he was interested in.

              “Is there someone else?” That voice holds even, but denial belies it.

              “N-No. I just—”

              He doesn’t accept that. “Is it something I said? Is it my work schedule? Surely it’s something I can work on.”

              “No. Vil.” I hold up my hands before he can fire off another question. “Look, seriously, it’s nothing against you. In fact, I’m beyond flattered you asked. But I’m not from this world and I’m still trying to adjust. Between bumbling my way through magic classes without magic, learning an entirely new history, floundering through various magical scandals, and reining in my new dormmate-slash-partner, I’m just not ready to be in a relationship right now. I’m sorry.”

              “Oh. I see.” And yet that desire never falters. “I…apologize for my behavior.”

              Frantic hands wave before me. I just want this to end and I’m sure he does too. “No, that’s okay. Like I said, I’m flattered. But I hope we can still be friends?”

              To anyone on the outside, Vil’s smile is perfect and not at all out of the ordinary. To me, it’s a red flag. “Of course. Please excuse me; I need to help the film club clean up.”

              So Vil leaves and the awful, awkward situation ends. Still, something in the back of my mind whispers warnings. I do my best to ignore them though. Surely this ordeal is done and dusted—an embarrassment we’d both prefer to let die. So that’s what I strive for. In our following interactions, I do my best to pretend nothing happened, though as a professional actor, Vil does better than I do. At least we seem to be on the same page. He even proves there are no hard feelings by treating me to lunch the next day with the best frozen yogurt I’ve ever had for dessert.

              A few days after, however, I begin to feel a little strange. There’s a feeling of squirming in my chest. Initially I brush it off as a lack of sleep or water or something, but when I start to struggle breathing, I consider that maybe I’m sick and take a long weekend from classes.

              It doesn’t get better. No, it gets much worse.

              Constricted lung capacity only continues to wither, as if something heavy is infesting my rib cage. I can’t even climb a single flight of stairs without winding myself. What aching I had initially chalked up to coughing now sears like being stabbed from the inside. When another fit ends with blood in the sink, I finally admit that I need to see the school nurse.

              Though it’s the weekend, there should still be staff at the infirmary. Just as I pull open the front door, however, I’m met with a visitor.

              “Vil?” I rasp with a ragged throat.

              Immediately his brows rise in pity. “Oh you poor thing. You look miserable.”

              I nod, preferring not to aggravate the pain.

              A hand attempts to coax me back inside. “Come. Let me take care of you.”

              Breaking free, I shake my head. “No, I don’t want you to catch it.”

              “Don’t worry about me. You should lie down and rest.” Again, Vil attempts to redirect me back into my dorm.

              “No. St—”

              The writhing in my chest instigates another bought of choking.

              “Are you okay? I can—”

              Holding my hand up, I fight against the spasm in my chest that pricks tears in my eyes.

              “I’m okay.” Purely, a lie. “I’m gonna go see the nurse, but you should go before you get sick too.”

              “Hold on. Just let me—"

              Another cough sneaks up on me. I do my best to back away from the young man, but his grip takes my jacket. Wracked with pain and suffocating, I’m unable to resist his pull. Then, without warning, Vil’s fingers snag my chin, forcing my face to his. Velvet-soft lips descend upon mine, hungry, greedy.

              Instinctively, my fists snag his jacket to shove him off, but I notice it. Whatever squirms in my chest settles and recedes. I can breathe clear again.

              The kiss breaks with a soft click, my breath quaking. Prying my eyes open, I’m met with the horrific, utter delight in Vil’s eyes.

              “I was beginning to think it wouldn’t work.”  

              The blood drains from my face, blurring my vision and tempering my hearing. I can’t bring my voice louder than a whisper. “What did you do?”

              He smiles as if he’s entirely innocent. “I simply added a little incentive to choose me when you’re ready to start dating.”

              Appalled barely begins to describe how I feel. “How could you? I thought you cared about me.”

              That gets a frighting rise out of him. “Don’t you see? I care so much I had to do this.” As Vil closes the gap, I back into the wall behind me. He truly believes every word he says. “No one will take care of you like I can. No one is better for you than I am.”

              “Y-You’re insane!” I slip around him, heading for the door. “I have to find a teacher or the headmage or—”

              The unbothered reply is unnerving. “And tell them what?”

              I freeze. I have a retort; it’s clear. I would tell everyone what Vil did. I don’t care if it would ruin his image or reputation or whatever. This is sheer delusion and it’s putting me in danger.

              But not a sound leaves my mouth.

              It wasn’t just one curse.

              His caress is so soft. “Don’t fret, my gem.” A tremor racks my spine as he pushes his fingers through my hair. “I just needed some peace of mind. I promise this pain will go away—”

              The smile that pulls at his lips is riddled with obsession.

              “—when you’re ready to return my love.”

~~~~~

              The doorknob rattles violently without budging. Fists pound against the door, fear beginning to consume me—I don’t even know if he’s inside. Filled with torment and terror, I fall to my knees. Thoughts begin to race with the possibility that this might be how I die.

              The click sounds of tainted mercy. Gentle fingers tilt my gaze. Lavender eyes glimmer with adoration. A smile of pure love graces his lips. Vil is absolutely elated.

              It makes my skin crawl.

              “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.” There’s nothing in his voice but tenderness. “It took you much longer to seek me out this time.” He’s not even upset; he knew this would be the outcome.

              Another bout of coughing stabs my lungs with thorns, the pain so agonizing that I nearly pass out. Into my hand sprays crimson, but among the blood, something flutters past my lips. Ivory petals are stained by ruby droplets: a symptom I haven’t come across before.

              Vil, however, sounds pleased. “Why am I not surprised that something so pure would come from you even as you hurt so. Though I must admit—” A decisive thumb smears blood along my lips. Desire spreads across his face. “—that color looks breathtaking on you.”

              A hand reaches out, clenching at his jacket. I can’t speak past the thorns, so I beg him wordlessly.

              “Of course. Let me take away the pain.” His lips draw closer, but I have no strength left to take them. “Let me indulge you.”

              His kiss tastes of the cruelest salvation. He speaks and acts as my savior, but only because I’m here for his transgression—his obsession. This is the “love” I’m trapped in.

              Piercing thorns recede, the vines crawling back down my throat to free up my airway. A gasping cough breaks the kiss, spilling more blood across the carpet. Though there’s relief, the weakness washes over me and I collapse.

              “Oh sweetheart. Look at you, exhausted after fighting for so long.”

              Everything in me wants to writhe beneath his touch, but I can’t even lift a finger. With ease, I’m lifted from the floor, carried deeper into the villain’s den.

              “Don’t you worry, my darling. Just rest.”

              This is my life now: to be at Vil’s mercy while suffering this parasitic foliage in my lungs. I can only guess at how long he’ll put up with my resistance before letting me succumb to my curse. Until then, I can only struggle on, resisting the pain until it becomes too much to bear.

              Because this curse will only end when I love him.

              But could I ever love him?

              “You’re in my care now.”

[gryffindors-weasley]

For The Very First Time

Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius Black just might be more sentimental than you think when he takes you on a trip down memory lane.

Prompt used: “Sorry how do you spell that?”

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: mild angst, smoking, fluff, kissing

A/N: This is for @sweeterthansammy ’s 1k writing challenge! I hope you enjoy. Flash backs are italicized, and the prompt I used is bolded!

The weather was a little bit chillier now that the sun was dipping down in the sky, chilly enough for a sweater or a light jacket. Something you didn’t have much time to think about with the spontaneity of Sirius’ plans and just how urgent he’d been making them out to be. Really, there was no rush and he knew that, of course he knew that, but he was far too eager for his own good and you knew that.

You were certain he’d under dressed when you found him standing by the front door, leaning against the frame in that tattered old jean jacket. The one there’s no chance in him getting rid of, not in a million years. It’s got a myriad of holes here and there in the faded, washed out denim, the cuffs having seen better days as the frayed material dangles down half torn. A miscellaneous pin from James is still on there, even that bright yellow smiley face is stuck on the collar that you’d put there ages ago. It was more than a well worn article of clothing, that much was for sure.

You managed to break away from James and Lily’s conversation, more so Lily, and any other time you wouldn’t have minded a single bit. You absolutely wouldn’t have, but with Sirius calling you from the floor below in the small Potter home, you find yourself having no choice but to give in to saving the conversation for later in favor of quieting the raven haired wizard.

You walk down the stairs until equally tattered converse come into view, then those same old black denim jeans, the those frayed jean jacket cuffs. You smell the distinct smell, something that’d only further been confirmed as you reach the very last step.

“Either I’m a fool, or time just stopped,” he says, flicking the ashes from his cigarette as he smiled down at you.

The corner of your mouth quirks up, the kind of smile he knows isn’t a hundred percent sweet.

“I think you’re just a fool, Pads,” you say, that smile widening a fraction. There it is. He walked right into that one and he knew it, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t think Mr. Potter would approve of you smoking in his beloved family home.”

“Which is exactly why I’m standing outside,” he grins before bringing the cigarette back to his lips, throwing his hands up as he takes one step backwards through the threshold of the doorway just so he can officially say that he is in fact outside and not at all breaking the rules of the residence.

Sirius Black liked to bend the rules when he could, he liked to walk on the wild side just about every chance he got no matter how trivial it may be. He claims it’s the only way to be, claims that’s what having fun is all about and anything less is boring. Nonchalance is simply in his nature.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” you counter, hopping off the very last step when he tugged on your hand to urge you out the door.

He pulled the door shut behind him and stopped you in your tracks, making you turn on your heel before you could take another step forward. You look up at him with a narrowed gaze and await an explanation as to just why it is he’s gone and stopped you when all he’s done the past ten minutes is tell you how desperately he’d wanted to go. So you stand and your stare and you watch as smoke blows past parted lips, lips that quirk upwards in a smile as he looks at you.

In that moment, he dips down, pressing his lips on yours in a kiss that’s as smoky as ever and the gesture alone has your smile pressing into his kiss. A smile that’s genuine just as much as it’s teasing.

“I thought we had somewhere to be?” You say, breaking away as you look up at him with a raised brow.

“We do,” he says, taking another puff before you snag the cigarette right from between his fingers, dropping it to the little stone walkway before putting it out beneath your boot.

You take notice of his pursed lips that fight a smile, at the squinted gaze he’s got set on you as you spin on your heel and walk ahead, leaving him to stand there and stare after you for a fleeting moment or two. You’ve got all the amusement in the world sitting on your expression and he doesn’t even need to see it to know it, he can tell just by simply hearing the laugh fall from your lips. He can see it as he catches up to you within a second’s time.

“How very rude of you,” he says in faux offense, but it’s not too long before you feel the tips of his fingers brushing against yours.

“How very generous of me,” you counter, and his scoff doesn’t go unheard.

The next time you look up at him, he’s got those sunshine yellow shades on, those obnoxiously yellow sunglasses that sit on his nose seemingly more often than not. James had gotten them for him at the town fair just a few years back, a gift just for laughs that he’d gotten with the rest of his tickets. They were bright and they were bold and very much fitting for the year nineteen-eighty-one, but he’d gone and kept them. Of course he did.

Sirius Black kept every single thing his friends have ever given him no matter how ridiculous or trivial it may have seemed. Even when he was just a child still stuck in his dreaded family home, he’d saved a shoe box from a pair of dress shoes he absolutely hated wearing, one pair of dozens that inevitably got scuffed up just a little too much for the liking of his parents before they’d gone and bought him a new pair to look more presentable for the family image. Aside from that, he’d kept a shoe box, one that he had tucked under his bed.

Inside were all the letters that James and Remus had sent him by owl over summer break, each and every letter even if it was simply James complaining about some nonsensical thing or a joke or if it was Remus writing to see if he’d gotten his Hogwarts letter yet. He kept all of them. He kept the four leaf clover James had stumbled upon, and he kept that special quill Remus had swiped from Snape. He never knew his best friend had a knack for being mischievous until that moment.

He’d read those letters on his best nights and his worst, read them just for so. They were tattered and worn at the creases where they were folded, but he didn’t plan on getting rid of them any time soon.

Over the years that sentimental collection grew and grew, adding to it a myriad of pressed flowers and leaves from Lily, and bookmarks from Remus, postcards from James that were the absolute most ridiculous he could find. You added to it with miscellaneous letters and a guitar pick you thought he might like. He never used it, he didn’t want to ruin it. He kept that feather boa you’d found and even that lucky coin. He kept it all.

Sirius Black was more sentimental than he let on, he’s got a softer heart than he showcased to most, he kept every one of those things no matter how stupid or trivial it may seem to someone else. But he’d never in a million years admit it. James had found it once, but he never said a word about it.

“You never did tell me where we’re going,” you say, kicking a pebble out of your way as you walked along the cracked sidewalk.

“I believe that’s the point of a surprise, love,” he says, and you catch his smile as you look up at him, lips pursed as you nudge him with your elbow.

“You’re terrible at surprises,” you tease, your smile in your voice and had he not been wearing those sunglasses at sunset, you’d have been able to see his eye roll. But you knew him well enough to know he’d gone and done it regardless of the visual confirmation.

“Have I ever told you you’re a pain?” He asked, his chuckle following his words as he grins ahead, glancing down at you briefly.

“Yes, and I take that as a compliment,” you say, hearing his continued laughter as he shakes his head.

You try and put the pieces together, try and pick up any hints to put together any form of information that just might lead you in the direction of where you could possibly be going. It was in town, that you knew for certain. It was somewhere, local otherwise he’d have taken Mr. Potter’s car. The attire was no use in a giveaway because there was not a single chance there’d be an occasion where you’d find Sirius taking you somewhere in which you’d need to dress to the nines. The days of pristine suits and freshly polished shoes were far behind him, he hated dressing up with everything that he had.

He didn’t even dress up above and beyond for James and Lily’s wedding; well, he did, but he dressed down his suit with a half loosened tie that wound up being a headband and that tattered pair of converse. And he even wore those same old yellow sunglasses.

It was early evening, and things don’t tend to stay open for that much longer, so that narrows things down just a little bit more. Makes things just a little bit clearer, but it all proved to be not as helpful as you’d like it to be.

The small town was dotted with street lamps casting the area in a warm glow as it began to get darker and darker outside. The surrounding trees held reddening leaves that dropped and fluttered to the ground when the breeze sifted through them. And it’s only then that it hits you, the smell of coffee and spice that wafts through the air the closer you get. The sweetened air the closer you got. You even heard that familiar little clang of the bell over the door.

It wasn’t until then that you’d realized that maybe this was his surprise, that it absolutely was judging by the way he’d been biting the inside of his cheek to stifle his grin.

“Sirius Black, is this what I think it is?” You ask, your brow raised as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

Your question is answered when that smile breaks through, when you do indeed stop in front of the door to that ever familiar coffee shop and he holds the door open for you to step inside. It’s noticeably warmer than the chilly weather outside, cozier than ever as the smell of coffee washes over you. It looked just the same as when you were here last, felt just as inviting as it always did.

There were a few carved pumpkins sitting outside the door, an assortment of fall decorations littering inside the small shop. Each of the little wooden tables have cozy orange table cloths, and string lights are hung. The entirety of the shop smelled like fall festive drinks and what was left of the pumpkin rolls and muffins, not to mention the sweeter than sweet scented candles that were lit.

He tugged on your hand as he stepped up to the counter.

“Can I get a black coffee with two creams and a hot chocolate?” He asks, dropping your hand to dig around for his wallet in the pocket of his jacket.

That was another thing, Mr. Potter had gifted him that very same wallet a handful of years ago. It was a hand-me-down, but that was the least of his concerns when he was given the leather wallet. He didn’t care about the scratches or worn corners. That was the first real gift he’d ever gotten that had true thoughtfulness behind it.

He remembered your order like the back of his hand, and he’d gotten the same thing every single time.

The drinks were ready in no time and he put some money on the counter with a little extra for a tip, handing you yours as he headed towards that ever familiar table tucked away in the corner by the window.

He ran his hand through his hair, sitting those sunglasses back on the top of his head once more to push his hair out of his face. Your smile was fond as you looked at him, a stubborn chunk of black hair dipping over his forehead and brushing against the tip of his nose anyway.

“Remember this place, love?” He asks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“As if I’d ever forget,” you say, a laugh leaving your lips.

Of course you did, it was hard to forget the one and only place you’d met Sirius black in a few years back.

It was a hectic afternoon, customer after customer flooding into the coffee shop especially now that the fall season was sweeping in at last. Things were always busy around this time of year, things were always busy around this time of day, so you’d come to expect the rush hour by now after all this time you’ve worked there.

Things were fairly simple once you got the hang of it, once you were able to do things with a practiced ease and it made the line of customers a little bit easier to move along. Most of them you knew by name, most of them you knew their orders because they never failed to get the very same thing each and every day that they came in. Some of them came in every day, some of them came in every week, some of them even had a select day of the week that they stopped in for their usual order.

It was one of the things you liked about working there. The regular customers were friendly as ever and made the workload a little easier given the prior knowledge of just what they get and how they like it, and it makes the time fly just a little bit faster.

The day hadn’t been your finest, you’d gone and spilled half a cup of hot chocolate on your apron, one you didn’t have the time to swap out and you’re quite sure you’d still had a smear of flour on your face from catching up on baking that morning before opening time. But that clumsiness was only in your nature and it was everything you expected from yourself.

“Y/n, can you cover up front? There’s someone waiting.”

That clumsiness only heightened at the sight of a new face, one you don’t believe you’ve seen frequent the shop before. He’s got a mess of black hair he keeps tucking behind his ear, yellow sunglasses dangling from the collar of a Queen t-shirt as his gaze focuses out of the window to his left. He’s got a pack of cigarettes tucked in the front pocket of his jean jacket and pin on the other.

You quit your staring, you quit while you were ahead as you smoothed your coffee stained apron.

“What can I get for you today?” You ask, capturing his attention as he looks at you.

You swallow thickly as your gaze meets gray eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You take notice of the dimple in his chin and the strands of dark hair that dip down over his forehead as he leans against the counter.

“Just a black coffee with two creams, please,” he says.

“Your name?”

“Sirius.”

You nod with a smile as you snag a cup and the marker from your pocket, turning on your heel to head towards the coffee as you uncapped your marker before you very quickly made that realization and spun back around. In the process, you nearly tripped over your own two feet and you can feel the heat blossoming in your cheeks.

“Sorry, how do you spell that?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

You hear the softness of chuckle as he looks at you, surprisingly not out of mocking even with the way you just made a fool of yourself in front of him. He spelled it out for you with a smile, and you turned away without tripping this time. You made his drink just how he’d asked, your heart racing in your chest the entirety of the two minutes it took to make it as you thought about his smile.

You tried your best to stall, to steal a little bit more time before you had to go back to the counter to face him once more. To give yourself a little more time to let the heat in your cheeks cool off.

You pressed on the lid to his cup and took a breath, turning around and heading back to the counter where he stood leaning against it still.

“One coffee with two creams for Sirius,” you say, setting the to-go cup on the counter as he dug around his pocket for some money.

He counted it out in his palm as his hair fell in his eyes, quickly brushed away as he ran his hand through his hair and set the money down in exchange for his drink, and a little extra for a tip.

You notice the way his gaze lingers on you for a little bit longer, you notice it as the seconds pass and your heart races. It lingers on you and you can see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up as he does, spinning the cup in his hand out of an absentminded habit as his gray gaze finally meets yours.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, love,” he says, pointing to his own cheek as a signal for your own face.

Your hand shoots up immediately to swipe across your cheek, the heat in your face flooding back once more as you swipe your fingers across your skin, pulling back to see that dreaded flour on your face that you knew was bound to be there from that morning.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say with a laugh and a smile, his following soon after as he nods.

There’s a sort of tension that simmers as you meet his gaze once more, as it bounces to his smile and you’re not quite sure if time actually stopped or if this is some cliche moving moment happening to you in the middle of your shift, or neither and you’re just being ridiculous. That, it’s probably that one.

Either way, you find yourself interrupted by the ding of the bell to your side on the counter from a customer growing impatient, a call of your name sounding over your shoulder just behind you. It all brings you back to reality.

“Have a nice day, Sirius,” you say, watching as he nods.

“I’ll see you around.”

With that, he offers you that same smile that had your mind on it for a ridiculous amount of time, that smile that made your heart race, and he turned away and headed out that door with a little ding of the bell over the door. He headed down the sidewalk as he snagged a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it before he disappeared around the corner.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Sirius asks, grabbing your attention as he gazes at you over the rim of his cup, gray eyes full of amusement.

“About what?” You ask, playing into it with a half smile even though you know you’re bound to be met with a tease.

“That time you tripped over your own two feet. I mean, do I really have that effect on people, love?” He jest, feeling you kick his foot just under the table.

There it is.

“Must you be so cocky, Pads?” You ask, your gaze glimmering with amusement as you purse your lips.

“I’m afraid I must,” he says.

You roll your eyes as you sip on your drink, eyeing the smile forming on his lips. “What?”

He chuckles as he shakes his head, his gaze dropping down as he swirls his drink in his hands and bites the inside of his cheek. His stare is more amused than ever as he looks at you again, that same lingering gaze set on you in the very same way it had been all those years ago and you knew it couldn’t have meant anything good. If it was anything like that very first time, you were bound to feel your cheeks grow hot even though you’ve known the troublemaker for years.

He doesn’t say anything at first, quiet as he lifts his hand and swipes it across the top of your lip and all the way to the corner of your mouth. He’s just as amused as he wipes away some hot chocolate that’s been left behind from your sip, his chuckle immediate.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, love,” he says, and you hear that teasing tone in his voice that he’s always got, that mischief dancing in his eyes.

“I truly think it’s you that’s the pain,” you huff, biting back your smile.

He chuckles. “‘S that so?”

You nod as you smile at him. “Very much so.”

He bites his lip momentarily as he looks at you, that pesky chunk of his hair falling back down in his face. “I take that as a compliment.”

He used your earlier words, of course he did, that’s just how Sirius Black is. Taunting and teasing in the most lighthearted of ways and that’s something that’s always been so, that’s something that always will be so forever and ever.

He’s got the tip of the arm of his sunglasses between his teeth, having given up on using them to hold back his hair as he looks around the little coffee shop where it all began, as he looks out the window at passers by, the corner of his mouth quirking up when he feels your gaze on him. It widens a fraction as he feels you get up, feels you swing around the edge of the table to take a seat in the booth bench next to him rather than sit across from him.

You’re quiet for a few moments as you rest your head on his shoulder. The foot traffic in the shop was dwindling as it neared closing time, growing less and less busy until it was starting to become just the two of you there. But you weren’t so focused on the details, not when you’ve been in your own little world with the one stealing your attention right next to you as you sat in your usual booth in the corner.

This was it, this was where it all began, this was where you’d met the chaos that is Sirius Black. The chaos that’s brought nothing but good into your life, nothing but a thrilling excitement that only he could bring.

You lift your head and look up at him, his gaze falling on you within a moment’s time. You see that smile, that smile that makes your heart race a mile a minute. You see it and you mirror it as you look at him. It’s only a matter of seconds before you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet and tasting of hot chocolate and coffee and a little bit of that smoke that never quite left his lips.

You kiss him before you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling his eyes on you. You take a sip as you stifle your smile, the arm of his glasses between his teeth once more as that smile he’s got remains as you look at him. You smile when you look away, head shaking as you nudge his foot with yours.

This is where it all began a handful of years ago. This is where you met Sirius Black for the very first time.

—

Tags: @nancybycrs @pogueslandia @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @writeroutoftime @awritingtree @lilypad-55449 @medalloway-blog @vicouscirce @mon4907 @violetrainbow412-blog

[gav-san]

The Queen of the King 4/15

Previous / Next

Morning sunlight beamed brightly upon the king of the Gerudo, and he could help marvel at how soft it was. The desert sun seemed to burst upon the sand like a fire, appearing and causing every beetle and beast to find a patch of sweet relief in the rare sliver of shade.

Here the light was softer, even quieter. The blue in the sky was stronger, and clouds rose thick with swells and fluff. He hoped that he could experience at least one heavy storm in the Hylian castle, to engrave the majesty of thunder and lightning in his brain. Once he returned to Gerudo town, there would be little rain, and even less green to be found.

Flanked by two guards, Ganondorf thought his march to the castle may seem less intimidating, but at the look of the residents who he passed through Castletown, it seems that it may have been in vain.

Hylians openly gave him a double-take as he entered his view, those not seeing him flinching if he passed close by, as if his near presence threatened their lives. And no amount of wishing or reassurances would stop whispers of old tales passed around to children of the old goddesses and the curse of the Gerudo. It seems that despite Hyrule’s short memories, their wariness of him was embedded deep in their bones.

Ganondorf wondered if any of those things knew the real stories.

Not that it mattered this time.

This time, there was hope. For both he, and these unfortunate Hylians.

One, in exchange for thousands, he thought, would be a fitting price.

After all, the Gerudo King always stole his bride, and willingness was never a factor, merely a bonus. The desert hardly boasted a proud reputation of ease and familiarity, and few foreigners could see its true value.

But he felt the Hylian King, perhaps, would see the worth of peace.

One daughter.

A lifetime of peace.

---XXX---

“Princess! He’s coming!”

You grumble into your pillow, smooshing your face deeper into the silk.

“I don’t wanna... see the prince... of Termina. He smells like old cheese… and likes to pinch my armmm…..”

Tapo, the unfortunate woman chosen to be your morning chambermaid spared little attention to your nighttime muttering as she rushed to your bed.

“Princess!” She says shrilly, enough to wave you from your doze.

“Uh?” You mumble drool pooling down your chin, hair looking like a pile of hay the pigs had found.

“The Gerudo King!” Tapo declares, hands clasping one another as she makes a dramatic pose, “IS HERE!”

“HERE?”

“HERE!”

“ALREADY!”

“YES MY LADY!”

“CALL THE CAVALRY!” You cry, and two more attendants rush in as you jump from the bed. The one bearing breakfast is nearly knocked off her feet as you push her aside, barely managing to catch herself on the bedside table.

“NO TIME! JUST DRESS ME!”

The other attempts to help Tapo dress you, but she pushes the young girl away, hissing at her lack of expertise.

And indeed, a day early, the King was here, and you were not emotionally prepared. Nor had you finished all the details of the room he was staying in.

Oh, goddess, the king would make snide comments for a year if the Gerudo King complained about his attendants trying to help him dress.

The moment the last silk slipper was slipped over your embroidered silk stockings you rushed out the door, leaving behind the two attendants. Tapo was able to keep up, but only just, doing her best to straighten any slight thread or hair that attempted to mutiny her fair design. After all, she had spared no effort in preparing a gorgeous gown for the occasion.

You looked much like a fairy queen in your creamy white gown, delicate silver flowers embroidered with white pearls. Chiffon fluttered around your legs, and your elegant, practiced dash made you look as if you were floating. With your bright, royal hair done up with flowers and slightly jeweled tiara, you would not be taken for a child again. And by the sounds of the courtiers and guards you passed, you knew that you would not be.

You raced across the machicolation that connected the women's apartments to the curtain wall, dashing down the first parapet walk in order to gaze out the large windows adjacent to the gatehouse, below the brattice.

There, shaded by height and the bright morning lights, you placed your hands against the cool stone and leaned forward expectantly. The cool wind blew a curl of your hair as you did, and Tapo yelled at the dangerous motion.

Your eyes burned a moment to the bright lights below, taking a moment to adjust.

Finally, he was here. The one who had caused all of your headaches and late nights, and who even seemed to haunt your nightmares.

The star of this show.

The king of the Gerudo.

And then, you caught your first glimpse of him.

And your heart jumped into your throat.

.

.

.

Experience has led you to know that the average Gerudo woman was thicker than the royal cook’s oatmeal. Like, even thicker than one baked into a cookie with chunks of chocolate.

But you hadn’t realized that it extended to their men.

Before all this, you hadn’t even realized the Gerudo Tribe had men before this whole debacle, much less that he could be the Gerudo king. But the recent weeks had both piqued your interest and caught you wondering more and more about what he would be like.

And there’s no other race he could be with the bright red-orange red mane tumbling down his back, laced with gold and jewels. He also wore the same strong features as his kind, including a sharp jaw and nose.

This man.

This beast.

The King of the Gerudo.

He’s thick , more solid than some of the trees lining the garden path, and you can tell because his shirt is missing.

Bronze skin shimmers in the light, so much revealed you almost choke at the indecency of his garb. It was clearly mere adornment for the cords of muscles that flex as he moves. Thick hair covers his body, twisting over his chest, down over his abdomen, and disappearing under the robes and belt that drape over his midsection.

Not that you’re staring or anything.

If all that wasn’t proof enough of his origin, his height dwarfed the nearest soldier by a good foot. He was giant, probably over seven feet!

You are unable to deny he was a magnificent sight.

And it strikes a chord of uncomfortable terror in you. Your own words, a prophecy that threatened to strangle you.

The words catch in your throat.

You shake your head.

No!

You reminded yourself viciously, the stone facade cutting into your hands. Surely, you have proven your great worth to your uncle. He would never let his own blood mixed with someone such as this-

Your heart beats fast.

...

This tall, swarthy beast of a man.

You are a mere slip of a being next to him, and the implication that there was a man in the world overwhelmingly suited for your tastes is a tad thrilling.

No matter, you think, there is no reason to think too hard about the matter.

Your stomach felt strange as he shifted his weight, head-turning to take in the lavish gardens of the inner court.

You don’t stop watching them. And you don’t bother hiding as he looks towards your window perch, knowing the shadowed windows should hide you from his eyes. But now, in this gown, you can’t help feel revealed, unready he turns.

You knew from his reputation that they were a startling color, but you wondered if it was your imagination, or if they were such a clear amber, clear and intelligent as he paused to look over. It shouldn’t be possible, at this height, to see the color of someone’s eyes.

Your shoulders stiffened as his eyes connected with yours.

His lips twitched as you blinked, your mind racing in disbelief.

No, surely not, the window was too dark for him to see in! There was no way he could see you, so you're not sure why you feel so alarmed.

Perhaps there was a bird or something he was looking at?

You glance to see what he could be looking at, but on his return, he is still looking your way.

A shudder runs down your spine, an unpleasant, revolting feeling of uncloaking. It makes you feel unsafe, unsure, and helpless.

You have no doubt you would be like a bunny compared to his height. A normal woman, no, a normal Gerudo might break in half, trying to please a man that large.

He would pulverize your hips if he tried-

You near choke, tilting your head away.

What were you thinking?

Appalled, and ill at ease, you step back, putting a hand to your cheeks. They’re hot, oh so hot, and have you ever blushed so hard that it stung before?

You can swear you see him smirk and it’s almost disturbing that you don’t find him ugly and disgusting.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until Tapo touches your shoulder, and you jump out of your skin, much like a cat.

Frantic, you nervously give her a sharp look and she apologizes.

You twist back, but the Gerudo is no longer looking up.

One of his guards, a very tall Gerudo woman, is saying something to him, but they are too far away for you to hear.

Freed from his attention, you reel back away from the window, fleeing from the room and the heavy beating of your heart. You ignore the catcalls from some of the ruder guards, and even some concerned calls from the nicer ones. Tapo calls to you, worried, her voice strained, wondering if she had upset you so.

After reassuring her that she is fine and that you are just feeling a bit unwell, you decide that perhaps you should stay in your quarters, deep within the princess’s wing.

Feigning sickness you refuse your Uncle’s call, saying that you are unwell.

And though you heavily avoided the Gerudo envoy and the entire wing of the castle they were staying in, you felt like golden eyes were following you the rest of the day.

And you were missed.

---XXX---

Arranged in her temporary rooms, Ganondorf sat leisurely on a large, thick chair, one that was indeed specially made for his frame. He knew this, because he knew, much like how the trappings and meals and manners of the servants suited his tastes.

“She listened.” Naboroou said in Gerudan, a gleam in her eyes. “And took notes. Dinah has been keeping watch over her, and training her. She’s just as you remembered.”

The king leaned back, arms folded and a pleased smile on his face.

“Yes. Without a doubt.” He declared, waving a hand. “The king was also more flexible to our request than expected.”

Naboroou put an arm to her chest, as did the other guards.

“When shall we commence?”

Ganondorf looked out the window, to the large moon hanging pearlescent in the sky.

“Let’s try her mettle. I am curious to see her in action.”

“As you wish, my king.”

[luffles424]

Sunrise

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: angst, fluff, smut, angst with a happy end, post breakup au, actor!seokjin, fashion designer!reader, exes to lovers

☼ Count: 9.5K

☼ Warnings: 18+, accusations of cheating, poor communication, some arguments (the relationship at the end can be seen as turning toxic as communication breaks down, so be aware if you think that may now work for you or just need to be prepared), heartbreak, non-explicit description of panic attack, moments of emotional shut down

Smut warnings: teasing, soft sex, nipple play, body worship, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (stay safe pls!), dirty talk, exhibitionism, bratty reader, rough sex, manhandling, bruising

☼ Summary: It’s been well over 10 years since you and Seokjin broke up. You’ve been doing fine. Until one night a dream rocks you to the core and you find yourself in a place from the past. Have you really moved on?

Has he?

☼  Newly added epilogue: Moonlight

☼ a/n: This is told both in the present and past, the flashbacks are in italics! The flashbacks also aren’t in order, but I believe they’re pretty easy to follow when they would fall chronologically.

Inspired by the 2000s emo playlist I listened to as work (especially Jamie All Over by Mayday Parade) Sorry if the tags seem a little scary, I’d rather overtag than have someone get blindsided while reading. But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

The cool breeze washes over you, bathing you in the salty ocean air. It seems you found the perfect time to come out here. The light jacket you wore more than enough to keep you warm on such an unexpected trip. The sky is slowly being painted in pinks and purples and oranges as the sun slowly starts to sink into the horizon, small wisps of fluffy, white clouds occasionally obscuring the sunlight. You’ve always loved seeing the sunset out here. The colors reflecting off the ocean and leaving everchanging patterns before you. You’ve based plenty of designs on sunsets. 

The dress you wore to your first fashion week is still your favorite. The penultimate meeting of sunset and night sky. The outside was ombre layers of soft chiffon, shades of oranges and pinks and small bands of light purples. It pooled around your feet, you liked to think it made it seem like you had risen from the waters of a sunset reflection. The halter bodice wrapped around your neck in a shimmery, golden band. Hanging from the choker were thin golden chains, draped and connected to a golden belt at your waist. 

For all appearances, it appeared like just a sunset colored dress. But when you walked, or pulled the fabric apart at the slit in the front, it revealed a glittering deep purple fabric, speckled like a swirling galaxy. It had been the ultimate combination of the theme of yours and Hoseok’s collection, sun and moon. The dress still hangs in your closet, one of the few extravagant pieces you’ve held on too. You want to wear it again, you just have to find an occasion to do so. The dress deserves it. 

The scene before you specifically was what inspired it. Maybe not this spot specifically. There were a lot of memories tied to this spot that you tried not to think about typically. But you’ve always loved visiting the beach. Or lakes. Anywhere you could go and watch the sun sink into the water. Watch an uninterrupted sky blend colorfully with the water.

You can’t believe you’re back here though. It’s been easily more than 10 years since the last time you were at this beach, which is a drastic change from back then from when you came here all the time. Taking a seat on the bench beside you, you smile, a little sadly, as your fingers trace over the heart carved into the wood, weathered from years in the elements and use. But the letters are still clear enough and you skip over your initials, letting your fingertips trace the ‘ksj’ as you think on when they were put there. 

 The smile on his face is bright, as bright as the glint of sunlight off the small pocket knife in his hand. 

Your combined giggles fill the fresh spring air, the beach fairly deserted since you skipped your last two periods of school to come here. You hadn’t put up much of a fight when he made the suggestion during lunch. Your grades are good enough and it’s the last weeks of high school, you can miss a few class periods to have some fun, to spend some time together before university. Just in case you don’t get into the same one.

The scratch of the blade against the wood is softer than you expect, a gentle scratch, scratch, scratch as he meticulously and carefully carves your names into the wood. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and you fight the urge to coo at how cute he is. Doubling down on keeping quiet when you know doing so would also result in him being overly macho to prove he wasn’t cute. Not because he doesn’t believe he’s cute or anything, but he knows how much the faux display makes you laugh. You don’t want to interrupt his work when this seems so important to him.  

Finally he looks up from his work, proudly gesturing to the carving on the bench. 

“That’s so cheesy.”

With an exaggerated pout, he gives you the saddest eyes he can muster. “I worked so hard on this for you. As a testament to our love!”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his jutted lower lip. “Well, I didn’t know it was so serious. My apologies.”

 A few more kisses and he’d promptly forgiven you and the two of you had spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach, taking blurry pictures on your flip phones. You’re positive that a printed version of one of those photos still lives in a box somewhere, where you didn’t have the heart to throw it away and so it’s stayed in a box of memories that moves with you but you never really look through. 

 You’re so tired when you finally get home. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You’ve spent more time either in the studio or with Jimin or Hoseok or at work than you have here. And you know from the times that you are here that Seokjin is gone just as often as you. It doesn’t even feel like you’re in a relationship anymore. It hurts to think about that. 

So you’d thought summer would be the perfect time for the two of you to rekindle your relationship. Fix whatever problems you were having, free from the stress of finals. But with senior year quickly approaching, everything seems to have just gotten worse. You can never seem to catch Seokjin to start the process of fixing anything. 

To your surprise, when you open the door you find Seokjin sitting on the bed, face pinched as he stares at something on his phone. Maybe this will finally be the opportunity to talk and start fixing things. You miss him, body cold and numb the nights you fall asleep here alone, always waiting and waking up disappointed. 

Before you can say anything, his head lifts and the cold glare he sends you stops you in your tracks. What could possibly have happened to make him give you that look? You know the two of you have been having some problems, but nothing that would warrant that look.

“Where the hell were you?” His tone is as icy as his eyes. 

You frown, gesturing vaguely towards the fridge. “Work. I put my schedule up so you knew.” He didn’t have the same courtesy. You never knew when he was working. Or what else he was doing when he was out. You had put yours up in hopes that he would do the same and maybe you would be able to find time to be together. Though you’re not sure he even bothered to go near the fridge. The few times you’ve made dinner for him and left the leftovers in the fridge with a note went untouched. 

He sneers and holds his phone out towards you. You have to step closer to get a good look at the image he has pulled up. It’s from just a few hours ago. You and Jimin sat at one of the cafe tables and laughing. It had been your break and Jimin came in to keep you company. Had Seokjin come by the cafe? Why hadn’t he come in? If he’d been there when this was taken, you were on break, you could’ve spent it together. 

“Then what’s this? Certainly doesn’t look like work to me.”

Your mind blanks. Is he seriously accusing you of lying right now? Indignation rises, acid burning in your throat. “What are you saying? If you were there why didn’t you come in? I would have loved to see you.”

“I wasn’t there. A friend sent this. And I’m saying that you’re never around. And I keep getting people telling me they see you out with him all the time. I haven’t seen you in weeks. But it seems like he sees you every day.”

He can’t seriously be accusing you of cheating right now. This seriously can’t be happening right now. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the accusation. It hurts that he’d honestly think you’d do that. Then the ugly thoughts come. What’s that saying, those who are most guilty are the quickest to throw blame at others?

“First of all,” you grit out, trying your best to keep your tone even. You can feel the rage churning in your belly. “I was on break when that was taken. Jimin came to visit because he knew someone wasn’t going to.” Seokjin’s mouth opens to speak but you continue, voice raising. He is not going to get to cut you off now. “It’s awfully fucking rich for you to accuse me when you have no evidence. You’re never even around. You know what they say, it’s never the one being blamed but the one doing the blaming.”

He scoffs and stands. In his anger, he seems to tower over you. But you’re too angry and indignant yourself for it to feel intimidating. You stare him down. 

“You’re really going to accuse me now?”

“It’s the same thing you’re doing! I was hoping to fucking talk when I saw you were home. I was so happy to see you here. We haven’t been home together in so long. I-”

“We haven’t been home together because you’re always out with Jimin.” 

“No I haven’t been fucking home because you’re never home and it fucking hurts to be in this shitty apartment without the person who’s supposed to be here with me. Do you know how fucking lonely it is waiting around here for a person who never shows up?”

Turning away from you, he takes a few deep breaths. 

You deflate slightly. You could still fix this. “Seokjin-”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hear any more excuses.”

He moves towards the door and you panic. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You wanted to fix things. To make them better. Everything has spiraled and you can’t let him slip through your fingers. You reach for his wrist.

“Seokjin, wait-”

He wretches his hand free and glances at you over his shoulder with so much contempt that you feel your heart in your throat. “No. I’m done.”

This can’t be it. This really can’t be it. He sees you about to speak again and turns and leaves before you can get a word out and it feels like the rug has been ripped out from beneath you. The silence deafening in his absence. 

You don’t know how long you stand there for. You feel completely numb. Like this is just a bad dream and you’ll wake up soon and Seokjin will be next to you and you’ll tell him about this and he’ll laugh and comfort you and tell you that would never happen. You expect tears, but they never come. Everything feels so surreal. 

The man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with just walked out on you after accusing you of cheating. 5 years and he really thought that was something you would do. Do you wait around? Hope he comes back for you both to talk with calmer minds. 

You settle for a text.

You: Can we talk once we’ve both calmed down?

It’s less than a second later and the response makes your heart sink. Blocked. 

He really blocked you already. He’s not even going to try? You sink onto the bed. What are you supposed to do now?

At some point, mechanically, you text Jimin, asking if he could come over and bring some boxes. Looking around, you’re at least grateful that your place was small because it means you don’t have that much to try to move. Jimin arrives, faster than you expected. Or maybe you’ve just become that disconnected from the passage of time. 

He drops the boxes and comes up to you, hands fretting over you like there’s some physical injury he can attend to. Unless he knows how to mend a broken heart, his fretting is useless. Instead you move on autopilot, taking the boxes Jimin brought and packing your meager possessions into them. Jimin stands by the kitchen, looking sad and lost, unable to help because you have yet to say a word. He knows what happened though. It’s not hard to figure out. You’re thankful that he doesn’t try to get you to talk. Just lets you move and do what you need. Waits for you to ask should you need help. 

You’re almost finished packing when you pull the shoebox from under the bed and you suddenly feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Flipping the lid open reveals hundreds of photos. Of friends. Of family. Of trips. Of Seokjin. The top pictures pull your attention. Two copies of the same photo. A blurry snapshot of you two grinning on the beach. You both look so young and happy. You wish you could go back to that. Everything was so simple back then. 

He must have put his copy in with yours. Because why would they need to be kept in different places when the two of you would never be apart. You almost want to laugh. You mostly want to cry. You stand with the box, debate for all of two seconds before you set his copy down on the bed. He can decide what to do with his own copy. That’s not for you to decide. Not anymore. 

Tucking the shoebox into the last of the moving boxes, you cast one last look around the apartment. The holes where your things were hurt to see. The physical evidence that this part of your life is over. Carefully extracted from a life that had been so delicately intertwined. You wonder if the gaps will even bother Seokjin. If he’ll even bother staying here, if he’ll move onto something bigger and better. Without you. Swallowing, you turn to Jimin before those thoughts can spiral. Not here. Not yet. Once you’re somewhere else and alone. Then it can all come out.

“Ready?”

You give a small nod and Jimin helps take your things downstairs. He does most of the work while you wait on the sidewalk. He calls a taxi, loads your things into, gives the driver his address. 

As it pulls away from the curb, you can’t help but to watch the apartment shrink into the distance. Feeling like you left your heart behind. You wonder if you’ll ever get it back.

 Your phone dings with a notification, dragging you out of the sad memories. You give yourself a small shake. You hadn’t thought about that day in years, pushing it to the back of your mind. You had learned later on that some girls had told Seokjin lies about you to get the two of you to break up in a bid for his attention. It had backfired spectacularly because you found out through Hoseok after he overheard Seokjin yelling at the girl who asked him out less than a week after the break up. He never came to talk to you after the truth came out though. You never let yourself think too hard about why that might be. You’d already spent too many nights feeling numb and broken. You poured yourself into your work. Your friends. You had been content for your senior year. It didn’t go how you were expecting, but it was still good.

You smile at the device in your hand. It’s far more advanced than your old flip phones had been, even your college phone had been fairly low tech, the downsides of living on a budget. High school you would have killed for a camera this good back then. That blurry picture of you and Seokjin would’ve been much more clear if you’d had something like this back then. You swipe the notification away, just an email from your assistant about your schedule for tomorrow and what had been shifted around from today. But all that can wait until later, probably when you’re back home. The notification draws your attention to a text from Hoseok that you hadn’t seen though. He must have messaged while you were walking so you didn’t feel your phone go off. 

Hobihobi: Are you ok?

You smile at his concern. And honestly the fact that he even noticed you dipped out of the studio early. You had thought that he had been too busy on his own upcoming project to notice. It’s a pretty big deal for your label and he’s been working so hard to get this project. You’re just glad you have the perk of being boss to be able to dip when you need to. Although technically, you and Hoseok own your label, Daydream Designs, together. 

Texting him a quick reassurance, you pocket the device again, content to just enjoy the sunset out here alone. There’s a few people scattered around the beach. A few families beginning to pack up for the evening, a person running with their dog, a couple walking along the shoreline. 

You have such fond memories of this beach. For all the bad memories you have of the relationship, mostly from the end of it, at least the beach remains untainted.

 Nervously clutching the letter in your hand, your leg bounces as you wait for Seokjin to arrive. He’d texted you earlier that he’d gotten a letter from SNU. You’d rushed home to see you had a letter waiting as well. You were thankful that they had come on the same day. You can’t imagine how much more anxiety you’d have if you’d had to wait longer for one of your letters to arrive. 

You glance at the white envelope, the edges are beginning to wrinkle from your grip, but you can’t get your fingers to relax. Checking your phone again, you wonder where Seokjin is. He should be here soon. The beach is crowded today. The weather finally nice enough and the water clear and warm. It was a miracle that you’d managed to get your bench when you’d arrived. But someone had just been leaving when you’d gotten here and you’d quickly jogged over to take it before someone else could snatch it. It seemed like the perfect place to see what your future held.  

Seokjin appears suddenly, panting like he ran the whole way here. Which, given the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead, is a good possibility. He still looks handsome, more so when he sends you a brilliant grin.

“You got our bench!”

Returning his smile, you send him a wink. “I had to fight an old lady for it.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips as he sits down, brandishing his letter. “How do you want to do this?”

Chewing your lip, you think it over. “I don’t think I can open it.”

His eyes soften and he takes your hand. He can read you so well. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “How about we open each other’s?”

Reluctantly, you nod. Would it really be better to see that he got in while still not knowing if you got in too? Swapping letters, you stare down at his name spelled out in ink. You know he got in. There’s no way he didn’t. Seokjin nudges you and you look up.

“Count of three?” You nod. “Okay… 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Seokjin is a little faster in tearing open the envelope than you are but you keep your gaze firmly downcast, watching as your fingers tear open the paper with meticulous care. You skim his letter quickly. 

Congratulations.

He got in. Joy swells in you and you look up with a grin, momentarily forgetting your own letter. Your smile quickly falters though when you see the flat look on Seokjin’s face as he stares down at your letter and your heart sinks.

Tugging his hand to get his attention, you give him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s okay. You said-”

“You got in.”

You blink. His words swirling around your head but not fully registering. “What?”

He envelops you in a massive hug, laughing with joy. “You got in! Baby, you did it!”

You still feel a little dumbfounded, but you’re quickly filling with excitement. “You too! Jinnie, you got in too!”

He pulls back and presses a long kiss to your lips. His eyes look suspiciously wet, but you decide not to comment. You’re positive that your’s are probably a little wet too. “The next four years are going to be amazing.”

 He had been so optimistic back then. You could use some of that optimism now. 

You hadn’t originally planned on cutting out of work early, especially not to come here of all places. There were some designs that you needed to work on, a few ideas that you had that you wanted to get sketched up to show to Hoseok. But when you’d been walking through the common area during lunch, you’d overheard a couple of people gathered around a computer gushing about the Kim Seokjin wearing one of Hoseok’s designs. 

It’s definitely not the first time. Hoseok knew Seokjin in university when you knew him too, although you were always closer to him since you shared a lot of classes, and obviously a shared love of fashion. But the two were friendly and remained so afterward, but on a more acquaintanceship basis. The break up clearly divided some friendships, though you hated that it happened. You didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to stop being friends with either of you just because you two were no longer dating. 

You know it’s not the first time Hoseok has designed something for Seokjin. And normally, him wearing one of Hoseok’s designs wouldn’t bother you too much. Both because it’s good for Hoseok because Hoseok is a genius and deserves it, but because it’s also really good for your label in general in terms of good press. Though you know Hoseok sometimes slips your designs into things that get sent to him. You saw one of your jackets ended up at an award show. 

Idle chatter about Seokjin around the office isn’t that new. You suppose that’s one of the downsides to being in an industry that is very closely tied to idols and actors and actresses. It’s not an uncommon occurrence to hear them gossip about him, he’s one of the most popular drama actors currently and everyone loves to gush about how handsome and funny he is. They find it odd that you’ll talk about anyone with them except him. They leave it be much easier now, but in the beginning they still tried to include you. 

You’ve even dealt easily with the dating rumors. All the pretty actresses he’s supposedly dating. And why wouldn’t he? He’s gorgeous and talented and so, so kind. Any woman would be lucky to have him. You’ve been on the receiving end of his love. You know how easy it is to fall.

If your coworkers knew that you’d dated him in the past, they would think you were crazy to let him go. And maybe be a little jealous and probably pepper you with questions about him. You definitely are thankful they don’t know because the way some of them gossip about their own sex lives, they’d beg for details about a celebrity’s from first hand experience. 

 Excitement fills you as you sit in the airport. It’s finally summer. Your first year of college is behind you and you now get to spend two whole weeks with Seokjin in Jeju. Well Seokjin and his family. But they were kind enough to let the two of you have your own little place on the island. Well it was more of just the guest house to the main house they, along with Seokjin’s brother, would be staying at. 

This will likely be the only big summer trip you both take during college. Seokjin had originally planned to not go. More content to work all summer and save up money so the two of you could get an apartment off campus. His parents had offered to pay for a place, but Seokjin was adamant that the two of you wanted to do this for yourselves. 

You’d try to hide your disappointment about not going, but he knows you far too well and caved quickly to saying one trip wouldn’t hurt his independence. So now here you were, ready to fly out to Jeju. You haven’t been since you were little and you were excited that you got to go back and this time with Seokjin. 

The flight is quick and uneventful and Seokjin gets a taxi to take you to the beach house, his parents having arrived a few days prior. 

The main house is beautiful, but you’re more excited to see where you’ll be staying. The outside of the guest house looks like a miniature version of the main one. Inside, it’s spacious, all one room with an attached bathroom. The bed is separated from the living area by an ornate partition painted with a starry nightscape. The moon is painted in such gorgeous detail that you’re tempted to tell Seokjin you want to steal the partition when you leave. 

The living area is simple, a plush sofa and matching chair set facing a wall mounted TV. A small, well-stocked minibar is pressed against one wall. Around the partition and into the sleeping area is a large bed facing a set of french doors that open out onto a small deck that leads right down to the beach in two steps. 

Flopping onto the bed with a giddy giggle, you watch as Seokjin sets his bag down and gives you a fond smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

You squirm back slightly, coy smile stretching your lips. “I don’t know. The bed seems kind of empty.”

He chuckles, sitting on the bed and tugging you into his lap. “Better?”

Humming, you press a kiss to his lips. “Much.”

When you go to pull away, he follows, capturing your lips in another, deeper kiss. “We don’t… have… a lot of time…” he murmurs between kisses. 

You give a vague affirmative, only half listening to his words in favor of pressing him back into the mattress. His parents can wait, you have some important business first.

 The night air is cool, the french doors left open, gauzy curtains shifting in the gentle breeze. Shifting onto his side, Seokjin presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, soft and unhurried. It’s only been a couple of days since you’ve been here. But it’s been utter bliss, especially after the exhaustion from finals. 

You nudge the sheet lower down your bodies and press closer to him. Tonight seems like the perfect time for something soft and unhurried. A perfect time to really connect again. No hurrying because of classes, or roommates, or meetings. No papers to worry about. 

Just you and Seokjin. In a plush bed with a cool, ocean breeze enveloping you. If you peek through the curtains, you can just make out the shape of the moon, the illumination making Seokjin glow before you. 

He’s already bared to you. Both of you showering off the ocean water from an evening dip and simply crawling into bed together afterwards. The TV is off, the only sounds filling the room is the rustle of the sheets as you move and the lapping of the waves on the shore. You dare not speak and break the peaceful atmosphere and Seokjin seems to be on the same wavelength. 

Neither of you need to speak to know how to move around each other here. He cups your face, such a gentle caress, like you’re the most fragile and beautiful thing he’s ever held. It makes you feel cherished. He leans closer and time seems to slow down with the press of his plush lips to yours. He takes his time kissing you, so slowly like you have the rest of eternity for just this moment. 

Pushing you onto your back, Seokjin cages you in, enveloping you in the safe blanket of his embrace. His scent is overwhelming like this, you could drown in it. His hips press into yours, cock not fully hard yet, but that doesn’t matter. This is about taking your time with each other. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands sliding from his neck up into his hair.

The strands are a little dried out, a combination of the salty ocean water and the fresh bleaching it got. His parents hated it at first, but he defended it as just college experimentation. It’s supposed to be a time of discovery and why not try different hair colors. He’s unfairly attractive with the bleach blonde, just as handsome as his natural brunette. You know he plans to dye it another color. But he’s yet to tell you what it’ll be. 

You give his hair a light tug, relishing the sigh he releases against your lips. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“Just you.”

“You always have me.”

Seokjin nudges your thighs apart as he kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Trailing across your collarbones, he leaves a line nips down to your sternum. His hands slide up your sides till they meet your breasts, fingers cupping the soft flesh as he peppers kisses across the expanse of your chest. He traces one nipple with his tongue, teasing the bud to stiffness with each swipe. He moves on to the other one, changing it up and using his teeth this time. The air fills with your soft moans, blending with the waves outside. 

Moving lower, Seokjin kisses your belly, taking his time to touch every little mark across your skin. Pleasure simmers in your belly, every nerve burns like a live wire. Over all that, you feel loved. Absolutely worshiped as Seokjin presses a kiss to your mound with such reverence that you think he might convert right here and now. 

Seokjin eats you out just as slowly and thoroughly as he kissed you. He savors you with each swipe of his tongue, every suck, every twist of his fingers. Seokjin plays your pleasure like a fine-tuned instrument, drawing you ever so slowly to the edge. Your fingers thread through his hair once more, not to be demanding, but for the sake of feeling grounded. His tongue laps at you like you’re a ten course meal and he wants to savor every single morsel. When you chance a glance down at him, his eyes are closed, handsome face, what you can see of it at least, smoothed out in utter bliss. 

When you finally cum, it feels like sinking into pure euphoria. Seokjin drags it out for so long and so gently that you cum a second time. Though you’re so lost in sensation that maybe it’s still the first orgasm.

Pushing himself to his knees, his face glistens with your slick and you feel bereft with the distance suddenly between you. You reach out for him and he falls right into you, lips crashing against yours as his cock presses against your pussy. But you need more than that and you squirm, drawing a chuckle from deep in his chest. 

“Impatient…” he murmurs.

But despite his teasing, he shifts until the tip of his cock catches your hole and he slides in with languid push. You sigh his name and he answers with a nod, lips brushing your neck as he pulls back and starts a slow, almost lazy, rhythm. You cling to him, nearly delirious with pleasure. 

Nudging Seokjin, you pull him in for a kiss of your own. “I love you.”

He groans into your mouth. “Fuck… I love you too. So much.”

You lose track of time, your pace unhurried. Seokjin cums at some point and the two of you lay facing each other and exchanging soft kisses until you drift off to sleep. 

 You whine as Seokjin slips his cock into you. He’s been teasing you all day on the beach. At one point while you were in the water with him, his fingers slipped beneath your suit to tease along your pussy. You’d nearly screamed at the sudden sensation, but Seokjin had merely laughed and floated out of your reach, sending you a wink as he licked his finger. The second you returned to your room from dinner he was on you. This is so different from the other night. Somewhere in between the rushed couplings in the dorms and the slow, soft sex from then. It feels just as good, a little rough, fun, light. Perfect.

Seokjin grins cockily above you. “I barely did anything and you’re so wet for me, baby.”

Huffing, you try to kick at him, but he easily pins your leg down. He tuts and delivers a thrust that jostles you up the bed and draws a gasp from you. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. 

Before you can formulate any other sort of retaliation, the sound of voices catches your attention. Glancing to the side shows that neither of you shut the french doors. The voices don’t sound close, but they are near enough for you to hear. It’s not too strange, the beach is there for anyone. But it’s the first night that anyone has been out there, at least close enough for you to be able to hear from your bed. Music soon follows the voices. A party. 

Unbidden, the thought of someone breaking away from the party, coming down the beach this way and passing by the open doors has you clenching around Seokjin. He gasps at the sudden tightness, blinking down at where you’re connected. Licking his lips, he follows your gaze and a moment later, you see realization cross his features. 

His resulting grin is downright dangerous. “What’s got you going, baby? Hm?”

Swallowing, you turn back to him, blocking out the voices. You will not give him the satisfaction. “Nothing.”

Fingers digging into your hips, Seokjin glances towards the doors again. He gives a harsh thrust that pulls a startle moan from you. “Nothing, huh? I don’t think that’s true.” He turns back to you and there’s a dark look in his eyes. “I think that you want someone to walk by and see us. That the idea of being caught is exciting.”

You scoff, deliberately turning your face away from the doors. “I’m actually bored and thinking about what we’re doing tomorrow.”

Seokjin blinks at you for a moment before chuckling darkly. “Is that right?” You nod. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

It sounds like a threat and a challenge. And you’re never one to back down from a challenge. “Well in the morning, we’re meeting your parents for brunch…” 

Seokjin’s tongue presses against his cheek as he slams his cock into you. It would force you up the bed if not for his bruising grip on your hips keeping you firmly pinned in place, forced to take the full brunt of his cock spliting you open. 

But you’re just as stubborn as him. “Then we’re going… to the spa… oh my g-god… you… you made… p-plans for lunch…” 

Every few words you stutter out are punctuated by another harsh thrust. Your legs are pushed towards your chest and his next thrust has his cock rubbing along your g-spot and for a second, your mind blanks on what’s happening, pleasure so sudden and searing that you forget everything but the full feel of Seokjin’s cock inside you. He starts to grin then, victoriously, and that pulls you out of it just enough to continue, gritting your teeth as he continues to fuck you.

“Said you had… a surprise… then we were going to… oh, fuck… gonna go to t-town… buy some… gifts… Seokjin, please…”

He grins. “Gonna admit what you were thinking about?”

One hand leaves your legs, thumb brushing your clit and your resolve crumbles with your rising desire to cum. 

“Fuck… yes! I want someone to walk by. See you fucking me, making me cum, making me feel good… Seokjin, please…” you whine out.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

His rough thrusts pick up again. This time accompanied by the rhythmic movements on his fingers on your clit. Your orgasm builds quickly and leaves you breathless as Seokjin forces you over the edge. You cry out, heedless of the volume of your voice. If anything, the thought of someone hearing how Seokjin makes you feel makes you shudder with pleasure.

Seokjin groans, hands dropping to the bed as he chases his own orgasm, smothering his moan of your name against your shoulder. 

When he’s caught his breath, he raises his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So… exhibitionism, huh?”

 The stories you had are probably worth a lot. Which is why you keep them to yourself. No one but you and Seokjin need to know those details. Especially not some of the more nosy people you work with. Hoseok thankfully played along with only knowing him on a professional level and not that you all went to university together. 

It’s typically pretty easy to just ignore the chatter when it comes up about him. But a couple days ago, you had a dream about him. One that after you woke up, you couldn’t recall almost anything about it. Except his face and the heavy feeling in your heart. His smile was burned into your mind and has left you feeling off since then. The mention of him today combined with the weird feeling brought back a whole slew of memories and things you had thought you’d long since moved past. To the point that you made the decision to leave work to work early because you were so confused. Why you were suddenly feeling like this about someone who you thought you’ve been over for more than 10 years. 

You never thought you’d be here back in university. Together with Seokjin. You both had thought you’d be together forever, whispered together about getting married, about the future. The things you’d do and the places you’d go to. 

 The arm around your bare waist tightens, a firm chest pressing into your back. 

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” Seokjin murmurs into the skin of your shoulder.

You chew your lip nervously before shifting in his grip so that you’re now facing each other. You’ve been thinking about a lot of things as freshman year draws to a close. All of them lead back to Seokjin.

The afternoon sunlight peeks in through the curtains, casting golden light across him and the dormroom. It’s an odd time to be in bed together, but it’s one of the only moments that you both have free and there’s no dormmates around to bother or have to kick out. Though you know Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate and faux reluctant friend, would give you both the space if you asked. You don’t want to be the person that kicks him out constantly, so for now, you both are content to steal some free moments during the day when Yoongi has classes. Maybe next year you can think about getting a little place off campus together. A place both for you guys and maybe for your friends to visit and hang out at. 

You think Seokjin looks the most beautiful under the afternoon light regardless. Seokjin pecks your nose, drawing your attention back to him and his question that remains unanswered. You feel a little nervous bringing up what you were thinking about. But the two of you have been together for almost 3 years. You should be able to bring it up to him.

Swallowing your slight nerves, you finally speak. “Was just… thinking about the future…”

His answering smile is warm and gentle and you feel like the world could crumble around you and you would be safe here in his arms. “I hope I’m there.” 

Giggling, you press a kiss to his lips. “Of course. I can’t imagine a future without such a handsome man on my arm while I attend extravagant parties and get all the jealous stares to be dating someone so much younger than me.”

Gasping with as much drama as you expect from him, Seokjin falls onto his back, hands clutched over his chest. “I can’t believe this! The truth has finally come out! You’re only with me for my youthful looks!”

Fond smile growing, you settle your hand over his as he continues a dramatic monologue about the ultimate betrayal. You wish he would listen to you about changing his major. You know he’d love being an acting major much more than he currently is in his business major classes. A major he’s in only to appease his family. 

Finally tired of his dramatics, you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

 You wonder when he changed his degree. Or if he ever did. You know plenty of people who go into acting without the degree and Seokjin certainly had the inherent talent to do it. It would be easy to verify if you just looked him up. Someone who’s so in the spotlight now would certainly have his degree information online. But you don’t want to do that. You wonder how invasive that must be. Although you and Hoseok are beginning to get that popular too, you wonder if those sorts of things will begin to happen to you. You can’t imagine you’d be very interesting to follow around. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what would be worse in regards to the fate of Seokjin’s degree. If he had done what you had told him all along and changed his major after you two broke up, or if he had decided to follow his dreams even if he didn’t have the degree for it. It’s undeniable that it hurts either way. The first time you’d seen him in a trailer had sent you spiraling in a way that you hadn’t since the breakup. 

 There’s a pounding at the door, but you can’t find it in yourself to get off the couch. The TV is still on the channel it had been on last night and you’re still sat in the same place as then. Honestly, you only know that it’s at least morning because there’s light streaming in through the windows and when you had seen the trailer it had definitely been evening. 

You had been watching some show, whatever you landed on first that seemed at least mildly entertaining, while eating dinner. A quick break from the sketches that are scattered across your coffee table. Sketches that could lead to your first big contract.  

But your peaceful and exciting night of work had been interrupted when you’d seen a preview for a new drama. A new drama with Kim Seokjin. It had been crushing to see. You had been telling him to do that for so long. To the point that it became one of the contributing factors in your seemingly inevitable breakup. 

It seems then that the problem was never with whether or not he would follow his dreams after graduation. It was just if you would be there with him. You cried when you saw it, a vice of bitterness around your heart that while you don’t get to celebrate with him, you’re so happy that he’s doing what he loves. You’re fairly certain you stopped sometime around midnight, though the night was a little hazy as your thoughts circled around one thing. How he hadn’t wanted you there with him.

The banging at your door stops at some point, though you don’t know how long they kept it up for. And then your door is suddenly being shoved open, banging against the wall and there’s two sets of footsteps moving quickly into the apartment. You hear a muffled ‘fuck’ and then you’re being enveloped in a hug. 

It takes only a moment for you to realize who it is, the orange-y scent of Jimin’s favorite cologne washing over you. Your breath stutters then, it hurts to breathe so you bury your face in his chest and his arms tighten around you. He murmurs comforting words and someone else sits behind you, hand gently rubbing your back. 

Eventually, you calm down and you pull away to give Jimin a weak smile, one that you direct to Hoseok as well when you see him behind you. Jimin returns with a pained smile of his own. 

“You saw, huh?” You nod and Jimin sighs. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t see it last night. It’s what I was planning to tell you at dinner tonight. So you could be prepared for it. I’m so sorry I waited to tell you.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, you have nothing to apologize for.” You rub your neck. “I… I didn’t think I would react quite like this… It’s been 3 years. You worked so hard to help me out of that dark place-”

Jimin puts a hand over your mouth, cutting you off. “No, you worked hard to get yourself out of that dark place. I was just there to hold your hand. It was a tough breakup. It’s understandable if there’s occasionally things that bring that heartache back up.”

You nod slowly, not fully believing his assertion that he just held your hand post break up. You probably would’ve dropped out of university after the breakup if you hadn’t met Jimin. You look between him and Jimin. “H-how did you know to come?”

Hoseok gives a sheepish grin. “You didn’t show up to work and I got worried. I texted Jimin on my way here and he seemed to know exactly what had happened.”

“Now that we’re here. How about I go get all of us some junk food and you two find something trashy for us to binge?”

 After that, it got much easier to see him on your screen. Or on screens in the train stations. Or plastered on ads and billboards. 

It helped you actually, to finally, truly move on from him. A sort of immersion therapy to numb you to his face. You didn’t need him to be happy. You loved your budding design business with Hoseok, clubbing with Jimin, dating both casually and more seriously. It all got easier with time and you’re grateful for the friends that you have. Your friends have always been there for you, even back then. 

 Your first birthday after the breakup was rough. Seokjin always planned something elaborate and thoughtful. There would be none of that this year. You went to work in the morning, gave your coworkers a fake smile as they wished you a happy birthday with a cupcake in the breakroom before you opened the cafe. It was sweet of them to do, but the breakup was still far too recent for you to truly enjoy anything like this. 

Jimin had night classes so you would have the evening alone. You at least had your own room now instead of sleeping on Jimin’s couch in his old apartment. You had protested his plan to move to a two bedroom apartment for you both to share so you could have your own space. You knew on your meager wages you’d never be able to help with rent at such a large place. You and Seokjin had barely been able to afford your studio together.

But Jimin insisted. He had more than enough to cover rent and you could just save your money. Or buy groceries and cook. He hated cooking, could do it just fine but was too impatient for it. It seemed like incredibly inadequate compensation for him giving you a place to live, but he just smiled and said that’s what friends do for each other. You had cried and he teased you afterward and then made you buy him ice cream. But you agreed to moving and letting him help. 

And it was nice to have your own room. It was great to live with Jimin. He was the sweetest and seemed to always know exactly what you needed. Hoseok visited often too, though you don’t know if he was coming to see you or Jimin more some days, and the three of you worked hard to get through your last year of university. Together. 

But with Jimin in classes tonight, the apartment would be empty. You didn’t really feel like cooking either. So you’d probably just have some ramen. If you could even be bothered to eat to begin with. You freeze when you get to your floor, brows knit in confusion when you see a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow lilies, interspersed with sheep sorrels. The vase is a glossy deep blue, splashes of purples and pinks and speckles of white paint of soft starry night. 

You wonder who they’re for. They must have been left at the wrong door. You carefully look through the petals for a card, finding the glossy little square quickly. Tears gather in your eyes when you see the little cartoon cat head sketched into the blank area of the card. It’s a little cruder than you’re used to seeing, the ear slightly misshapen, the cheeks a little too chunky, the lines a little unsure. 

But it’s unmistakably Yoongi’s cat doodle. Meaning he must have dropped these off for you, even though you and Seokjin have broken up. And you’re not even sure if he knew where your new place was. You’d have to thank him soon for them. It makes the day a little less rough to have something so pretty. To know someone was thinking of you.

 You never did get the chance to thank him properly for the gift. At least directly. You’d taken him a coffee, a few days later, as thanks. He’d looked a little confused but never questioned or made you say anything out loud. Which you’re grateful for. Just because you and Seokjin split up, didn’t mean you and Yoongi couldn’t still be on friendly terms. Though you haven’t properly talked to him in quite a while. Maybe you should ask him to meet up soon. See how he’s been doing. 

But even with all the progress you’ve made and all that your friends have done for you, you still have the occasional bad day. Looking back on it, it had been years since you had one that affected you enough that you had to take off work specifically in regards to Seokjin. You’re really not sure what made it seem like the beach, this beach was the best place to go. But there was just something that called you here. 

For as painful as the breakup was, Seokjin was your first love. He was amazing while you were together. Always loving and supportive. Even when things started to fall apart.

 With a groan, you push the apartment door open, giving a harder shove when it gets jammed. Like it always does and your landlord refuses to do a thing about it. The lights are off when you finally get the door shut and your heart sinks. Seokjin was supposed to be home. You haven’t seen him for more than a few minutes in the last week. This was going to finally be the night you spent together. Throwing your bag down, you flick the lights on, seeing the cramped studio apartment is indeed empty. You pull your phone out, seeing if maybe he just ran out for something or if he was running late, but there’s nothing. 

You try not to let your disappointment consume you and instead grab your sketchbook from the shelf and decide to get some sketches done while you wait, hoping, probably vainly, that Seokjin will be back soon. 

You jerk awake to the sound of the door slamming and when you blink blearily at the clock, it’s nearly midnight. You turn to watch as Seokjin kicks his shoes off, weariness written in his posture. 

“Hey,” you croak and Seokjin gives no indication that he heard you. “Where were you?”

Seokjin straightens and sighs before turning to you. There’s a dead look in his eye that you’ve never seen before, let alone had directed at you. “Out.”

For all that you had been sad or worried, anger and confusion surges through you at his complete disregard. “Out? You could’ve texted. We were supposed to have a night in together.”

His jaw tightens and he drops his bag beside yours before moving towards the bathroom, the only place in this shithole with a door. “I had to study.”

And before you can say anything else, the bathroom door is slammed shut behind him. You stare at it incredulously. He can’t be serious. You’re just as stressed as he is. Finals are creeping in and along with that is planning for senior year. At the rate you’re going, summer is going to be unbearable. 

 You sigh, shaking the memories away. You don’t want to dwell on the bad anymore. Even if the breakup was crushing, the good times were amazing. With the sun finally below the horizon, the moon takes its place, casting cool white light across the beach. And with it, comes the peace of being alone. You let the sound of the waves lull your thoughts to silence.

But the sound of footsteps pulls your attention, confused because the beach is basically deserted at this time, the chill brought in with the moon driving most people inside. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Seokjin standing not far from you. The wind blows his hair from his face and he looks tired. A little older, but still just as handsome as he was in university.

There’s no way that this is happening. You must be dreaming. That’s right. This is just another dream. A weird continuation of the one from a couple of days ago. Seokjin isn’t really here. Not at the same time as you. Not when there’s no one around. Not when your heart feels vulnerable and you can admit that you maybe really, really miss him. Sometimes.

But the chill from the wind feels real. The wood biting into your palms where your grip has tightened on the bench feels real. He looks real and handsome and devastating. Every bit like the man who stole your heart in high school and broke it in college. Who loved to make sure his loved ones were always laughing. Who had such a flair for dramatics that it was never a surprise that he’s such a popular and talented actor. 

The jacket wrapped around his shoulders is unmistakably yours. A silly, casual design that you had done but never put into a collection cause there was never one it fit. You had sewn it on a whim, the idea eating away at you until you made it, settled the itch in your fingers. There’s only one way that Seokjin could’ve gotten that.

Hoseok. 

Have they been talking more than Hoseok let on?

Seokjin hasn’t noticed you yet and you’re wondering if you’d be able to slip away without having him notice you when he turns and freezes. He seems just as surprised and blindsided to see you as you are to see him. You stare at each other and it feels like an eternity and a million conversations pass between you both. He swallows and closes the short distance between you both and tentatively takes a seat beside you. 

He looks nervous when he turns towards you. Clearing his throat after a moment, he sticks his hand out, tentative smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Kim Seokjin.”

You almost laugh. It’s such a him thing to do. As if you would ever forget him. Seokjin left a scar on your heart, you’d carry a little piece of him for the rest of your life.

But the introduction feels like more than a way to break the tension. There’s a question hiding in his innocuous words. Is this okay? Can I be here? Can we be in each other’s lives again? 

Most importantly, it feels like a fresh start. A new chapter. You and Seokjin are different people now. You’re both successful. You’ve grown, matured, learned. You’re no longer the starry-eyed, hopeful kids in college. Full of dreams and hopes, but with so little experience. 

Who knows, maybe there won’t even be romantic feelings between you anymore. Maybe you’ll just end up friends. 

But maybe this new start is what you both need. The sun may have set on your relationship in the past, but maybe it was just what you both needed to let the sun rise now. Something new, and exciting, but still a little bit familiar. 

You take his hand with a smile. “Hi, Kim Seokjin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[oddshelbyout]

A Little Too Fond Of Him // Thomas Shelby X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @accioholland

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Summary: You go out for a drink after a bad day and sit down with Tommy to have a conversation but you’re too distracted by his eyes.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1725

Author’s Notes:

I really love this request because I love writing soft Tommy and also best friends to lovers. I’m sorry if Tommy is a little out of character, I just wanted him to be softer around Y/N.

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

It had been a long day. Being a teacher had it perks but you hadn’t come across to any of them that day. The children gave you a really hard time and you were extremely tired. You really needed a drink.

You went home first. You had to change your boring teacher clothes to your usual ones. You always cared if you looked good. You didn’t want to go out for a drink looking like an old lady.

Left home and made your way to the Garrison. You hoped Tommy, your best friend would be there because you hadn’t seen him for a while.

When you stepped into the pub, you noticed it was more crowded than usual. You wondered what was the occasion but also didn’t care enough to ask.

You walked to the bar, asked for a double scotch. Tommy always tried to make you drink irish whiskey and you were now just drinking scotch to annoy him even when he wasn’t around.

“Tommy’s in the booth if you’d like to say hello.” the bartender said as he put the glass in front of you. You smiled, you were happy that you could whine to him about your students. “Thanks.” you grabbed the glass and headed to the booth.

You opened the door seeing Tommy sit there with Finn and John but he wasn’t talking. He was just there watching his two younger brothers discuss something that himself wasn’t clearly interested in.

“So here are the Shelby boys, long time no see.” you said and their eyes turned on you. You closed the door behind you and stepped in.

“Y/N! Good to see you.” John said, he was always happy to see you. Finn just waved at you without saying a word.

“Out on a school night?” Tommy said before he took a drag from his cigarette. You shook your head and giggled.

“I don’t have any restrictions about that, unlike Finn.” your gaze fell on the youngest. He looked so annoyed, “I wouldn’t either if Tommy let me drop out.” he mumbled.

John patted on Finn’s shoulder, “Patience brother, patience.” he said and you saw a slight smile sit on Tommy’s face.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Tommy asked you and pushed the chair beside him so you can sit easily. You put your glass on the table first and then sat on the wooden chair.

“You seem a bit upset.” Tommy said to you, you licked your lips. “It’s okay, just a bad day.” you explained but he didn’t seem to be satisfied with your reply.

John and Finn saw that Tommy’s whole attention was on you so they excused themselves and said goodbye. You were now alone in the booth with Tommy and he seemed to be determined to know what was bothering you.

“I’m not convinced that’s just it.” he mumbled, you didn’t like when he was persuasive to get you talking but this time you actually wanted to tell.

“The kids barely listen to me, maybe it’s because I’m younger and not a bitchy old lady who’s only personality trait is being authoritarian.” you said in one breath and Tommy chuckled. That was rare but it made you smile even though what you were saying was pissing you off.

“You may be a bit too nice.” he said, you rolled your eyes. “Come on Tommy, I just don’t want to traumatise them.” you explained, he knew exactly what you meant.

“I’m not saying you have to be a bitchy old lady, just be a little more strict.” he said, you sighed. “I’m not like you Tom, I’m not good at not being nice.” you took a sip from your drink.

“Thank God for that.” he said and you smiled. He’d always said that his favourite thing about you was that you were too nice for your own good. At times it had bad consequences but being nice wasn’t something bad.

“I see you’re still drinking scotch.” Tommy said with his eyebrows raised. “I can’t believe you can distinguish whisky from the colour.” with your words his arms were up like he was guilty.

He looked tired but not like the usual, he just looked like he was fed up with something otherwise he wouldn’t try to keep the conversation on you if you stated you didn’t want that.

“Now tell me, what’s up with you?” you just had to ask. “Nothing.” he denied and lit up another cigarette. “There’s no way I’ll let you get away with not telling me.” you said directly, he sighed.

“It’s Finn.” he said, your eyes were fixated on his lips, so full and red. You always loved to examine his features while he spoke to you.

“I feel like I know where this is going.” you said and he sighed again. Your gaze drifted to his eyes. Oh his eyes, they were the most beautiful you’ve seen. They were such a light blue that you couldn’t believe how they could be real.

“He’s trying so hard to be like me.” he complained, he clenched his jaw. You didn’t respond, your mind was only working on how beautiful his eyes were at that moment.

“He’s only 16, he should do as I say not as I do.” he continued his rant. You were too distracted by his eyes, your impression went blank but the corners of your lips were still a little curled.

“I told him no guns and he went to steal one from Polly.” you weren’t hearing him. His eyes had mesmerized you once again. His blue eyes were blinding your eyes.

“I only want him to go to school so he doesn’t end up like me.” he said. He wanted his youngest brother to have a better future. You just nodded but not at what he said, you weren’t hearing him. You were nodding to your inside voice saying the shade of his eyes were just like the sky.

“Oi!” Tommy called and now you were back to the real world. “Huh?” you said coming back to realise he was telling you what was bothering you the whole time. You felt like a fool.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?” he asked, he was so annoyed. You licked your lips in shame. “Honestly, no.” you admitted. “You’re gonna make me tell it all again, right?” he asked, so you only sadly nodded.

He told it all once again, you had all your attention on him this time but you were still examining his individual features. How his cheeks blushed when he started to get angry.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, you blinked in surprise. “Just appreciating your eyes.” you blurted out, only to realise what you said afterwards.

Tommy froze, his lips parted. “My eyes?” he asked and you pushed your lips together, you were embarrassed. There was no going back after this.

“Your eyes are just so pretty, they distract me.” you explained hoping he wouldn’t be weirded out by that. “You think my eyes are pretty.” he said softly, his lips curled up a bit.

“Yes.” you simply answered, you were so nervous about what he would say afterwards. “I think your eyes are pretty too.” he said and your jaw dropped. That was definitely not what you expected.

“My eyes are mediocre.” you said, your eyes were nowhere close to how beautiful his eyes were. “I think mine are too.” his voice was still soft, it wasn’t what you were used to.

“No, yours are extraordinary.” he couldn’t hold himself back and chuckled. You hadn’t seen him chuckle like that with a big smile in so long that you couldn’t believe it. He was actually happy that you said that and was definitely not weirded out.

“Extraordinary.” he repeated what you just said, his smile didn’t fade. Your one hand was sitting on the table and he moved his hand to yours. You felt your stomach twirl, it didn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

“Yes.” you were out of words to say. “What does it mean Y/L/N?” him calling you by your last name was nothing new but it felt different at that moment with the tone he said it with.

“You tell me.” you just really didn’t know where this was going and it scared you. “Maybe you’re a little too fond of me.” you held your breath, what he said wasn’t so easy to process. Were you in love with your best friend? No, that couldn’t be it or could it?

“No.” you simply replied, “Then why are you looking at me like that, telling me my eyes are extraordinary.” your wind was working so slowly. You had no idea how to respond to that.

“Okay, I might be a little too fond of you.” you admitted, you had no other choice. “So you finally realised.” he said and your eyes popped out of its place.

“What?” you blurted out, “I’ve been waiting for you to realise so I could ask you out.” he said. You jumped out of your seat, “What the fuck Tommy?” you shouted.

“You’re not as smart as you think.” you said before giving him a chance to speak, “Why did you have to wait for me? You didn’t wait for any other girl!” you weren’t angry but you were just so annoyed.

“You’re not some other girl.” he said and licked his lips. “I needed to be sure our friendship wouldn’t go to waste.” you took a deep breath, “Oh.” you could reply with only that.

“So you liked me all this time and didn’t say a word and also fucked around as much as you could?” you asked, he nodded, he obviously didn’t know how to reply

You sat back down on the chair and put your hand on the table again. This time he didn’t only get his hand closer to yours but held it. His cold hand gave you chills.

You didn’t even realise how much you were attracted to him and just in a blink you were going on a date. It was far from what you expected for the night, all you wanted was a drink after a tough day. You still were happy with the result and Tommy seemed to be too.

[pockyxx]

“ seijoh 3rd years as boyfriends ”

oikawa toru x reader, iwaizumi hajime x reader, matsukawa issei x reader and hanamaki takahiro x reader

genre: fluff

oikawa

would be the type of boyfriend to send you those lovey dovey good morning texts 

even if they were cheesy as hell you’d know they were sincere 

he’d always be there to reassure you when you felt insecure 

this includes when you’re insecure about all his fan girls constantly giving him attention 

tight hugs 

this boy may be scrawny but I know he’d squeeze the life outa you

you’d bully him along with iwa-chan 

he’d text you at ungodly hours with new alien conspiracy theories 

would take you to instagram-able places for dates 

definitely would initiate the cuddles 

would force you to wear his jersey on game days 

his love language is words of affirmation 100% and will always remind you how much he loves you

“Hurry up shittykawa, you were suppose to be warming up five minutes ago!” Iwaizumi scolded him in the hallway of the recreational center that the volleyball tournament was being held at.  Oikawa stuck his tongue out at his childhood best friend. 

“So mean iwa-chan, can’t you see I’m with n/n-chan.” He called you by the nickname only he called you. Your cheeks begin to heat up as Iwaizumi had caught you mid kiss. The ace rolled his eyes and went back to join the rest of the team. 

“Where were we? Oh right, my good luck kisses!” He snickered, waiting for you to get up on your tiptoes to plant a handful of kisses on his lips. 

“You heard him shittykawa, you’re game is starting soon!” You denied him, dragging him towards the court he was to be playing on. 

“Not you too!” He whined in an over dramatic fashion yet he couldn’t help but think how cute you looked dragging him, his hoodie draping over your figure perfectly. 

iwaizumi

tries to act tough and manly but is really a big ole baby 

wouldn’t be much for pda except for the occasional hand holding and waist grabbing 

in private tho... this man would cling onto you like no tomorrow

loves when you touch/ play with his hair--its softer than it looks 

forces you to watch his godzilla movies but in return you can make him watch whatever you want

his love language is definitely physical touch 

he loves idle touches, just feeling your skin against his 

walks you home and waits for you to step into your house before leaving 

great big bears hugs, no one can tell me other wise 

hits the ball extra hard when he knows you’re watching 

always wants to know about how your day’s been 

You cuddled up to your boyfriend’s side, as his eyes are glued to the screen; as if someone was going to kill him if he looked away. Yawning slightly you lay your head in his lap as you grab his hand to play with his fingers. 

You’d lost interest in the plot, finding Hajime’s reactions much more enjoyable. Watching his expressions change from excited to sad to anxious was enough to make you laugh. 

“What’s so funny babe?” He looked down at you, finally taking his eyes off the movie. You looked up at him as his larger hand was still in yours. 

“You’re really cute Hajime. Did you know that?” You giggled, making his face blush a deep shade of red before he snapped his head away from your gaze.

You sat up, forcing him to lock eyes with you, laughing again at the sight of such a macho man being so flustered just by words. 

“Don’t act like it’s a bad thing.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips, “you’re a softy deep down.”

Iwaizumi’s heart went into overload. He brought you into his arms, in a bone-crushing and laid back down on the couch to finish the movie.

matsukawa

definition of dating your best friend 

enjoys listening to you talk about your day 

would send you really funny memes in the middle of class just to see you get red as you try to hold into your laughter 

your laughter is like music to his ears 

loves pda, as long as you’re okay with it 

would take you to mcdonalds anytime of the day, just say the words 

besides memes and reaction pics, his camera roll would be filled with stupid pictures of you 

surprisingly good at cuddling 

place things high out of your reach just so you can ask him to get it down for you 

silly pet names; like that are overly absurd

he would get involved with your interests/ hobbies or a sport you play  

Class was just so boring, especially with your teacher being a rude old fart. You sat near the front and as your sensei wrote something down on the chalkboard you looked behind to catch a glance at your boyfriend, Issei. 

He was looking at his phone as per usual, probably messaging his friend Makki in the class next to you. His dark eyebrows had been raised, his lips tugging into a half smile and you could tell he was up to something. 

On your desk, your phone buzzed and you could only attribute it to your boyfriend sending you a message. Of course you were right and went to check it out. 

matt-sunshine: *attachment one photo* this could be us but you playin 

You looked back at him hesitantly but Issei had gone back to paying attention to the lecture. Biting your lips, you opened the picture your boyfriend had sent and you then proceeded to pray that you’d be able to keep your mouth shut. 

The picture in question had been two feet mimicking holding hands, except it was toes. For some reason that picture with what Issei had captioned it had sent you over the top. You let a loud, ugly laugh slip past your lips.

As you excepted, your teacher had issued you three days of after school detention for that. You glarred at your boyfriend, upset with him getting you in trouble but it was soon forgiven after he offered to take you out to eat after your detention. 

hanamaki

similar to mattsun: he’d be your best friend and lover 

when you’re feeling down he’ll do/ say funny thing to make you feel better 

you dye each other's hair 

lots of teasing on both ends 

this boy is always hyping you up no matter the occasion 

is mutual to pda, it all depends on how you feel about it 

loves to kiss all your ticklish spots just to see you giggle 

convos with him would be like you saying something funny, then makki following it up with something even more funny and so forth until you’re both about to pee your pants 

no matter what’s happening, he’s got a meme for it

religiously quotes the ‘ily bitchhh, and i ain’t ever gonna stop loving you, bitchhh’ vine when talking to you 

You sat in Takahiro’s room, waiting for him to come back up with snacks for your video game session, something you and him took very seriously. You leaned back in the bean bag, thinking about what the loser’s punishment would be and right as an idea popped into your head, your boyfriend walked in. 

He placed the candies, chips and sodas on the small coffee table and passed you the Wii remote. 

“So my precious booger,” cue the disgusting nickname he swore on his grandfather’s grave was suppose to be endearing, “what will the looser have to do this time?” Takahiro flopped down next to you. 

Pressing your lips together, cautiously bringing up what you had in mind.  “Loser has to dye their hair hmm... green!” he laughed and agreed to the idea. 

The two of your then wiped off the cutesy faces before starting the game: Mario Kart. You looked at him, a competitive glaze coating his eyes. You knew for sure you didn’t want to loose. 

After a grueling final race, the winners slides popped up and to your surpirse you were the winner. 

Makki threw his control in disbelief, “it’s rigged, I swear!” He huffed, crossing his arms but you only got up in his face, teasing him with your victory. 

“Now you’re going to be the booger-head, Hiro!” He rolled his eyes, gentally hitting your face with a pillow before standing up. 

“Where are you going?” You wondered, drinking some of the soda he’d offered you earlier. 

“That hair dye won’t buy itself.” 

[rhaenyratargeryn]

title: a concession pairing: Loki x Sylvie summary: Sometime in the near future, Sylvie allows herself to enjoy a small, intimate moment. notes: This is the song I listened to while writing this, among other 1960s "sweetheart" slow dances. Also on Ao3!!

It was a rare moment of peace, a thing Sylvie had not experienced since— well, since ever. Or since she was a girl. Which felt the same as saying never.

From somewhere in the distance of the small, luminous moon-based city, she could hear music on the air. It may have even been coming through the open doors of the balcony she had hidden away on. It was nice. Visiting places that were not hours away from utter and complete destruction. There was no fear, no rush, no ever looming sensation of foreboding dread. Of the knowledge the only choice left to them now was whether to die running or resting in their beds, holding loved ones close.

Sylvie wondered sometimes if that was what made a “Sylvie” not very much like a “Loki” at all.

Though she supposed she could be selfish. She could be cruel. She had been both in a way, when she opened the door behind Loki and sent him tumbling back into the TVA.

They had made amends since then— as much as was possible. She had betrayed him, committing the same transgression she had condemned him for time and time again. She could feel it, the consequence of that choice, lingering in the hesitation in the smiles he gave her. He had hesitated before, but it had been personal. Internal.

Now she was to blame as well.

Sylvie scowled, heaving a sigh at herself and trying to brush the thoughts aside in favor of listening to the slow, steady beat of the music. She rolled her shoulders, even swayed a little, trying to force the tension away.

She did not miss the sound of footsteps coming into her sanctum, disrupting her aloneness.

“Do you dance?”

Sylvie opened her eyes and tipped her head to look up into the eyes, so very much like her own. He had given up the TVA suit and jacket in favor of an entirely black one. A keen eye however, would catch that the shirt beneath the smart jacket was in fact a shade of dark green, silk and entirely too luxurious and soft looking.

“On occasion.” Sylvie replied, drawing her eyes back up from her inspection to note his own were lit with interest. Awareness. Of her, of her gaze on him. It made his shoulders set a bit more confidently.

Sylvie cleared her throat and turned back to the scene laid out from the balcony. The city glinted below, a cosmic wonder of the worlds. It reminded her of Lamentis-1, if Lamentis had been allowed to thrive. To live. The glittering and whole world it could have become had the fates not decided it should end, broken. Ash and wind.

Loki did not say anything, but he came to stand nearby. His presence alone told her he wanted to. He wanted to ask what he was really thinking but there was that damn hesitation. That caution. Once bitten, twice shy.

“Is this your way of asking me to dance?” Sylvie said flatly, masking her olive branch as a joke. A prod.

“No— No no.” Loki chided, attempting to dodge her teasing, “I did not—”

“Because it sounds like you’re asking me to dance. Rather badly too.”

They spoke over each other, falling into easy banter in strides.

“I asked if you did— if you did dance. Not to dance. I had not quite--”

“Gotten to that part yet?” she finished and tilted her head to one side, smiling, despite herself.

He laughed, short and breathy, “You are always a step ahead, I suppose.”

“The superior Loki.”

The jokes faded, they had only been half-hearted to start. An attempt to return to an old repertoire, a dance of their own they had only just begun to perfect when the music stopped. The needle lifted. She shut him out.

And yet here he was. Looking foolish and so stupidly hopeful and handsome and everything she was and wasn’t and could be and could never be— Sylvie swallowed hard and wished in that moment to suddenly be anywhere else.

The song changed. Softer. Slower.

“Do you want to dance? There. See? I was building to it.” Loki said, looking far too proud for once whose silver tongue turned immediately to lead in her presence.

“Why not?” Sylvie replied, telling herself the breathless tone in her voice was from her sigh. She wondered if Loki was telling himself that too. He offered her his hand and she surprised them both with how easily she took it, letting herself be drawn to the center of the balcony.

They were stilted. Awkward. Teenagers at the prom. Sylvie had seen movies, she knew these kinds of things. A life on the run did not mean she had never had the time to watch Pretty in Pink.

His right hand was in hers, his left high on her waist, her left on his shoulder. They fell into a slight sway, the tension and hesitation leaving the longer they moved, focusing on the music. His hands were so much larger than hers— the heel of his palm shifting slightly further, smoothing to her lower back.

She stepped closer without thinking, drawn in by the simple motion. Sylvie felt her heart stammer in her chest when she realized that faint, heavenly scent of spice and wood was coming from him. From his clothes. From that soft silk shirt she wanted to run her fingertips over… press her cheek into.

The music was softening her resolve, her eyes. She knew if she looked up at him now, she’d see a truth in his— a truth that no doubt was shining through her own.

It scared her. It scared her more than anything had ever scared her in her life. To look up in Loki’s eyes and see her own feelings reflected back in them.

Returned. Requited. Seen. Known.

“You’re trembling.” his voice was low, sending a shiver over her arms.

“So are you.” she murmured, accusatory, but half-hearted.

And then without asking, without hesitating, he slid his palm fully across her lower back and pulled her in flush against him.

“It’s chilly.” Loki replied and Sylvie noted she need only tip forward a little and her forehead would be resting against his chest.

“We’re frost giants, Loki.”

He chuckled, the sound a rumble in his chest. She chased the sound, relishing in it. Bottling it up in her memory, right next to the other ones she could dare to label “good”. Her cheek was against the soft silk of his shirt and his chin settled atop her head.

Gods above, it felt so wonderful. To be held. To be safe. She wanted to pretend, she wanted to pretend for once that she was not an orphan. Not a refuge of a stillborn timeline. Not a temporal disappointment.

She was just Sylvie, princess of Asgard, dancing with a prince.

Loki’s lips ghosted over the top of her hair and Sylvie felt her heart surge in panic. In rejection of this feeling and its lurid, tempting warmth.

He must have felt her tension or the sudden fluttering of her heart because he drew back. Gave her a little distance. It was enough. The retreat of his own had staved off whatever instinct to flee had creeped into her heart.

They kept dancing— or rather, simply swaying. Steps slower, out of pace with the music, but in a rhythm of their own.

It was nothing, Sylvie tried to tell herself. A small concession. An attempt at normalcy. A bid for comfort no different than any other she might have sought out.

And yet, inside, the memory was taking root, blooming up in a row with all the other good ones she had managed to cultivate.

All with him.

[tizzymcwizzy]

AAAAAHHH I LOVE YOU ALIZIEH THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST BHJBHJJHBHJ i had way to much freaking fun with this~  also lmao I barely proofread this and I'm super rusty, apologies,,

20 Displays of Affection Fic Asks by @rosekasa​

Ao3 Link

2. person A preoccupied with something while sitting next to person B but still makes sure to hold person B’s hand/play with their hair/put a hand on their leg etc.

Among Many Distractions

"What are you looking at?" Marinette glanced at him, looking up from the notebook she was working in.

"Gah- nothing!" Adrien sputtered and looked back at his own notebook, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks. They were sitting in a coffee shop, trying to work on a physics assignment. Emphasis on trying. Adrien was having an incredibly hard time focusing on physics and not on Marinette. He kept finding himself straying from the assignment and back up at Marinette, who, for reasons he could only chalk up to divine torture, had worn her hair down today. Christ.

"Adrien," she said, not looking up from the notebook.

He flushed again, turning away and covering his face. "Sorry," he groaned, sinking into the seat.

"What is it, do I have something on my face?" She asked, poking his arm with her pen.

"No," Adrien groaned and peeked at her through his hands. She was frowning at him with one of those adorable little pouts that she did when trying to solve a difficult problem. He couldn't help but smile. "You're just really pretty.” He whispered and drew his hands away from his face.

She gawked at him, letting her pen fall from her hand and roll away. "You!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him, turning a bright shade of red. "Stop that."

"What?" He giggled, feeling the grin spread across his face before he could stop it. 

"Stop what- stop whatever it is that you're doing," she grumbled and looked back down at her notebook.

"It's not my fault I'm sitting next to the prettiest girl in the world," Adrien sighed dreamily for effect and leaned on his hand to stare at her. Enjoying, maybe a bit too much, how pink her ears turned, rivaling his own.

She froze, staring up at him. Then she kicked him under the table, hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" He laughed, rubbing his leg.

"Work on your homework and stop trying to make me spontaneously combust!" She whisper-yelled.

"Sorry," he sighed, turning back to his notebook. They settled back into silence, only interrupted by comparing their answers on occasion.

Then, while he was struggling to find out which number he'd forgotten a negative on, a faint tapping came from the table. He glanced up at a small, reaching hand near his paper. Adrien looked up and saw Marinette still focusing on her notebook. Oh. He reached out and held her hand in his, which she took and gave a small squeeze. 

"What?" He whispered gently.

"Just because we're working doesn't mean I can't hold your hand," she whispered back, "and because you looked sad." Adrien chuckled at that.

"Thanks." He looked back to his notebook and finished the problem, absentmindedly tracing his thumb over her fingers. 

After a while, Adrien finished the last few problems and glanced up to see where Marinette was at. She held up a finger, telling him to wait. He smiled and looked out the window to his left, watching the familiar Paris street bustle with life. This coffee shop had become a popular must-visit after a very inconspicuous pair of superheroes began to grab morning coffee here. Marinette had been the one to insist he try this place, and it became a regular go-to before morning patrols on the weekend. But, they both agreed that it was much more relaxing as civilians rather than superheroes.

Marinette let out a tiny frustrated grumble as she erased her work. She brushed her hair back behind her ear and tapped the pen to the side of her face. Adrien pulled her hand up and placed a soft kiss between her knuckles, watching for her reaction.

Her head flew up and she stared at him with wide eyes, face flushed. "You…" she growled.

"I what?" Adrien hummed against her knuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“You. Are. Insufferable.” Marinette pursed her lips and frowned at him.

He burst out laughing, holding her hand up to his forehead, that she didn’t pull back, mind you, as he doubled over. 

“You think you’re so funny,” she grumbled, failing to hide the smile forming on her face.

“I think,” he waved her arm around, “that I’m hilarious. You’re the one without a sense of humor.”

“I’m the one without a sense of humor huh?” She was smiling fully now. 

"Yes, you never laugh at my jokes," he closed his eyes and waved her arm around rhythmically, "which are purrfectly funny, might I add." 

Adrien heard a shuffle and felt Marinette's arm move up. He opened his eyes to see her leaning over the table. "Wha-" he started, but got cut off as she grabbed his collar and pulled his face to hers.

"May I?" She asked, smirking wide, her breath hot on his face.

He didn't think the words would fall out of his mouth reliably, so he nodded. Marinette pulled him by the collar and pressed her lips to his. They were warm and softer than he expected. The kiss was brief, saddeningly so, but a jolt of electricity shot through him straight down the spine, freezing him in place. It wasn't the first time they had kissed, not by a longshot, but it still made his stomach flip on its axis.

Marinette pulled away, cheeks red, nothing compared to his, though, and beaming wide. She released his collar and sat down. Adrien gawked at her with his mouth open. "Why..." he exhaled and let the sentence fall away. 

She stared back and bit her lip to stop a large smile from growing on her face. Adrien pointed at her and tried to say something, but resolved to snap his mouth shut.

"How's that for a taste of your own medicine?" Marinette giggled, squeezing his hand.

"S- sweet." He nodded and attempted to regain his composure. Blushing further as Marinette continued to giggle behind a polite hand. "I, I think you win," he sighed, joining her in laughter.

Thank you for reading!! aaaaahhh

[classicdaisycalico]

Im here for the most recent ask prompt. I didn't understand if we have to tell you a pair, but I will say #1 and #15 with shadouge

Short fic challenge

Anon I will do ANYTHING to liven up the Shadouge tag so HERE WE GO.

1. "A conversation you wish had happened in canon"

***

With the sheer brawn of Iblis and the devilish cunning of Mephiles, Solaris was the biggest challenge anyone on the side of good had yet to face. Without a doubt, the Emeralds were needed here. Sonic was needed here.

But he was dead...or so it seemed.

Elise mentioned something about sensing his presence in the wind, a sort of wishful justification that somehow the blue hedgehog was only mostly dead. Admittedly, Shadow would have been lying if he hadn't thought the same. That faker had a fighting spirit that could last as long as the ultimate life form himself could exist. Without that kind of motivation, any fight against Solaris would be for naught. Gathering the seven Chaos Emeralds, then, was the only right thing to do.

Somehow everyone had managed to pull through on this feat, and in record time, apparently. Granted, the destruction of time and space itself may have been a factor, but the speed at which the gems had been obtained was astounding, nevertheless. How ironic, Shadow thought to himself, that this process had been slower while the blue blur had been alive. Perhaps a well-timed nod to the idea after Sonic was brought back could give him the motivation to stay focused on the matter a little better.

Still, that would only happen if the revival was a success.

"Think it'll work?"

A voice next to him interrupted his train of thought. He turned and found Rouge standing at his side. "I don't see why not," he said. "The Chaos Emeralds had a hand in giving me life. They should have no issue in giving Sonic his back."

The black hedgehog couldn't help but feel his muzzle heat up when he realized how close the two of them were standing. It hadn't even been the first time the distance between them was this small. It was since that fateful day by the sea that he became more cognizant of the idea.

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the same day he had been told of what was to come for him and Omega, their faithful E-series robot companion, in the future. It was that same member of Team Dark, in fact, who would betray him and seal him into stasis forever, after everyone else in the world turned against him.

Everyone except Rouge, who rescued him from stasis in Eggman's base, who saved his life on several other occasions, who had worked with him to defeat his own biological father and his alien offspring permanently. Through all the light and dark he had suffered, she had been by his side the whole time.

She would make that same point again that very day. The words echoed in his mind, over and over again, like a broken record:

"Shadow...even if you believe everyone in the world will be against you...know that I'll always be by your side. Remember that..."

He wasn't wrong when he said "I will". Until now, no one else in recent memory would stand by someone whose past was so painful, someone whose memory had been tampered with one time too many, someone who was abused to the point of distrusting everyone around him, someone whose path to recovery was like navigating a minefield. Anyone else who said this to him would have him wonder if they meant such a promise.

And yet, he believed her every word. At least, with her, he never had to doubt anything. He never had to second-guess himself. Recovering from his past never scared her away.

Shadow respected that. He respected her, and he trusted her. For him to hold anyone in such a high regard was not something that was given freely.

Still, "respect" and "trust" didn't feel like enough to describe what he felt.

He recalled a conversation long ago with Maria on the ARK, where she once explained to him the concept of love. For a 12-year old girl, her response was surprisingly mature. According to her, she knew someone loved another if they prioritized that person's else's needs before their own in times of trouble.

She was absolutely correct. Between her, Shadow, and Gerald, her definition checked off all the right boxes. Maria was family, after all; of course he and Gerald loved her.

He had also come to learn that Rouge checked off all those boxes, too. Of course, the only context Shadow knew of this kind of love was family. This bat was not family, not in the way he was used to.

But he still loved her.

He looked over at Amy, wringing her hands together while trying to hold back tears as Elise lay the Emeralds in a circle around Sonic. As much as Shadow couldn't seem to believe it, maybe the pink hedgehog was onto something. Perhaps whatever she felt for her blue hero, he felt for the spy next to him. The idea held water very well; there was probably no other way to describe it.

Elise was now lying next to Sonic in the middle of the Emeralds, which began to glow. All the while, the ultimate life form let his fingers brush against those of his ally. As it turned out, these newfound feelings had given way to something else on his mind. "Rouge."

The partner in question turned and faced him. "Yes?"

"He can't fight this alone."

She blinked, feeling his hand grasp hers. "What are you saying?"

"Solaris may well be the biggest threat we've ever seen. Sonic cannot face it alone."

Rouge's eyes widened. "So you're joining him?"

"Silver, too," Shadow replied. "And even among the three of us, our efforts may not be enough."

The Emeralds were floating now, revolving around Sonic's body. Only one scenario involved the gems acting this way. If he was to help the faker, this was the way to do it, but before he could join him, there was one last thing left to do.

He turned to face Rouge. "People may die tonight," he answered. "And if I should be one of them–"

"Shadow, we know that's impossible–"

"If I should be one of them..." he resumed, harshly, before taking a calmer breath to compose himself. "You said you would stay by my side no matter what. Is that right?"

She nodded slowly. "Absolutely."

He took another slow breath, reaching for the limiters on his wrists. "If I should live after this battle...find me."

He removed them, while Rouge could only watch in dismay. "Shadow–"

He urgently placed the limiters in her hands. "Find me," he repeated, and sighed, shaking his head. "If only I told you sooner..."

There was a sternness in her voice now as she heard the serious tone in his. "Tell me what?"

Looking at her, Shadow could see up close just how many small features of her he never paid attention to, like how her snow-white hair curled slightly at the ends. Like how her eyes were a perfect mixture of blue and green. Like how her skin somehow miraculously remained untouched by battle scars no matter how many fights she found herself in.

He chose to set himself up for this. There was no turning back now. Taking one last look at his ally, the hedgehog shut his eyes and pressed his lips to hers.

He could feel her gasp in surprise, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was that she needed to know how he felt about her before it was too late.

Before he knew it, the spy was kissing him back. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, reassured that her feelings were mutual. After all, her promise was as good as binding. Was that not a declaration of love by itself?

On any other occasion, he would have gladly taken his time with this kiss. He could have deepened it, ran his fingers through her hair, lightly stroked her velvety wings, let his hands venture down her back and along her hips and up again, mold the sharp edges of his own figure into the softer curves of hers until there was no space between them at all. Call it the territorial instincts of his Black Arms DNA, perhaps.

Take that, Knuckles.

But there was still a war going on, and he still had a role in it.

They pulled away as slowly as time would allow, their eyes only half open and gazing longingly into the other's. Their foreheads were still touching, along with the tips of their noses. One of his hands still clung to hers, fingers laced together. He could hear her taking slow, steady breaths, stark contrast to the rapid pulse of her heart. Who could blame her? She was caught horrendously off-guard. "What did you want to tell me, Shadow?"

He wanted to tell her. Badly. But all he could do was gently nuzzle the side of her face. "There's no time."

"You can't just–"

Rouge found herself holding Shadow's limiters against her chest, but there was no Shadow standing in front of her. Instead, she looked up and saw him slowly backing away, the ghost of regret clouding his eyes. "What are you doing?"

He shook his head, feeling a part of his heart ache as the distance between them increased. "I'm sorry."

The ultimate life form turned on his heel and ran towards the Chaos Emeralds, now rapidly rotating around Sonic. His only focus now was joining the blue blur and destroying Solaris for good.

He had to survive. Only then, could he find his ally and let her know the three words that echoed through his mind, but never found the right time and place to say out loud:

"I love you."

***

OKAY NOW FOR THE OTHER ONE LET'S DO THIS

***

15. "The scene that will give you, personally, the most joy."

***

The sun was going down, illuminating the sky with brilliant shades of orange and gold fading into red. Dusk would soon be near, which meant nightfall was not far behind.

Being a bat, a night creature, Rouge thrived during this time of day. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't slow down and appreciate the beauty that this sunset had to offer. It almost made her forget the rest of her surroundings, like the tree attached to the thick branch on which she stood.

Upon suddenly seeing Shadow pop up next to her, she yelped in shock. "Don't do that! You scared me half to death!"

"Rouge, I have a question."

There it was, the perfect opportunity to ask her about what was on his mind, about how it was always around Rouge that he found himself trying to keep a cool head a little more than needed. It was her that made his face flush a deeper red than the streaks in his quills. It was her who made his heart beat faster than he could run. It was her that caught every man's eye in a way so tantalizing that he felt a need to tell them all to back off.

Tantalizing...like the many gems she chased after. Her eyes were like turquoise, her lips like amethyst, her black catsuit like onyx, her hair like pearls. Who was she to talk about the mysterious brilliance of a Chaos Emerald when she herself was right there before his eyes? And just like a diamond, her personality was just as multifaceted. On one hand, she appeared cold and cruel, calculating and cunning. On the other, she showed a caring and compassionate side, a side she showed to no one else but him. She was everything a jewel could ever be: hard to find and even harder to obtain, but so beautiful one couldn't help but get drawn in.

In fact, he'd been drawn in for so long, he nearly forgot he had a question to ask. "...When was the last time you ever really got to see the world?"

The bat was slightly taken aback by this question. "I–"

"And not because of some jewel heist, either. I mean...REALLY seeing the world."

She sat down on the tree branch, now much deeper in thought. "I...don't know. Probably...never? Why?"

The hedgehog sat down next to her. "Because it's come to my attention that I never have, either." He smoothed some stray quills back, a tell-tale sign of the nervousness he harbored around her. "To be honest...I was wondering–"

"Of course I'll come with you."

He froze. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Lucky guess. Besides," she added, reaching for his hand. "It's what she would have wanted for you. Besides, with Eggy out of commission for good, you've got nothing but time to do it."

He knew immediately which "she" the spy referred to: Maria, his surrogate sister from long ago, whose wish to see the world had never been realized. He also knew Rouge wasn't wrong about Eggman, either. He was gone. Completely. Nothing could restrain Shadow, limit him, make him doubt himself and his decisions.

He was, for all intents and purposes...free. And Rouge wanted to fly in that freedom with him. She helped him find it, after all.

A smile slowly spread across his face. "Then why wait?"

He grabbed her wrist, ready to venture forth, until he realized what was under her hand was not her wrist. It felt loose. Round. Like a piece of jewelry, no doubt. "Rouge...what is that?"

The ultimate life form could see her pause, her muzzle turning bright pink as she searched for words. "...It was from a long time ago," she answered. "I meant to tell you earlier today, but I forgot."

He tilted his head to the side. "Care to show me?"

She took a deep breath, and slowly slid down part of her glove from her elbow down to her wrist. He gasped as he realized what it was he felt: on her wrist was one of his inhibitor rings. "Is that–"

"Yeah," she answered, sheepishly, trying to avoid his eyes.

"How...?" was all he could ask. "When did you–"

"Since the ARK. When you fell from space back down to Mobius. Sonic found it...he gave it to me when I asked you where you went."

The bat looked back up. "Everyone thought you were dead, but something told me I would find you again...and I did. But you lost your memory, and between all those androids, and the Black Arms, and Gemerl, and even beyond that..."

Her voice trailed off. She almost sounded shameful when she explained it, but Shadow didn't care. He could only stare back at her in wonder. "You wore it this whole time?"

She nodded. "I'd say it's more important than any jewel I've ever found. I value it."

The bat looked up at the hedgehog, the uncertainty in her eyes dissipating. "And I value the hedgehog that came with it just as much, if not more."

He was speechless. Even if she didn't say the exact words he expected her to, her intent was clear: she loved him.

And his feelings were certainly more than mutual. "Rouge...I–"

He was cut off when she reached up to kiss him. This wasn't just a flirty little peck on the cheek, however. This was a real kiss, one that represented all the pent-up passion and emotion finally coming out.

It was here that Shadow realized Rouge was not completely jewel-like. Jewels were hard, but her lips were soft against his. Jewels were angular and severe, nothing like the gentle curve of her waist. Jewels were sharp, unlike the smoothness of her skin and her hair.

No. There was not a single gem on the planet that could replicate this.

They broke apart almost reluctantly, but nothing could stop them from smiling. It was an unusual feeling for Shadow to experience, but it made sense that it was Rouge alone who could make it feel less strange.

He felt the spy nuzzle against his shoulder. "Where to now, ally?"

The hedgehog couldn't help chuckling. He called her "ally" as far back as when they found Emerl. It was the closest thing to a nickname he was comfortable calling her. "You're more familiar with this world than I am. You tell me."

She looked back up at him. "I hear Spagonia is nice this time of year. Might take us a while to get there, though..."

"Are you sure?" He reached from behind his quills and brought out a Chaos Emerald. "Just in time to watch the sunrise."

His hold around her waist secured itself further. "Ready when you are."

She was grinning from ear to ear. "Let's get moving."

He held up the Emerald in the air, effortlessly uttering the words, "Chaos Control!"

Together, in a brilliant flash of light, they disappeared as the sun sank down over the horizon, awaiting a new day in Spagonia, a new day that would usher in a new era in their lives, one full of adventure, freedom, and most importantly, one where they finally found peace.

[starkeristheendgame]

Hii I'm the anon that was looking for fics where Peter gets overwhelmed by his senses during sex, I would absolutely LOVE for you to write something if you want to!!

Oof, this gave me feels! I’m so honoured that you’d like me to write something! I hope I did this justice and I hope that I fulfilled your Starker needs! This is pretty vague in terms of age and canon as I didn’t know your preferences ❤️

TW: BDSM Dynamics | Emotional over-load | Sensory over-load | Ambiguous ages | Daddy kink

Peter had always been sensitive. At least in terms of physically. He had a thick metaphorical skin; giving as good as Flash or any other bully could give. But he’d always preferred the softer fabrics, the dimmer lights, that one spot on his bed where it was ‘sinkier’ than the rest.

Sounds always seemed louder, scents were always stronger, and the outside world was a plethora of experiences that Peter learned to grow accustomed to. It was annoying at times; painful at others, but generally something that became his normal.

So, naturally, when he was old enough to develop coping mechanisms and to understand his senses, he got bitten by a genetically modified, radioactive spider and his senses took a jump from a rough 7 to a hearty eleven.

Noises went from irritating but tolerable to deafening. Scents overwhelmed him and choked his throat and god. Lights. He could see every fucking headlight in New York. Tony Stark could laugh all he wanted at the $10 tinted goggled Peter had velcroed onto his suit, but for Peter they were the $800 Gucci shades that hid Tony’s hangover.

Being touched; though. Peter wouldn’t have expected that to be affected by the bite, but he both yearned for it and shied away. Aunt May’s acrylic nails catching on his arm was like a pin being dragged. Tony’s broad palm on his back sent rocket-speed signals to his dick.

Peter could cloak himself in all the gold-titanium alloy and $615,000 lenses he wanted. There was no escaping that particular problem. Not when 12 hour stints in the workshop ended with takeout on the couch, not when being driven home by Happy became being driven home by Tony. Not when the odd shoulder-check or pat on the back became lingering strokes, squeezes, Tony’s body against his as they grinned down at their latest project like proud parents.

The first time Tony kissed him, Peter actually came in his pants like a thirteen year old just hitting puberty. Gasped and mewled into Tony’s mouth, whole body locking up and mind going entirely blank but for TonyTonyTony in a sharp, white flash. Tony had caught him as he fell, startled and amused both, a witty quip on the tip of his tongue.

It had been shortly after that in which peter had been forced to admit he only jerked off once a month on average, because it was so incredibly intense that it usually took him out for a good hour or two afterwards. And that was to say nothing of the dildo under his bed.

And Tony…Tony had crowded him up against the wall, still supporting his weight, eyes dark and lips turned up into a lethal smirk. Fuck, kid. That’s so hot. Look at you, still shaking like a newborn colt. So intense, baby. Bet I could make you cry just from my mouth.

Peter’s (pleasure) pain was Tony’s favourite game. Laying on their stomachs on the fur rug, Tony’s arms wrapped around his hips and holding him down, listening to Peter’s screams get higher in pitch as dark pink stubble burn spread over his ass and thighs. Crowding him against a wall, squeezing firm between his legs, timing the space between Peter’s surprised yelp and his body dropping as he came.

Peter had blacked out the first time Tony fingered him, two thick, long digits spreading him open, rubbing relentlessly against that little pit of pleasure until he’d arched off the bed, eyes rolling, gasping even as he flopped limp into Tony’s arms. He’d woken up to Tony cooing at him, body wiped clean and tucked under the sheets in his arms.

Sex stopped there. And fingering was infrequent, at best. Though Tony’s favourite way to torture him; the older man took pity on how thoroughly it wiped him out and left it for ‘special occasions’ like Peter winning first place at the Regional Science Expo. Eating out, handjobs, blowjobs, grinding and a variety of other play was still fair game, however.

And as much as Peter dreaded finding out just how fucked over (heh) he’d be when he got fucked…He wanted.

Wrapping his fingers around Tony’s thick, long cock he wanted it buried up to his teeth. Suckling around it and listening to Tony’s moans, he wanted to feel it dragging along his insides. Grinding against it, feelings its weight on his hip, he wanted to ride it until they were both shaking.

So like any good strategist, he came up with a plan. Operation Fucked By Tony came into play the night that Stark Industries celebrated its 18th consecutive year of Business of The Year, Engineering Business of The Year and several other titles that rolled across a massive hologram screen in slow succession.

The moment they were alone in the penthouse, the party having moved to a local bar, Peter shoved Tony up against the elevator door with a soft whine and a slow grin. “Mmph, look at you. My big boss Daddy. Dominating the world” he hummed proudly, fingers already dipping to the button on Tony’s Tom Ford, hips rolling slowly forwards to ride the soft curve of Tony’s cock, which twitched against his hip in interest as the billionaire reached down, grasping his hips with an easy, confident smile.

“Only thing I wanna dominate is you, baby. You looked so good tonight, your little Industries badge and your suit” Tony purred back at him, fingers digging against his hipbones the way he knew would make Peter’s eyelashes flutter, pulling him closer until they were rocking together lazily, encouraging their partner into full hardness.

Peter pushed to his tip-toes, wasted no time in distracting Tony with his tongue. The older man gave a pleased sound against his mouth as Peter licked into him, teeth catching on his lower lip, the corners of his mouth already stinging with stubble marks. “Want you” Peter breathed against Tony’s teeth as the older man bared them on a pleasured snarl, hitching Peter higher up his body.

“Mm’kay, sweetheart. Anything for you. What do you want, hm? Want me to blow you, baby? Let you fuck my throat? Or do you want me to fuck you with my tongue, baby? See how quick I can make you cry?” Tony breathed against his ear, nuzzled into the soft curve of his jaw as he reached down, dragging his nails over Peter’s clothed thighs in a way that made the boy shudder and whine, fingers digging into Tony’s side as he fought the sparks of pleasure that threatened to short his senses completely.

“No. Want you. Wanna feel you; properly. Want you stuffed up inside me, filling me up. Want you to breed me with your cum and-” that was as far as Peter got, words cutting off with a sharp whelp as Tony practically threw him upwards into his arms, pushing at Peter’s legs to get them wrapped low on his hips as he squeezed him, sinking his teeth into the junction of Peter’s neck with an almost feral growl.

“Sweetheart” the older man rasped, clearly struggling to contain himself. Tony breathed out shakily over the indent of his teeth, soothing it apologetically with his tongue. “You can’t - Baby. You know it’ll be too much. And for once; that isn’t even my ego talking” Tony hushed, though it didn’t stop him from weighing Peter hips down, riding the plump curve of his ass with a quaking groan.

“Daddy” Peter whined petulantly, scrabbling at Tony’s shoulders, peppering desperate kisses along his jaw, grinding in a sloppy rhythm as little fireworks went off inside his brain. “Want it. Waited too long. You looked so fucking good out there. My Daddy; ruling the world” Peter panted, dragging one hand down between their stomachs, wiggling it between their hips until he could grope the thick bulge beneath him, relishing in the way Tony’s hips stuttered against his hand, eyes dark as coal when Tony tipped his head to look up at him.

Tony took several moments pause to decide, clearly battling between his concerns and the way Peter curled his fingers around his cock, stroking in bare fractions, teasing little rubs that had Tony pushing carefully away from the wall and towards the bedroom.

They undressed in a startling contrast to how they had begun; slow and lazy. Tony kissed and licked every inch of skin he revealed; swatting at Peter’s hands whenever the impatient boy tried to speed him up, or whenever the little sucks were sharpened with a gentle nip of his teeth. By the time Peter was naked he was squirming and flushed, hard as rock and already on the verge of cumming.

“I might not make it if you don’t fuck me within the next ten minutes” Peter panted, fingers curling hard in the silk sheets. Tony chuckled above him, braced on his palms as he looked down at Peter with a lustful gaze. Peter was around to prompt him again when Tony ducked down, kissing him so deeply that it stole his breath and left his lips wet when they parted.

“Sweetheart, if you make it at all, I’m gonna be proudly surprised” Tony huffed back at him, fond and teasing even as he leaned over Peter’s body and made for the healthy stash of lube that took up the middle drawer. Peter tried not to anticipate it, but it was hard (pun intended) not to as he spread his legs, felt Tony’s hands sliding slowly up his thighs, sticky fingers kept away from his skin.

He was trembling by the time Tony ran a fingertip lightly over his hole, sucking in a sharp breath, stomach muscles contracting. Tony cooed at him soothingly as he shifted, begun to push his finger inside on a slow, steady motion. Peter threw his head back, lips parting soundlessly even though it was nothing more than an index finger.

Tony crawled up his body, still knuckle-deep and kissed at his collarbones gently, trying to distract him as he pumped his finger, a bare fraction at first, but speeding up when it became clear Peter wasn’t gonna pass our or blow his load. The boy forced himself to breathe evenly, petting intently at Tony’s hair as he tried to keep his focus. It was nice; the steady drag, the slight resistance of his own velvet heat.

The gentle pressure of a second had him hitching his body up the bedding, held in place only by Tony sinking his teeth gently into his collarbone with a soft hum. His body held firm, and then gave all at once, swallowing Tony’s second finger greedily, sucking it into the tighthotwet softness of his body. Peter’s whine was smothered by Tony’s mouth as the older man kissed him, free hand petting at his hip. “Daddy’s got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you”.

Tony scissored him open slowly, careful and educated curls and spreads of his fingers that had Peter’s hips hitching up, rutting against Tony’s flank and chewing on his tongue in desperation. He felt like a live-wire, strung out and ready to explode. He could hear in ultra-definition the sharp little pants Tony breathed, the stutter of his heart, the thrum of electricity all around them, like a living being.

His senses were hitting that just-before-white-noise level, but he ignored it in favour of crying out as a third finger spread him wide, more than he’d ever taken. For a moment there’s nothing but white noise and the way he felt obscenely spread wide, gaping. And then there was Tony and his low voice and the slight ache of his ass being stuffed full and stretched open.

“Oh, baby” Tony rasped, and fuck. They’d barely done anything but Tony sounded fucked out already, free hand moving from his hips to cradle his head like he was fragile glass, pausing his movements until Peter’s heart no longer threatened to tear his ribcage apart. The encompassing blanket of soundtouchheatskinstretchscentlights became something a little easier to differentiate, Tony’s body an anchor he scrabbled at breathlessly, before he nodded.

“I’m good. Please. Wanna -” He cut off on a stressed out hiccup, nails dragging down Tony’s spine in a way that made the older man arch and hiss, eyes going molten as he carefully eased his fingers out of Peter’s writhing body, reaching for the lube again. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Daddy, please” Peter whined, fighting off the way his nose begun to sting with the scents, the headache that begun dull and heavy at the sounds and the intense physical sensations.

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay. Breathe for me, darling, okay? Breathe for Daddy. Iiiiiin, and oouuuut. Good. So perfect, sweetheart”. Tony coached him as he lubed up his cock, voice hitching and lashes dipping as he curled his fist around himself, stroking in slow but firm jerks. He was painfully hard and Peter felt guilty for needing so much time to prepare.

They didn’t need a condom. Tony and Peter had been exclusive for almost a year now, and Tony had been clean the day they’d first made it a ‘thing’. The bite also meant that Peter couldn’t carry diseases of most types, including sexual. He’d been tested; just the make sure, but it had come up as a neat blank for everything.

Tony positioned himself carefully between Peter’s thighs, doing nothing for the longest time but hovering over him and kissing him slowly, sweetly. It helped to somewhat dull the building avalanche of sensations, allowed Peter to focus solely on the scrape of Tony’s stubble, the wet taste of his mouth, the space between them filled with rapidly cooling air.

He’d almost, almost forgotten where they were until Tony shifted, sunk down into the space between their bodies, until his hips forced Peter’s thighs apart and the blunt, thick head of his cock just lay at Peter’s slick, red hole. Peter gave a whole-body jolt at that, teeth sinking into Tony’s lip none too gently, fingers squeezing around Tony’s biceps with only enough conscious thought not to break them.

Tony paused, but Peter shook his head, then nodded, unsure of what signal would engage keep going and not stop. Thankfully Tony seemed to get it, a sightless presence behind Peter’s tightly shut eyes as he begun to nudge forwards, seemingly millimetre by millimetre.

After what seemed like an age, he could feel when his body couldn’t bend any further, and begun to spread. Opening in an agonisingly slow movement around Tony’s thick cock, opening and aching and thick pressure that had him half-screaming, muffling his mewls into Tony’s shoulder as he gripped at him, knees digging into Tony’s ribs where his legs had wrapped around him of their own accord.

It clearly pained Tony, the boy aware enough to notice his wince, but Peter couldn’t find the brain capacity to loosen his hold, couldn’t do or think anything beyond openstretchingachingwantinghurtingtoomuchnotenoughtony.

“Peter” Tony gasped, breath forced from his lungs as he buried himself inside the boy with a jolt, eyes lanced with pain as Peter clung to him, eyes rolling and entire body curved and tense, arching up against Tony and trembling violently with the force of it. Distantly, Peter was aware Tony had spoken. But he couldn’t focus on anything except the crippling array of noises around him, the scent of the washing powder mixed with the chemicals in the lube and the tint of Tony’s sweat. The burning hotness that pulsed through his body, the rattle of his own breath in his lungs.

White. Dark.

Hot. Too hot. Too numb to be hot.

Gaping open. Split in half. Impaled.

The vague awareness of sound. Desperate sound. Wet sound.

Blank.

The first thing that came back to him was the rasped sound of his inhale, the drag of air over his tongue and between his teeth. Shuddered and greedy, because the next awareness was how tight and sore his chest felt, like he’d been holding his breath. Everything ached and hurt like it did after a battle, but there was also something floating in that murky darkness, something familiar and comforting.

Piece by piece, things came back. Intense but not as crippling as before. The salt of tears. The tackiness of drying water on his skin. Skin on skin. The softness of the sheets, unmarred by their activities. The low, thrumming background noise became a voice, low and rumbled in his ear, senseless words that soothed him nonetheless.

It felt like surfacing from being buried alive. Crawling up that last foot of mountain. Breathing after drowning. He lay there for a while, nothing but a breathing body in a state of semi-consciousness, before the first word fought through the haze of his mind, followed by each one after like a progression of soldiers.

“Peter, sweetheart. You did so well. I’m so sorry, can you breathe in again for me? That’s it, darling. So good. My precious baby. Daddy’s here for you. Not letting you go. In and out, baby. You’re so good, darling. And again. That’s it, Peter”.

Tony.

Opening his eyes hurt, left him squinty and shrinking away from the dim room, but it lent him a sense of orientation. He was on the bed, under a thin silk sheet, and curled against Tony’s body, cradled carefully like a doll. Tony was still talking, and when Peter found the brain function to tilt his head, Tony was gazing at him intensely, caught between concern and love.

“Hey, darling. Welcome back. You kinda did a little power down, but that’s okay. You did so well, so good for your first time” Tony greeted him softly, passing a cold cloth over his brow.

A power down?

He pieced it together, from the fragments his muddled brain could shove forwards. He remembered the building crescendo, the blinding force of TonyTonyTony and then…Nothing. The power down. He’d blacked out.

“You were shaking and crying, darling. Kept shouting my name and moving like a cat that didn’t wanna be held. You said it was too bright and too loud. I tried to pull out without hurting you, sweetheart, but I still put some cream on you, just in case” Tony soothed, petting at his hair, brushing it from his eyes.

Peter couldn’t even feel embarrassed, too tangled up and exhausted to do anything but let his head fall back to Tony’s shoulder, eyes falling shut on a heaved, jagged breath.

“That’s okay, darling. If you want to nap, you take a nap. I’ll be right here, sweetheart. Not gonna go anywhere. Take a deep breath, baby. That’s it. So good for me, Peter. Such a good boy for Daddy. Get some rest now. I won’t leave you” Tony continued, petting at him in feather-light touches, his own chest rising and falling against Peter in a series of slow, even movements. Exaggerated until Peter’s body fell into rank.

He would be embarrassed later, when he woke up from a six hour ‘nap’ to Tony still curled around him, glasses on and nose-deep in a Stark Industries document. But Tony would hear none of it, pulling his hands from his face and peppering him with a litany of soft, sweet kisses, cuddling him close and refusing to relent until Peter was breathless and giggling, still raw and sensitive but calm, contained.

Two months and a lot of practice and training later, Peter would lay under Tony on his birthday, eyes rolling and Tony’s name a broken prayer on his tongue, hips jolting as he came between their stomachs with the force of an avalanche, conscious and aware throughout it all, jerking with every white-hot spark of pleasure, every low, guttural moan in his ear.

It was worth every incident thereafter of Tony boasting about ‘dick so good it knocks them out’.

[faerytale-au]

A Darkness Lingers Pt.2

Word Count: 6,750 Fourth Prompt Place: During and After “Promises and Tokens” Rating: M TW: Mentions of Past Abuse Cross Posted Here Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Instead of crying or letting the hurt get to her she chose to sit on the couch, and before she knew it she was being called. “FRISK?” 

She jerked in place, snapping from the daze she’d been unknowingly aiming at the wall. Forcing a smile she glanced up at Papyrus, a curious tilt of her head somehow only deepening the uncharacteristic frown on his face.

“YOUR MAGIC IS ALL OVER THE PLACE, IS SOMETHING WRONG?” Instead of answering she flicked her eyes over to the front door. Papyrus followed the look before letting out a deep sigh.

Papyrus smiled as he took a seat beside her. “IF YOU NEED TO TALK YOU KNOW I AM A VERY DILIGENT LISTENER MY DEAR SISTER.” 

Like he wanted the gentle use of her new title made her smile more genuine. He could see a fragment of the tension ease from her shoulders as she looked down at the ruby ring on her hand, a concentrated furrow of her brows making his smile nearly falter.

“Were you…” She paused thoughtfully. “Do you miss your dad?” 

Papyrus didn’t move, didn’t so much as breathe as he looked at her. After a moment his hands, resting unassuming on his knees, curled into tight fists even as the rest of him remained loose and relaxed in appearance.

His tone fought to keep it’s cheerful inflection. “SOMETIMES!” 

And then it was hard to keep his voice steady. “Other times…”

Frisk watched as Papyrus glanced away from her, his teeth pressing together firmly as his sockets dipped with a softness she couldn’t decide on being sadness or affection. When he spoke he still kept his gaze averted, locked on a bit of peeling wallpaper he hadn’t noticed before.

Redecorating was definitely on the agenda.

“Truth Be Told...I Don’t Really Remember My Father Too Well. If There’s Anyone Who I’d Worry About Missing Him, It’d Be Sans.” 

Frisk didn’t comment, and Papyrus looked back over with a timid smile. “They Were Really Close. Well Maybe Close Isn’t Right...They Both Had A Habit Of Acting Close But Being Distant. Only When They Told Me Stories Of Mom Did They Seem...Not Far Apart.” 

“Sans hasn’t ever mentioned your mother.” Frisk frowned curiously. She was sure he hadn’t, trying to think over their many conversations she couldn’t even recall a moment where he might’ve hinted at her.

Papyrus chuckled so quietly she could’ve almost mistaken the laughter for Sans’s. “I’m Not Surprised. Her Passing Was Always A Sensitive Subject.” 

Frisk hesitated but decided to risk asking. “What happened?” 

Like a switch had been flipped a haunted look flew over the Seelie’s expression, Papyrus’s sockets dulling and turning a shade darker than she knew they could ever go. He shut them and in a very high falsetto he forced his words out.

“I Killed Her.” 

Frisk thought her heart stopped.

“Her Soul Shattered While Giving Life To Me.” All she could do was stare at the floor. Frisk couldn’t think of what to say, what reassurances to give. How do you comfort someone when you hadn’t the first clue as to how they were feeling?

“I’m sorry you lost her like that…but it wasn’t your fault at all Papyrus.” 

“HMM MY BROTHER OFTEN TELLS ME THE SAME THING. AND WHILE IT MAY BE TRUE...That Doesn’t Change My Personal Feelings On The Matter. IT’S JUST SOMETHING I’VE LEARNED TO DEAL WITH.” Frisk had to blink back the tears that wanted to fall from her eyes. Papyrus always seemed so cheerful and upbeat, she never would have guessed he held such pain close to his heart. 

“Why do you think that?” 

Here Papyrus hesitated. “Because...I’m Certain If She Hadn’t Died Our Father Would’ve Never Went Down The Path He Did…Our Lives Would Be Very Different.” 

He sounded oddly like her; if she had tried harder to be good maybe dad would have loved her, if she had been a little more quiet, more invisible, maybe her mother would have cared. Maybe Frisk’s life could have been different from what it was now. They were thoughts she used to have constantly and that sometimes still plagued her at night.

Frisk didn’t like hearing something so similar coming from Papyrus.

She didn’t know what to say. Why did she never know what to say?

“Would you be happy...having your father back?”

Papyrus looked thoughtful, his expression scrunched in concentration as he thought on Frisk’s question with the most honesty he could give. He eventually shook his head and let out a huff of air.

“I’M NOT SURE. BUT I THINK SANS WOULD. STUBBORN TO ADMIT IT HE MAY BE. BUT THE PAST IS THE PAST THERE’S NO CHANGING THAT, IT’S SOMETHING WE HAVE TO ACCEPT.”

And little did he know Papyrus had just made a decision for her. Maybe...she could repay them both by offering what she had never had herself back in her world.

“Thank you Papyrus. Talking helped.” They both looked at each other in a soft and comfortable silence, his sockets taking on a less darkened hue as he unclenched his fists. 

He pulled her into an unexpected hug. “ANYTIME!” 

Frisk stiffened on instinct, her expression becoming awash with shock before she slowly smiled and hugged him back. Papyrus was the greatest Seelie she knew next to her husband, and he deserved everything, they both did.

~~

Sans barely saw the grove in front of him from the ring of mushrooms; his mind was wandering and his sockets were bottomless pits. He hadn’t wanted to leave Frisk the way he had, he already felt so guilty over it, but he...couldn’t take another second talking about his old man.

It was a given he would’ve had to tell Frisk eventually. But he had wanted to do it on his own time and terms, he hadn’t wanted the reason to be because the Unseelie was plotting something. 

Sans had wanted to live with Frisk in ignorance for just a bit longer.

Now all he could think about was not only how to explain his other job to his wife, but what preparations he’d have to take to prevent whatever drawback Gaster’s sudden activity would cause.

He was silently cursing himself, he was usually better prepared than this.

“Your foolish fancies will get you into trouble one day.”

The last time he’d seen Gaster in person... 

How long had it been exactly? Sans couldn’t remember. He hadn’t tried too, in fact he’d gone out of his way not to think about him. But now alone and sitting with nothing to distract him his thoughts took over...the memories he’d long repressed surfaced.

He could remember vividly how angry and hurt his father had been, the way he had sounded when he’d spoken in a voice not entirely his own to condemn Gaster for what he knew was the greater good, and how broken that had made both him and his still very young and impressionable brother.

Papyrus had suffered from nightmares for years after witnessing the fight that had broken out, Sans still suffered from them on occasion with flashbacks to boot, but he handled them better now and as far as he knew Papyrus didn’t even have them anymore.

But that didn’t mean the wounds were no longer there.

Sans shut his sockets, and all he could see was how Gaster’s gaze had turned vicious and loathing when Sans had told him he was selfish. Gaster’s shock when he’d accused his old man of loving only himself without regard to his family and those around him.

Gaster had been many things...always cold, standoffish, hard to relate too. But even then Sans had known in his youth, his father had been different deep down. He had been kind, patient, and always full of a tame but strong energy that he had little doubt wasn’t where Papyrus got his own wild flame from.

Papyrus ironically took after the old bones, both of them had difficulties socially, both of them had more to them than others typically saw or bothered to look for. Sans was sure if Gaster had been there for all the years he missed, he would’ve likely loosened up and been softer, Papyrus too would have learned more decorum.

It wasn’t hard to imagine.

At least with how Gaster had been before...

There wasn’t a night where Sans hadn’t questioned if he’d done the right thing. A day where he wondered where everything had gone wrong. And Frisk had reminded him of that so painfully he had almost snapped.

He couldn’t...handle admitting his doubts.

Gaster had been his first Unseelie case, and he could still remember being horrified as his father had morphed from the corruption right in front of him and Papyrus both. His little brother in tears as Gaster’s arms had melted and evaporated away leaving behind nothing but floating hands and how his face had grotesquely cracked in a bone rattling snarl.

His father hadn’t even looked like himself anymore.

It had been too much for such a young child to see, it had been to much for himself, and it had been traumatizing in how it had made Sans wonder if he’d look like that if he ever let his own darkness take over. If Papyrus…

Sans had hated Gaster in that moment.

It had killed a part of Sans when he’d flung him through the Unseelie gate; his soul threatening to fracture under the sorrow he’d felt at the shock and surprise in his father’s gaze right before the doors had slammed shut behind him, it had also been relieving.

But Gaster had stopped caring, had stopped being the Seelie he and Paps had once so admired. He’d been a fae dedicated to family, a Seelie sought after not only for his dedicated work ethic but also for his wit when it came to negotiating and deal making.

Gaster had been the very image of their society, no less than the Queen herself.

So his darkness as it had consumed him had been not only a blow to Sans and his sibling but to their world as a whole. There wasn’t a soul alive that didn’t know about the Seelie’s fall from grace, that didn’t get told of Gaster not as someone to idolize but as a cautionary tale.

The day he’d emerged from his lab donning that haunting eye piece, his eyelight wide and pulsing with a silent victory Sans had felt sick, could tell something was off. He’d seemed so mad, entirely out of his skull with knowledge and insidious intent that had made it hard for Sans to even breathe.

Could he have done something then?

If he had tried, could he have kept Gaster on the right path?

But more than anything Sans now silently wondered...why after all this time? Why appear now and go after Frisk? Gaster never pursued anything unless it had been to his benefit or to that of his ambition.

A protective anger flared in Sans’s soul.

Was it revenge? A way to escape? As much as Sans tried he couldn’t think of a valid reason or guess the intent behind his father’s sudden interest. If he didn’t already know the drawback to going into the Unseelie realm Sans would’ve been there already confronting the other.

He refused to let Gaster ruin anything else with his greed.

A small stinging sensation tugged at Sans’s chest, pulling him from his thoughts as his eyelights came back with a harsh flare. 

He clutched at his chest with a frown before pulling back his sleeve to stare down at his wedding bracelet. The moonstones along the back of it were lit up a furious red, oscillating between different shades and tones, but all meaning the same thing.

An image, sheer and thin like looking through lace flashed in his mind.

Golden doors, a hesitant step...

Frisk was before one of the gates...an Unseelie gate.

Sans felt his soul quiver, the magic between his joints tightening in panic as sweat coated his skull. She was trying to not only leave the realm but to open a gate to the corrupted fae? A possibility so logical and most likely true made him sick.

She had said she wanted to help Gaster.

Had he messed up? 

Again?

Sans never should’ve been harsh to her that morning, he had never acted that way with her before, of course he would’ve upset her. Of course she’d rebel against him when he was so out of character with her. 

Panic, thick and unrelentingly harsh overcame him.

He was back through the gate and rushing to shortcut in a single breath as guilt and worry shot a bolt of ice down his spine. 

He prayed he wasn’t too late.

~~

Frisk was uncertain as she stood at the abandoned post, her mouth dry and chest heaving with thick breaths. She already knew Gaster was standing on the other side, waiting. His presence she could feel like a weight on her chest.

He’d known she’d show hadn’t he?

She swallowed thickly, she didn’t know if she could even open the gate, but she was more than sure if she did not only would Sans know, but every Seelie in the realm would too. 

A glance up at the thick bells hanging ominously above her made her heart give a painful skip in her chest. There were so many it felt like, but in reality only six stood guard, three to either side of the arch overhanging the entrance. All wide enough that Frisk imagined if one were to fall it could encompass a whole village in it’s depths.

Her eyes drifted down to a pair of hand prints embedded within the golden doors, one on each side of the doors seam. The tiny indentations were like specks to it’s immense stature but Frisk could feel the powerful magic swirling out from them like a hot breeze, coiling and calling with a phantom caress.

She shut her eyes as she tried to get her breathing under control.

“Second thoughts?” Frisk’s eyes snapped open and she frowned as she looked down at her hands, wispy sparks of muted fire tracing along her palms and fingers, as if her magic was trying to soothe her.

“I...need your word.”

Gaster was silent, but soon his voice was echoing in her mind again. “Has my son not taught you the dangers of an Unseelie deal?”

Frisk clenched her hands and let them fall to her sides as she stared ahead, her eyes boring into the door as if she could see Gaster just behind it smirking at her. But she refused to let his words antagonize her. 

This was a front for him, she felt it in her soul, she’d seen there was more to him.

“He has, but I’m willing to bet you would never truly harm those you call family.” She couldn’t see him, but the sudden thickening of the air around her told of his annoyance...and his power. If he could cause such such a shift locked in another realm there was no doubt he could cause unfathomable damage when present. She wanted to believe in him, truly she did, but she wasn’t naive enough to overlook his taint.

“...What do you ask of me?”

“I know better than that Gaster, I know how deals work, your word or I walk away.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“...Place one hand to the door…” Nervousness made a knot form in Frisk’s stomach but she managed to take another step forward, careful to avoid touching the spot her hand was to rest when opening the gate she pressed her palm flat and firmly to the smooth surface. 

Warmth and chill mixed, curling like ghostly tendrils through the thick door to wrap her fingers and wrist. It stung, burned her flesh enough that she hissed painfully. It had never felt like this when she’d made a deal before; like her hand was slowly blistered and then quickly dunked into freezing water.

His magic was this potent?

“For my freedom, voice your request.”

Her heart hammering Frisk spoke slowly, “You are not to bring harm or death to a single soul in this realm.” 

The air became suffocating, laced with bitterness and fury so engulfing Frisk covered her mouth and nose to keep from choking on the suddenly foul air. The magic binding her hand nearly had her knees give out with how intensely it constricted around her. 

She’d angered him, but just as quickly as that anger had come it just as quickly soothed and withdrew. The overpowering feeling in her arm was still there but had gone down to a dulled throb.

“...Is that all you demand?” The curious tone in his voice had her shoulders hunching suspiciously. 

She took a second to think over her words and was sure there were no loopholes or room for him to betray their deal, but she was still learning. Hesitantly she chose to say something else instead of trying to add to her conditions, something told her she needed to.

“That’s all I ask of you...as family.”

For a moment it felt as if Gaster had softened, something warm and yet sad filling the bond being manifested between them. If she could see him, she’d have seen how haunted he looked, how empty and bitter he was.

Gaster was to be denied even his vengeance.

...For family…

How manipulative, and thoughtful.

“I see now just how perfect for my son you are.” 

Frisk wasn’t given the chance to respond as an acidic burn of pain shot up her arm and straight into her chest, sending her vision tunneling as her soul was constricted and squeezed in the onslaught of a corrupted deal struck.

Gaster felt her try to topple but his magic still scorching itself in an unseen contract kept her up and firmly on her feet. He couldn’t help the smirk on his face. The repercussions and consequences from what she’d just done caused her to suffer, which pleased the darkness in his soul.

It was just punishment for the rules she’d just imposed on him.

When he could sense the tie on her being firmly in place he released her.

Frisk crumpled, fell painfully to her knees, and tried to keep her balance by resting her hands and forehead against the doors where she panted as if she’d just ran a marathon. In all her years she’d never felt something so nasty and horrible as what had just happened.

It was almost as if she’d dirtied herself…

“Quickly now, I highly doubt my eldest didn’t feel the violation to your soul.” 

Violation?

She must’ve said it out loud because Gaster answered, “An unfortunate side effect. I can explain more after you hold up your end to our agreement.” 

Swallowing down what felt like cotton Frisk pushed shakily to her feet and narrowed her eyes at the door’s seal. Taking another deep breath she moved her hands into the imprinted grooves and let out a gasp as her palms settled almost perfectly into them. 

A cool breeze, comforting and warm wrapped around her as her magic flared to engulf her hands and rapidly climb her body. Flames that didn’t burn or singe flowed around her and flared into a fiery typhoon, whipping her clothing and hair as if she was caught in a hurricane.

“That’s it! Focus Frisk.” Gaster’s encouraging call echoed.

She squeezed her eyes shut as they began to burn, tears running from their corners only to be lifted into the air in a bizarre loss of gravity. The air distorted and bent, a heatwave or time magic rapidly grew the grass at her feet and wilted it before reverting it rapidly to a youthful green.

She--she didn’t know if she go on--the doors gave but it felt like her energy was a battery, fluctuating between full and powerful to weak and drained--

No! 

She...she could do this!

Frisk could set Gaster free; she could give Papyrus and Sans their father back. She could prove she was more than just Sans’s wife and a human, she was capable of so much more than sitting around day in and out with nothing but the worry and fear of being a burden that being a mage brought.

She could prove she was more than anyone had ever given her credit for.

Frisk cried so loudly her voice rose above the ringing the bells began to give as she poured all her frustration and deep buried regret into pushing the door’s apart. Foul wind and diseased air bathed her in cascading flows of evil intent that made her almost collapse with nausea.

Another inch--

And she fell, her magic going out as the doors swung wide enough Gaster reached forward and caught her easily. Moving quickly he passed the entry way and glared back at the feral Unseelie that had been alerted, their charging forms barely visible before Gaster coalesced his magic and slammed the doors back shut with a resounding crack of thunder.

Frisk was gasping and barely coherent as Gaster knelt with her and pressed his forehead to her own. She shivered as a feeling pushed in and started to replenish her but nearly made her gag at the bile it raised in the back of her throat.

Despite how gross it felt her breathing evened out, and thankfully Gaster pulled back before standing fully again. His hold on her only released once he was sure she could stand without shaking. It took her a second to get her thoughts straight but once they were she looked up at him cautiously.

“Thank you.” He hummed before turning.

Frisk froze.

Sans was still and at a distance but his whole frame tensed the moment his eyelights locked with Gaster. She watched as his sockets narrowed in disbelief and his grin trembled at the edges.

Gaster looked amused.

Her heart dropped. 

Frisk felt the air take on a sudden chill, ice spiraling out from the bottoms of Sans’s feet to coat the ground as the wind picked up and billowed his cloak and clothing. Her husband’s smile, so often soft and adoring, suddenly widened and...felt as if it went empty of all feeling.

A bolt raced down her spine as his eyelights snuffed out, the left socket flaring bright like a raging inferno lit up with yellow and blue light coalescing violently in hostile intent. She was shocked as Sans spoke with the voice that she heard in her dream.

“Y O U  D O N ‘ T  B E L O N G  H E R E.” 

Gaster’s smirk dropped. 

“Sans wait please!” Frisk tried but her plea died in her throat as he glanced over at her, the weight of the power she could feel in his gaze suffocating and stalling her thoughts. 

It felt like he was seeing right through her.

Frisk locked in place, her and Sans both staring at each other with vastly different expressions and intent. There was apprehension and...she didn’t have a name for the way his face shone with false warmth in his smile but yet felt so condemning.

She didn’t know rather to be afraid...or worried.

Gaster took the opportunity to slip an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side, the abrupt motion jarring her enough into breaking eye contact as she looked up at Gaster.

It seemed to be enough to affect Sans.

Instantly his eyelight went out and he looked absolutely petrified as the whirling wind of his magic died. The sight of his wife in his deranged father’s arms sent such a painful spike through his soul that he had to fight not to let the magic in his joints constrict.

“don’t you dare--” Gaster gave a dismissive snort.

“So, it seems the risk to her well-being is what can temper you, duly noted.” Frisk tensed but the reassuring rub of his thumb into her shoulder relaxed her. The gesture was unexpected and it confused her how such warmth could come from him while he still glared Sans down, bitterness and cold detachment livid in his one good socket.

Sans glanced over at her and then back to Gaster, like hell he’d risk Frisk’s life for his job let alone his anger. 

His demeanor became forced as he hitched his grin higher in one corner and held his hands up in a shrug. “no need to get so handsy, why don’t we go ahead and sit down for a talk. seelie were we can compromise?” 

Frisk perked up hopefully but Gaster wasn’t fooled by the sudden attitude change. He could see his son’s tell with the magical sweat drop that subtly slid down the side of his skull. 

Unlike Papyrus, Sans wasn’t good under pressure, it’s why he so often relied on his magical abilities when push came to shove in high tension situations.

An unfortunate flaw in his eldest.

“Your acting is about as poor as your puns, lacking in dedication and effort,” Sans’s expression darkened. “Rather disappointing given our race. But not nearly as disappointing as the thought you’d honestly believe me capable of intentionally hurting my daughter-in-law.” 

It took Sans a moment to register Gaster’s words and slowly his body unwound as he blinked in confusion. Of course he thought that, if he could betray both him and Papyrus when they were younger, what was stopping him from hurting Frisk who he didn’t even know?

Sans wasn’t stupid.

Frisk took a deep breath and her voice was gentle.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by bringing Gaster here.” Sans’s skull whipped in her direction and he looked as if she’d slapped him but she continued, her eyes bright with her determination that it kept him rooted to the spot in which he stood. 

“He just...misses you and Papyrus, his home. Don’t you miss him too?” 

Slowly Sans’s eyelights panned over to his old man’s face, and the slight twitch of his frown, the way he had a hand absently adjust his monocle was telling. If only Sans couldn’t see the grudge his father still carried on his soul he might have relented.

But Gaster’s sins were countless.

He looked back over to Frisk, his kindhearted and stubborn wife, with a gaze soft but somber. It was too late for what she was trying to accomplish. Gaster was banished, an Unseelie who refused to give up the very conviction that corrupted him. 

A Fae that had sacrificed everything that should have been precious.

“frisk--you can’t save him.” 

She looked ready to defy him but he cut her off. “surely even he’s told you that.” He shot Gaster a glare. “my old man has always made it a point to make sure everyone knows reality from fiction.”

Gaster...looked away as his hand tightened on Frisk’s shoulder only the slightest bit. 

If he hadn’t been holding her she would have thought he was ignoring the way Sans was speaking about him, indifferent to how hurt and angry his son sounded. And though she could tell he was becoming more angry himself, more tempted to lash out still he held to his word and didn’t. 

“my old man died years ago frisk.” She could sense the ache, but it sounded so final.

Frisk looked down at her feet as she collected her thoughts before facing her husband again. Sans’s sockets were locked on Gaster but his attention was so clearly on where she was held it was impossible to miss the nervousness with which he hid his hands in his cloak. 

Seeing how distressed he was it felt as if she’d wronged him, and doubt began to settle in her chest. Was she really doing the right thing? Couldn’t everyone be saved? She didn’t know what to think.

Frisk felt herself fade out, the world turning grey and loud. Shadows both sharp and blurred ran across her vision as hopelessness and desperation struggled with the fire of her hope and fought to quench her resolve. 

She felt her body vanish.

Sans almost flinched at the cold and detached look that took over her face, it was horrifying to him how washed out her skin turned with her eyes going so dull it felt as if her soul had fled. It hit him in the most painful way to watch her wilt like a doll whose strings had been cut, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as her words.

“You saved me…” She muttered through numb lips.

And that made him question...if he actually had.

Gaster looked down at her, a mix of intrigue and surprise quirking one of his bony brows as he took in her state. It twisted Sans’s magic with disgust as he recognized the look in his father’s sockets.

no, don’t look at her with curiosity, like something to dissect, this isn’t--this wasn’t okay--

“sweetheart, that’s not the same thing, not by a long shot.” His words were hushed, gentle as if she might shatter. He wasn’t even aware that he’d gotten closer until Gaster held a hand out between them and nearly touched him. 

Sans fought not to instinctually lash out with magic and shot Gaster a deadly look, but it went ignored as his father fully turned and adjusted Frisk to face him at arm’s length. 

The longer Frisk stared at nothing and Gaster examined her the more Sans felt his anxiety grow, the more he tried to come up with a way to separate them without somehow accidentally harming her.

Eventually, “Ah, you’re traumatized. Classic dissociation associated with PTSD.”

Then Gaster did something Sans hadn’t witnessed since he was a child.

The former scientist got down on his <em>knees</em> and kept his gaze intentful and measuring as he spoke with the same authoritative voice he’d often used when he’d had to calm Sans down in his worst moments.

“Memories and feelings are just the mind’s way of storing information. None of that applies to the here and now, you don’t need to remember Frisk. Focus.” 

”Family is everything Sans, greater than even yourself, never forget that.”

Sans felt his soul give a violent thrum and he had to do everything he could not to take his sockets off of Frisk. He hadn’t thought back on his father’s encouraging words in years. But now it was all he could think about as Gaster worked to bring his wife out of her stupor. 

The doubt he’d carried all this time in the back of his skull came to the forefront.

Had Gaster...wavered in his depraved dedication? Was he changing? Had he...ever changed really? It was so hard to believe anything else as Frisk’s eyes slowly began to brighten, and her lashes fluttered away her daze.

Sans felt his stance on his father give.

Frisk sucked in a breath as her body lit up with warmth and her mind slowly cleared. She was confused to see Gaster kneeling in front of her but that quickly turned into mild embarrassment as he smirked at her. 

“Good.”

Soon as she was coherent Sans moved to hold her, but was met with Gaster stepping forward and blocking the way. His guard went up, and the softness Sans had felt bloom in his chest hardened upon seeing his Father’s malicious smile.

Frisk stiffened at the sudden mood shift. “Gaster, we had a deal!” 

“And we still do my dear.” He chuckled. “Nowhere did you state I couldn’t fight him.”

Frisk reached forward, her hands grasping and burying within the smoke that composed Gaster’s form as she tried her best to gain his full attention, anything to buy her precious seconds to try and convince him not to go through with the sudden whim.

Gaster however simply peered over his shoulder at her, “That’s enough of that, stop acting so childish.” and spawned a hand into being. 

“frisk!” Sans panicked and tried vainly to teleport to her but found himself frozen in place, a dark and corrupted purple surrounding and suffocating his soul. Gaster looked back towards his son with a shrug as he snapped his fingers.

Frisk’s eyes went wide as dark light erupted from the ground around her, exploding upward and encasing her in a dome of pure blackness. Her cry went muffled and silent as it formed a cocoon around her, flipping and deafening her senses. 

Sans began to sweat as he visibly struggled to break free, “F R I S K!” 

His old man had gotten stronger through the years.

Gaster took a step forward, the last five of his hands appearing and enlarging as he prepared for combat. Sans was gasping, his eyelight bright and flaring with rage. His father was unperturbed and merely looked at him boredly.

“Is that all you plan to do? Act dramatic for your human? Come, let’s see what the years have taught you my boy. Best hurry.” He gave a snide smile. “Dear Frisk has, at best fifthteen minutes of air.”

Sans’s smile went so wide it threatened to crack his skull.

He should’ve known better. He should’ve acted as soon as he’d seen Gaster had returned.

Instead Sans had let nostalgia and his worry for Frisk make him weak.

The air turned chill, frost and snow whipping into a flurry around him as he glared his father down with tears in his sockets...as his second eyelight lit up with equal power to the first. 

Gaster smirked as he easily dodged the first barrage of bones, his body morphing and shifting to allow the ring of projectiles through his form without a single scratch. He chuckled as Sans took the opportunity to break the hold his magic had on him and shortcut away.

Predictable.

The taller fae didn’t even have to turn as a frustrated cry echoed from behind him. Smirking he looked over to the shorter Seelie’s enraged snarl as a thick wall of impenetrable darkness kept him back from where Gaster held Frisk hostage.

“Fourteen minutes.” He taunted.

Sans’s shoulders slumped as if in defeat but Gaster easily sensed the pool of magic building beneath him and leapt, just barely missing a circle of sharpened bones protruding from the ground in a spray of cold fog.

“Ah, intending to actually kill me are we?” Sans slowly turned to face him, one hand still firmly pressed to the wall between him and his wife, his smile gone and replaced with a firm line.

“let her go old man. i didn’t like your games when i was a kid, and i don’t like them now.” 

Gaster frowned and leveled a cruel glare at him. “Who says I’m playing?” 

Sans vanished, the area around Gaster becoming awash in black before snapping into sharp clarity as the judge swung an elongated humerus bone. Gaster dodged with ease and the area once more turned black before returning with Sans coming down from above. 

“Your shortcut’s effects will only do so much to aid you.” He remarked as an equally cold black wall of bones spawned above him blocking his son’s blow. Shards of ice like that of shattered glass rained down, catching the glow of Gaster’s corrupted magic and reflecting it with ethereal light as he shot Sans a narrowed smirk.

“Stop being lazy.”

Sans’s eyelights flared and quicker than Gaster could blink reality dissolved and snapped back in furious and rapid succession. 

The monocle Gaster wore lit up and pulsed.

A blow aimed from the side, met with a gigantic palm.

Bones from beneath his feet while Sans struck from behind, blocked and evaded.

His son’s frustrated smile going wider as he summoned a blaster and fired only made him chuckle at how childish the Seelie’s ultimate defender looked as the powerful beams were easily absorbed by the holes in his hands.

Each time Sans tried to strike or entrap him Gaster simply thought ahead of him and prevented it, his monocle allowing him to peer moments into the course of his son’s actions to determine the best way to counter.

Gaster would be lying if he didn’t admit he was mildly disappointed.

This fight was too easy. 

The moment Sans appeared again and lunged at him, humer raised in defiance, Gaster merely glanced up and shot a hand out from the darkness of his body. 

Sans was shocked as he was locked in place, his forehead glistening with magical sweat as the hand, thoroughly cracked like a jigsaw puzzle and looked as if it was barely held together kept him from finishing his attack.

Apparently his father had seven hands instead of six. Sans wondered if he’d bothered trying to salvage it as a reminder of just how angry and bitter he was at him. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

Sans felt his arms strain as he pushed the humerus stubbornly against it.

Gaster knew he had won, all without barely lifting a finger, he could see it in the way Sans’s smile threatened to falter as it wobbled in the uppermost corner. Logically this was where he should stop. He had made a deal with Frisk after all.

But this was so tempting.

Before him was the very reason he’d been forced to suffer more than he had even when they’d all been locked in the void, the Seelie responsible for sending him to a place where he couldn’t feel the call of nature or the binding of magic that composed their very existence.

Sans could’ve purified him years ago...instead he had chosen to send him away.

He had damned him.

“I owe Frisk an apology.” He stated lowly. 

Sans’s sockets narrowed in confusion and Gaster’s smile broke into a horrifying and twisted leer as his glee and eagerness outshone the calm composure he'd maintained throughout the entire confrontation. “...For making her a widow.”

Sans barely registered the words as Gaster’s palms rose up to encircle him from all directions, their hollow centers lighting up as they prepared to eviscerate him. He went to shortcut but his soul was pinged as Gaster used his magic to cancel his own.

Pulling from his magic started to exhaust him as he summoned another rain of bones but groaned as Gaster once more scattered and shattered them before they could impact. Sans didn’t even have the energy to call another blaster.

His sockets slammed shut as he tried to think but he kept coming up short on figuring out a way to escape, his magic was racing along his leylines and he was gasping as the world went impossibly silent except for the roar of his incoming death. 

...Was..was he really this weak?

He didn’t realize he was so out of practice.

Couldn’t he manage to protect one person?

Sans opened his sockets and looked up passed the Unseelie to the wall standing between him and Frisk, his soul shuddering in agony as he envisioned her floating unconscious and vulnerable, completely at another’s mercy without anyone to help if she cried out for it.

His frisky…

His wife…

Sans could only ever fail to be there when she needed him.

A shout pulled Sans from his spiraling thoughts and he whipped his head around just in time to see a giant orange bone come flying and connect sharply with the side of his father’s skull.

Gaster was caught off guard, his body lurching and soaring with barely any effort into the wall of a building that broke and collapsed around him in a grotesque version of a fairy mound. Sans fell to his knees as Gaster’s magic broke and looked up with relief.

“hey bro...what took you so long?”

Undyne was smirking along with the rest of the guard as Papyrus slowly lowered his hand, his magic thick and undulating around him in a burnt orange aura as his cape levitated beyond gravity's hold in crusted ice.

Papyrus frowned. “HONESTLY BROTHER, YOU KNOW I DETEST FIGHTING.” 

Sans smiled, battle ready and bringing backup? 

His bro was the coolest.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Spare Room

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: On a lazy Sunday morning, you and Draco paint your spare room.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: mild angst, self doubt, fluff, kissing

You awoke to the clock chiming far too close to ear shot for your liking, laying in a position that was rather uncomfortable if you must admit it. Rather, you were more so in a tangled heap as you lay crammed in the tattered leather recliner with the very love of your life. That was more like it.

When you peek open an eye, you open them completely with a sigh at the sight before you. Sitting crooked and near broken on the very tip of Draco’s nose were the glasses he so rarely wore to read, said book on the brink of slipping and falling from his fingertips. You swiped it from his hand before it could clatter to the floor unceremoniously, tossing it on the couch not far from you. The lamp just behind you had yet to be turned off from its use the night before, it’s glowing light a bit too bright in the windows reflection as the clock rang a seventh and final time for the next hour.

Despite the lack of space to allow such things, he engulfed you in his embrace nonetheless, his chest rising and falling against you. His fingers remain loosely entwined with yours as they had been all night you assumed, his breath puffing warmly just under your ear in a way that tickled if you thought too long on it. His hair was an absolute mess of platinum that stuck every which way it had pleased, dark lashes splayed across pale skin as his legs dangled over the arm of the chair. The flannel blanket once laying over you both had just about fallen on the floor completely by that point. You can’t imagine he’d slept for long, not with the way he’d been caught up in his own mind for quite some time. For that reason, you hated to do this, but you felt as though you might just remain permanently in that dreadful position if you don’t stretch.

You release his hand and do so, a soft hum of utter relief leaving your lips at the ever so blissful feeling pulling at the tension in your body. A hum that sure enough caused him to stir from his light sleep; that, paired with your obvious jostling. His grip on you tightened then, his newly book-less hand coming up to rest just under the sweater of his that hung from your shoulders in ruffled heaps of black yarn.

“Good morning,” he mumbles half-heartedly, the coldness of his hand seeping into your skin as it rests further up on your hip.

“Good morning,” you start, squirming at the undesirable shiver it gave you, a frown on your lips, “And just where do you think you’re putting your hands?”

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, darling ,” he murmurs just behind your ear with closed eyes, though his hand splays and lays flat across your stomach now as his laugh tickles against your cheek, any traces of warmth quickly leaving you.

“Draco!”

When you try and wriggle from his grasp your attempts rapidly become futile as you fall back to his chest, trying desperately to stifle your giggles because he most certainly did not deserve the satisfaction. His sleepy smile was immediate as he looked at you, blue eyes tired but full of adoration nonetheless. It was then that you give in and laugh, shaking your head at him.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed slightly.

“You know, for being twenty-four, you’d think you would remember to take your glasses off before you go to sleep on the very rare occasion you decide to actually wear them,” you say, plucking the brown tortoise colored frames from the tip of his nose. You toss them on the couch to join the book laying there. “How very irresponsible of you.”

He narrows his tired stare at you and your wit, a frown tugging on his lips. Lips you immediately kiss with a soft smile, his halfhearted frown disappearing instantly. A sleepy hum sounded against your parted lips, his hand settling on your cheek. When you pull away all too soon his lips press to the corner of your mouth, finding himself chasing after you for more.

He sighs in dramatic exasperation, tugging you closer and tangling his legs with yours in an effort to get you to stay, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he lays his head back against the chair. You bite the inside of your cheek, holding your laughter at his antics.

“Dray, we’ve got plans today,” you say, tracing your fingertips over his chest. His brows furrowed as he continued to try and sleep.

“Do remind me, darling, just what would they be?”

“We’re painting the spare room, remember?” You kindly inform him, sitting up a bit more in your haphazard position. “You promised you’d help.”

He peeks an eye open as he stills your hand from dancing across his chest any longer, enveloping it in his own as he drops his head to the crook of your neck. You knew what was coming.

“Can’t we just enchant some paint brushes? It’s quite easy really,” he suggests in a groan, his lips pressing tenderly and tiredly up the skin of your neck, the warmth of his breath ironically giving you shivers. “I’ve got much better plans of my own.”

“To what, go to bed?” You counter, laughing softly.

“Precisely,” he agrees, the single word pressing into your skin just below your ear. “With you, might I add.”

You find yourself melting into his embrace, into the kisses proving to be far more intoxicating than you had hoped they’d be. Kisses that moved warmly from your neck to your jaw, from your jaw to your cheek, and perhaps the most delicately to your lips. They were soft and languid, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek. The feel of his lips paired with the warmth of his arms was nearly far too comfortable and spell binding for you to want to do anything other than what you had been doing. But the excitement of your plans quickly overshadowed that in that very moment.

You break from him with another peck, his lips kiss swollen and pink, dropping to a slight frown at the action. More so when you reluctantly make your leave from his arms. “This room isn’t going to paint itself.”

“Love, it most certainly can!”

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss him once more. “Get up, Dray.”

—

With a lot of complaining and yawning on Draco’s end, you’d finally gotten him to get up and help with the promise of kisses. That always works. He’d tried to enchant his paint roller on more than one occasion but you had insisted to do it by hand, it was far more meaningful that way.

Over the course of the hours you spent, the hardwood floors had since been covered in every piece of newspaper you could find in your home, scattered haphazardly and crinkled. After the first hour, you were convinced there was more paint on yourselves, on anything other than where it should be. Countless spells were used when it inevitably seeped through the paper beneath your feet and smeared over the floor. The record in the player Draco had pulled in the room had spun every song on it at least two times over, and a good thirty minutes had been lost when Draco had taken you by the hand for just one dance, as he put it. One turned to two, and two turned to three with the addition of a myriad of paint smudged kisses pressed on flushed skin and breathless laughter.

The room now smelled of fresh paint and the chilly spring breeze that had filtered in through the open window. Nearly the entirety of the four walls were painted a soft sage green, as well as the splotches smeared across Draco’s cheek in payback for the ones on yours.

You swept the paint across the last bare patch of the wall, turning to Draco with a beaming smile as you set the brush down in the tray.

“What do you think?” You ask with a triumphant yet defeated sigh, twirling in the near empty room with open arms.

You hadn’t twirled so much as twice before his hand grabbed a hold yours, tugging you close to him. He had yet to change from his pajamas, miscellaneous smudges of green mingling with the pale freckles smattering sparsely across his chest.

“I don’t think it’s quite green enough,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear with a playful smirk. “Not the right shade.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from his touch, fighting to stifle your laughter and contain your smile. But the moment you looked at him again, at the softening smile gracing his lips and the hair falling down in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t possibly refrain. “You’re terrible sometimes, you know that?”

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, soft and tender as his laugh puffs against your skin.

“I do know that,” he starts, fingertips trailing down your arms before interlocking with your own. A softer smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his blue gaze bounced around the room. “It’s perfect.”

It truly is. It may have just been a simple matter of painting four walls of a spare room a color that you’d been dreaming of since the day you’d moved in. It may have been a simple moment on a lazy Sunday morning. But it was perfect and something he never thought he’d be fortunate enough to have.

He knows he wasn’t the best person, he knows he wasn’t even remotely so as a child and the teenager he once was. He knows he’s not even the best person now either, not with the memories still taunting and weighing heavily on him. What he also knows is that he hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps, nor had he done what was expected of the only Malfoy heir. There were no intentions of living in the Manor and throwing fancy soirées, no desire to live within a larger than necessary estate composed of the same gray walls and dust covered shelves, sparsely decorated with expensive furniture and paintings. As much as Narcissa wanted him to continue on the family inheritance, and as much as he loved her dearly—he did not want that for himself.

Now, he’s got a wonderfully sweet cottage tucked away in a neighborhood where no two homes are the same. He lives in a home where every room is painted a different color that didn’t necessarily match from one to the next, where every room feels cozier than the last. He lives in a home that feels lived in, that radiates a kind of warmth and love he could have only ever dreamed of his entire life. One that houses a culmination of each of the things that matter the most to the both of you.

He lives with the love of his life, someone who he felt he didn’t deserve the affections of but received them regardless. He lives a life of matching coffee mugs and 2 am slow dances to a melody unheard. With bookshelves lined with shared tastes in literature crammed together and the occasional picture frame with the two of you captured within it. In a home surrounded by untamed wildflowers and borderline unkempt lawns with deep maroon shutters by each little window. All of it encompassed by a matching wooden fence with an iron latch, the numbers of your address engraved in an old metal slab.

His parents might have frowned upon his choice in living arrangements in noticeable comparison to the luxury of their own, but he no longer cared about their opinion. It was merely that; an opinion.

“What are you thinking of?” You ask after a little while, your voice pulling him back to the current moment as you brushed the platinum strands away from his eyes.

His gaze shifts to you, smile soft and beaming as the breeze sweeping into the open window sifts through your hair. As the late afternoon sunshine glimmers across your skin. "Stay here with me. For the rest of our lives. Stay with me.”

He watched as your expression filled with a delighted confusion, one so adorably curious he wanted nothing more than to kiss you for the rest of the day. You laugh softly, smile bright and eyes sparkling as you took in the loving sincerity of his words spoken so freely, so meaningfully. What he hadn’t known, however, was the butterflies fluttering around relentlessly in your stomach and the racing of your heart. You had known of such things already, but to hear them spoken was something else entirely.

“Painting our spare room really has made you sentimental, hasn’t it?” You jest, your squeal ringing out when he lifts you in his arms and twirls you in retaliation.

Your hands settle on his shoulders as your laughter fills the room, his lips pressing to the column of your throat. He knew you’d say something along those lines, he absolutely knew it. He sets you down but keeps you just as close, his lips continuing to press upon your neck as you continue to giggle at his mercy. He moves to your cheek and bumps his nose against yours, foreheads resting on one another as your dwindling laughter mingles in the space.

“I mean it, darling,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at your expression fully. He looked at you carefully in the close proximity, hopeful of your answer as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

It was then that the corner of your mouth quirks up into a grin. You bring your arms up to rest on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the very tip of his nose. “For the rest of our lives,” you repeat softly with a widening smile, just to hear how it sounds. “I quite like the idea of that.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh, kissing you again and again, his arms tightening around you as he engulfs you in his embrace so much so he nearly lifts you off your feet once more. But soon there was muffled laughter and a gasp, your gazes traveling to the floor as you’re met with adorably large blue eyes and ever so sweet purring. Ivory.

Her once clean paws were doused in paint after walking freely through the tray without a care for much else, tracking it across the newspaper set across the floor, perfectly tiny paws pressed upon your feet in little sage-colored prints as she walked on you both. You sigh as you bend down and scoop her up, a delighted meow escaping her at the attention she was aiming to receive. It was immediate that she nudged Draco’s nose rather roughly, the action aggressively affectionate as she stood her front paws on his chest. He scrunched his nose at your laughter of the footprints left behind on his skin.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” He says lightheartedly to the feline, using your earlier words as he scratched under her chin. She responded with another nudge, whiskers brushing over his lips.

He smiled fondly, one that was soft and true.

“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes shifting to you once you set her down, a gust of the spring breeze blowing his hair back in his eyes, a shimmering blonde in the sunlight. “I love you in every possible way.”

You smile, cheeks staining a soft pink as your arms wrap around his neck once more. “And I love you,” you whisper, leaning on your toes to kiss him, gentle and sweet. “In every possible way.”

Draco Malfoy lived a life entirely decided by himself for once, and he was destined to make better of it than it once was. He was perfectly content with the one he made for himself now; one with the love of his entire life and the precious little kitty he’s come to love. The three of you stood there, enjoying the simplicity of just merely basking in each other’s company.

He found himself excited to decorate yet another room with your things and his combined. It was more than just a spare room; it was a piece of your home, of a life your own.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @anchoeritic @hahee154hq @amourtentiaa @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft

[hetvi1498]

Makeup Products for Beginner

Whether you're new to makeup or have been experimenting with it for years, having a collection of beauty essentials that will help you to create a go-to everyday look is key. It's a lot easier to add fun or fashionable makeup products to your collection and incorporate them into your beauty looks once you've mastered the basics.

Makeup Essentials – Face:

1. Face Primer

While some people believe that face primer isn't necessary, I consider it to be an essential part of my makeup procedure.

Face primers have a variety of impacts on your face and makeup, but their main goal is to keep your skin smooth and your makeup appearing fresh all day. Whether you're searching for a product to regulate oil and/or acne, hydrate, smooth out uneven texture, colour correct, or anything else, there's a primer for you.

2. Foundation

Foundation is undoubtedly the most difficult component of your makeup regimen to master, because you must consider not only the level of coverage you like (sheer/natural, medium, or full), but also your skin type and undertones.

If you're new to foundation or aren't sure which type or shade is best for you, I recommend visiting your local Sephora, MAC, or department store and having a makeup artist assist you in selecting one that matches your skin tone and meets your coverage requirements. Requesting a sample is also a smart idea if you want to check how a formula feels on your skin before purchasing it.

Even if you prefer to buy foundation at a drugstore, I recommend that you get matched at a higher-end store first. This will help you figure out which colours to look for.

3. BB Cream

I prefer BB cream to traditional foundation because it gives a more natural appearance. If you're searching for a product with skincare advantages like moisturizing or priming, this is an excellent choice (some BB creams have primer built in).

Furthermore, if you are new to makeup, a good BB cream is a better place to start than foundation because it feels lighter on the skin, is difficult to overdo, and can be applied with your fingers.One significant disadvantage of BB creams is that they typically come in limited shade ranges and do not cater to darker skin tones.

4. Concealer

Concealer is a must-have if you have acne, dark circles, or any other type of discoloration.Concealers are available in full-coverage and sheerer-coverage formulations, and which one you should use depends on how much you want to conceal.

When selecting a concealer for acne and/or discoloration, choose a shade that is as close to your foundation/BB cream shade as possible for the most natural look.

Dark circles are a little trickier to conceal because there is so much variation in their shades and how they appear on different skin tones, but in general, a peach or pink-toned concealer will do the trick. 

5. Blush

Applying blush can have a significant impact on your overall appearance, and I never leave it out of my makeup routine. Blush is especially important if you're wearing a foundation with more opaque coverage, which can leave your skin looking a little flat. Blush is available in powder, gel, and cream forms, with powder being the most popular. However, cream and gel blush have recently gained popularity.

When selecting a blush colour, choose one that will give you a natural flush. Regardless of your skintone, avoid going too bright or applying with too heavy a hand, as these can make you look clownish.

Pink and peach tones look best on fair-to-medium skin tones, while mauve, purple, and maroon tones look best on darker skin tones. 

6. Highlighter

Highlighter, like many other beauty products, comes in a variety of forms, including powder, cream, liquid, stick, and powder/cream hybrid. Each of these forms has its own set of advantages, but for beginners, I recommend powder or stick because they are the easiest to work with.

My go-to highlighter application technique is to lightly dab it along the bridge of your nose, the tops of your cheekbones, your cupid's bow, and just below your brows. You can even use your highlighter as an eye shadow!

Finally, finding the right shade of highlighter, like finding the perfect shade of foundation, is dependent on your specific skin tone and undertones, so it's a good idea to test out different colours in person if possible.

7. Bronzer

Using the right shade of bronzer is essential if you want to achieve a sun-kissed look. I suggest going no darker than one or two shades darker than your natural skin tone, and lightly dusting it all over the high points of your face for a healthy glow, or simply in the hollows of your cheeks (below where you'd put your blush) for a more chiseled look. In either case, use a light hand and blend thoroughly.

The choice between matte and shimmery depends on the rest of your look: If you're using all matte products on your face and want to add some radiance, try something with a bit of sparkle. However, if you're already wearing shimmery makeup, stick to a matte formula to avoid shine overload.

8. Setting Spray/Powder

Setting spray/powder, like face primer, works to keep your makeup in place all day.

There are various formulations available depending on the type of finish you want (matte, radiant, etc.) and what skin care benefits, if any, you want your setting spray/powder to have (e.g. moisturizing, oil-absorbing, etc.). But, if you want your makeup to last, don't skip this step. 

Makeup Essentials – Eyes:

9. Eye Primer

My eye makeup would literally be virtually gone within two or three hours before I started using eye primer, so it's been a lifesaver for me.

Not only should a good eye primer keep your eye makeup from sliding off, fading, and creasing, but it should also have a formulation that keeps colours appearing true to how they should all day.Keep in mind that eye primers aren't just for oily skin–there are a variety of hydrating, color-correcting, and anti-aging formulations in the market.

10. Eyeshadow

Eye shadow is my favourite cosmetic product, along with highlighter, because it comes in so many various hues and finishes and can be used in so many different ways.Finding makeup colours and tones that match your eye colour is a terrific method to make your eyes stand out.

Always define your crease, regardless of the style you're striving for - from natural to smoky. By blending the shadow into the crease, you may create depth to your eyes and make them appear larger. The key is to use a soft fluffy brush to build up the eye shadow in a back-and-forth motion.

11. Eye Pencil

If I had to choose only one cosmetics product to wear before leaving the house, it would undoubtedly be eye pencil (or kohl). Because "eyes speak louder than words," I believe they should always be highlighted.

Always begin at the outside corner and work your way inwards while using an eye pencil. Always use tiny strokes and don't be afraid to press the pencil towards the waterline. You will not injure yourself while performing this task. Eye pencils are creamy and silky since they are made with the area in mind where they will be utilized.

12. Mascara

Mascara has a magical way of bringing your entire eye look together, and it comes in a variety of formulas to lengthen, thicken, and curl your lashes.

Most individuals can get away with black mascara, but if you have really light-colored lashes, you might want to try a brown mascara instead for a more natural effect.

13. Eyeliner

Eyeliner, like mascara, may offer that additional something to truly make your eyes pop.

While black eyeliner is frequently considered a must-have, if you have lighter skin, try brown or dark grey. Eyeliner may be applied in a variety of ways, but my preference is to draw a fine line at the lash line and wing it out just a little beyond my eye.If you want to make your eyelashes look thicker, line the waterline with eyeliner. Eye pencils and kohl products created exclusively for this delicate area are available.

If you're concerned of messing up with liquid eyeliner, I recommend lining your eyes first with a similar-colored eye shadow or pencil liner, then going over that line with the liquid liner.

Makeup Essentials – Lips:

14. Lip Gloss

Lip gloss was popular in the early to mid-2000s, but has lately resurfaced, with trendy brands such as Anastasia Beverly Hills, Glossier, and Fenty Beauty all offering their own variations.

When you're in a hurry, don't have access to a mirror, or when the rest of your makeup is more dramatic and calls for a subtler lip, go for lip gloss.

 15. Lipstick

You can't dispute that lipstick is having a significant moment right now: whether you prefer a liquid or bullet formula, a glossy, satin, or matte finish, or a glossy, satin, or matte finish, there's a lipstick out there to suit your preferences!

Beginners should start with a colour that is near to their natural lip colour, as this is the easiest to apply and remove.

Once you've mastered that, it's a good idea to invest in a basic red that works with everything and can be worn to class or on special occasions. For a softer look, try a glossy formula or a lip balm, or a matte formula for a more glamorous look.In addition, I recommend wearing a red lip with minimal makeup or none at all.

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: smut Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

~ 2100 words

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Chapter 20

"I hate it," Amy's desperate tone came straight from the dressing room.

"You said exactly the same thing about the previous one..." Lily was sitting on the couch in a weird position, sighing loudly from boredom, "...and another one before..."

Finally, Amy walked out of the dressing room.

She was wearing a simple black dress that was reaching half of her thighs, showing her bare legs. The upper part of the costume had a deep neckline on thin straps. It was clear that Amy didn't feel comfortable in this small amount of material that Lily chose for her.

"Damn, you're on fire, girl!" Lily clapped with pride.

Amy's face got red from shame. She didn't even know how to walk in this dress without revealing too much.

Because there was a lot of her skin revealed already.

"I don't think that this is appropriate for the gala," blonde turned around and looked at herself in the mirror.

Lily buried her head in hands, losing her temper.

"We were looking for a dress for you for over a week now," she lifted her gaze, powerless. "I know that you don't like wearing dresses... but girl, you're killing me right now."

Amy inhaled deeply, understanding her best friend's helplessness. She wasn't a shopping type, and since she was about to go to this gala as Kamilah's date, she wanted to look as good as it was possible.

They had spent in this boutique a couple of hours already. The place was all for their use, thanks to Kamilah's connections. But even that wasn't enough to make Amy choose a dress. Especially when she felt like she tried on everything in this clothing store.

And so far, nothing was good enough.

For sure, not what she was wearing at that moment.

Lily opened her mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by the sound of a third person stepping inside.

"Can I finally see what my date will wear for the gala?" Kamilah's voice was still far away.

Amy panicked and hid again in the dressing room, closing the curtain behind her hurriedly. She did it just on time before Kamilah appeared next to the couch on which young vampire was sitting.

"I don't think, you're gonna see her at all," Lily's voice showed tiredness unusual for her.

Kamilah finished her work for today, and she was full of hope that Amy finally chose the right dress to wear for this special occasion.

She couldn't be more wrong.

"What do you understand by that?" the woman looked at Lily with her cold eyes. "Are you telling me that you were here for another five hours and achieved nothing?" She was angry at Lily, who was responsible for helping Amy to make a decision.

"Be grateful that you didn't have to be here for this whole time," Lily stood up, gathering her things in a hurry. "But, since you are now, good luck."

The young vampire told her goodbye to Amy through the curtain and stormed out of the boutique.

Leaving the couple alone.

Kamilah let out a sigh of annoyance because of Lily's attitude. She left the purse on the couch and crossed her arms, readying herself for the view.

But nothing happened, Amy didn't walk out of the dressing room.

"Come on, my little firefly, show me yourself," Kamilah's voice sounded way much softer than when she was talking to Lily.

"Over my dead body," Amy spoke quietly behind the curtain.

Kamilah laughed shortly, getting closer to the dressing room, but not walking inside.

"I assure you that there is no part of your body left that I haven't already seen," the woman's voice confident.

No one in the boutique beside Amy could hear her words. And Kamilah was right, she had her time during the past week to explore Amy's body wholly. The same happened the other way around.

"May I?" she waited till Amy let out a sound of permission.

The woman pulled the curtain aside, revealing Amy in the same tight, black dress that she showed to Lily a moment before. The girl's face was red as she tried to cover herself somehow with her own hands.

Kamilah stood there for a moment speechless, taking in the view before her. Her mouth curled in a smirk, while she was slowly moving her eyes from the girl's legs, traveling up to her stomach, and higher to her upper body. The woman's eyes took short breaks on particular parts, making Amy blush even more.

"I know it's not an appropriate dress for the event like that," Amy said, gesturing wildly. "I don't know why I even said yes when Lily showed it to me," she would keep on explaining if she wasn't interrupted by what happened next.

The woman was near her in an instant, pushing Amy's back against the wall. Of course, she remembered to close the curtain behind her first.

"If your desire was to provoke me with this dress..." Kamilah whispered seductively into Amy's ear with her husky voice. "It worked."

Kamilah's hands slipped down from the girl's arms to wrists unbelievably slowly, finally resting on her hips.

"However, you are correct..." she looked into Amy's eyes, observing that her voice and touch already had its effect on her prey.

The woman increased the pressure on Amy's hips, scrapping her skin through the thin layer of material. Amy let out a little moan of pleasure, trying her best to compose herself since they were still in the public place.

"Kamilah..." the girl tried to reason with her.

But at that moment, her body was swirled around, and she found herself with her chest against the wall. The woman's fingers traveling from Amy's knees, up her thighs.

The dress went dangerously high when Kamilah moved her hands to Amy's waist, then to her back. The girl was already shivering under her touch, hating herself for such immediate reaction from her body.

"This dress..." another whisper into her ear, causing shudders.

Amy moaned louder when she felt a warm breath on the back of her neck. Lips that she wanted to feel on her skin were so close, but still not close enough. The girl didn't even notice when Kamilah unzipped the dress, leaving her back bare.

"Is only suitable for me..." another whisper. "To take it off."

Kamilah pulled down straps from Amy's arms. Within the second, the dress laid on the floor, leaving the girl in her underwear.

All of the doubts left Amy's mind in an instant. Her body ached to be touched by those fingers.

Kissed by those lips.

The fact of them being in a public place didn't matter at all.

Acting impulsively, Amy pushed her hips back, wanting more warmness of Kamilah's body. But the woman stepped back, causing the growl of annoyance to escape her mouth.

"But this is not the dress appropriate for the gala, as you correctly noticed," a sly smirk didn't leave Kamilah's face.

Amy turned around slowly. Her hair slightly messed up, skin hot from excitement. Chest lifting and falling quickly. She looked intensively into Kamilah's chestnut eyes, knowing the look hidden behind them.

The girl was getting used to Kamilah's teasing games. But she knew how to play on her own too. A cunning plan was created in her mind making her wear an innocent expression.

"So..." Amy pushed her butt against the wall, causing her upper body to lean forward, exposing her breasts. "Will you leave me like that in here?"

A spark showing in Kamilah's eyes as she looked at her, made the girl shudder slightly. The woman licked her lips hungrily, knowing what exactly Amy had in mind.

That she wanted to play.

Kamilah was the best one in this game. And she felt the need to prove that to this stubborn human being.

"I can see someone's being naughty," Kamilah kept her posture straight. A smirk dancing in the corner of her mouth. "That's a real shame I don't have time for that."

Amy's smile dropped. She stopped making slow movements with her body, and a sign of disappointment appeared on her face.

"How can you resist this?" Amy's game was short. Lack of confidence quickly reminded her about itself.

Kamilah maintained the visual contact for enough time to see Amy's growing unsureness. Her skin was slowly turning pinkish from confusion.

She was standing there before the woman in her underwear, suddenly feeling exposed.

"Wait here," Kamilah turned around, reaching for the curtain. "Be a good girl, and then we can talk."

With those words, she disappeared, leaving the girl alone.

Amy's heartbeat was increased in anticipation. On her skin showed goosebumps, making her wrap her arms around the exposed body. She turned herself to the huge mirror hanging on the wall to meet with her own reflection.

She looked over her body, remembering the places that were kissed last night by Kamilah's soft lips.

Spots, where previously were hickeys, now were just her soft, healed skin.

She still remembered the sweet touch of the woman's fingers pinching on the delicate skin of her thighs, sending shudders.

Amy closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly while her fingertips touched her own throat. They were slowly moving down, following the path Kamilah's mouth took during the night.

Down her chest, over her breasts, sliding to her belly button.

The girl chuckled slightly on the memory of Kamilah's tongue, teasing her sensitive spot. She rejected this thought, and moved her fingers lower, almost reaching the edge of her underwear.

"That's not what I meant by be a good girl," Kamilah's voice made Amy jump and open her eyes.

She didn't know how long the woman stood there, but one thing was clear. Kamilah had seen enough, assuming by her eyes, which became red like the shade of the most beautiful rose in the garden.

"I comprehend, you decided to have all the fun for yourself," the tone of Kamilah's voice was sharp, but her eyes were showing desire.  

Amy couldn't stop a blush on her face again.

But at the same time, her eyes were focused on the dress Kamilah was carrying in her hands. She was drawn to the golden color of the gown, which made her own eyes change to identical shade.

"Woah, this is..." Amy's mouth opened in astonishment, "absolutely beautiful."

Kamilah stepped closer, spreading the dress before her to show it better. The costume was shining in the light like it was created only for this purpose.

"Try this on," the woman gave her the dress, seeing Amy's unsureness. "Just give it a try," she added quietly, "for me."

Finally, Amy took the dress and carefully put it on. She was watching her moves, not wanting to destroy the delicate material. The only thing left before she was fully dressed in it was a zipper. That's when Kamilah came with help.

At first, her fingers traced its way on Amy's smooth skin, starting from shoulders, moving down to her lower back. Finally, not wanting to torture the girl any longer, she slowly zipped the dress.

"That's what I call beautiful," Kamilah stood behind Amy, looking at the girl's reflection in astonishment. "It's you, who makes the dress special, not the other way around."

The upper part of the gown fitted Amy correctly, tightly matching her shape. The material was close to her body, creating an impression of another skin. The back of the dress was partially closed, and the straps were connecting it with the opened front. The V neckline was exposing Amy's chest to some extend, still making the dress look appropriate and elegant.

The lower part of the dress was of tulle, falling loosely down her legs. The side leg slit emphasized Amy's slim legs, adding her height. Not talking about what would happen after wearing high heels.

"What do you think?" Kamilah's voice showed that she was a little nervous about the girl's opinion.

"I think," Amy turned around with grace, putting her hands on the woman's shoulders, closing the distance between them. "That I can show myself in this next to you."

Kamilah smirked, seeing what the girl was up to. She followed her lead, slowly leaning down to Amy's lips.

The girl already closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss. But Kamilah stopped an inch from her mouth. They were able to feel each other's warmness.

An unbearable distance between them.

"I think the same," Kamilah whispered, and when the girl climbed on her toes to kiss her, she stepped back. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at 9 p.m."

And after those words, Kamilah left the boutique using her vampire speed.

Leaving behind herself only a gust of wind.

Amy sighed lightly before turning around to the mirror, smiling to herself again. She knew that she provoked Kamilah enough for that day. She was expecting nothing more than punishment after the gala.

The girl's smile faded when her eyes connected with their greenish reflection.

She had a bad feeling about the next day.

Next chapter: 21

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @caliseds, @myonlybae-joohyun @lightning-fury thank you for your advice on this chapter 💕

[thyra279]

Clan colours

Ended up writing this instead of going to bed last night. For day 2 of the Good Omens Celebrations.

Prompts: Contrast (and Cotton)

"…What?" Not-quite-Crowley-Crowley stared at him, mouth agape, an expression which did Aziraphale's poor old corporation absolutely no favours.

"I said, could you give me a twirl?"

"I'm still a bloody demon for a few hours longer, Angel, I'm not gonna twirl. Do me the favour of letting me die with my dignity intact."  

"Crowley." The sharpness of Aziraphale’s admonishment was swallowed by the  concrete walls of Crowley's living room. Their owner sighed.

"I'm kidding Aziraphale, we're gonna be fine. Just a nice little trip up- and downstairs for us, a cosy heart-to-heart with some archangels and the dukes of Hell." Crowley's voice softened at the angel’s disapproval, sounding oddly mild in Aziraphale's throat. "And then we'll be right as rain."

"I know that, dear. I hope you do too. Have a little faith."

"Erh, 's a bit of a touchy subject for me."

"Have faith in Agnes Nutter, then."

Crowley shifted awkwardly in the foreign corporation. The lofty sniff he managed was more his own. "I've met quite a lot of witches in my time and believe me, most of them are not to be trusted. The things they tried to do to us poor devils. Tricky bunch. Verrrry tricky bunch. Quite a few of them were positively debauched, and that's coming from a demon who's terrifically debauched himself, you know." 

Aziraphale managed to disguise his snort as a throaty sneeze.[1] "Ble- gesundheit. Did I ever tell you about that weirdo with the black cat and massive warty nose up in Staffordshire?"

"You did, yes. Several times a century for the last 400 years. I believe you've told most of the northern hemisphere by now."

"She tried to fly on a broomstick, Aziraphale. A broomssssstick."

"Yes, dear." Crowley mimed vaguely at sweeping the floor and shook Aziraphale's head before falling into bewildered contemplation. Aziraphale took the opportunity to hike up the metaphorical bootstraps of Crowley's unruly corporation to circle around Crowley and his own corporation. It was an odd reversal of their ritual, familiar and disconcerting all at once. The reflection in the dark glass windows at the end of the room belied the oddness of the scene, the undercurrent of worry in both of them. And still, there in the window was the comforting lankiness of Crowley, though a little stiffer than normal. And there, his own slightly stuffier corporation.

Aziraphale turned to look at the real version of it. It had been close to thirty years since the last time he'd really looked at himself. He liked his corporation, always had. It was nowhere near as disarmingly lascivious as Crowley's, yet it had its own charm, a warmth and comfort which easily won over humans and, it seemed, at least one otherworldly being too.

It may have very recently undergone some major restorative work, but it looked more or less the same as it had for the last 6000 years. His clothes, however, caught his interest.

"Are you checking me out, Angel?"

"No, dear, I am taking the opportunity to, ah, check out myself."

"Ah. Can't blame ya, good call."

"Oh hush. I'm taking a look at my attire, Crowley."

Aziraphale's garments told a story themselves, reminders of little not-so-chance encounters and long-planned secret evenings together. Which genre the story belonged to he couldn’t bear to contemplate tonight. 

Aziraphale knew Crowley's clothes, even the new ones, could have recited every tailored line had he had the audience.[2] He had never really paid his own clothes the same courtesy, and now, he may not have the chance again.

The demon stood still, let him survey his beloved khaki coat, find the innocent-looking shoulder that Crowley had blown clean only days earlier. The fraying waistcoat that might seem past its expiration date but had at least another decade in it. He hoped it would get it.

The cotton-blend bowtie he'd started wearing just before that evening in the church when…-

It had quickly become his favourite accessory. He'd tried out a cravat during some years in the 1950s and 60s. It had suited him rather well, he'd thought. And yet, he'd kept coming back to the bow tie, to the beloved lines of the tartan and their soft reassurances around his neck. He hadn't gone a day without it since 1967.  

Heaven’s Dress. He'd rather liked the look and feel of his uniform during the Celestial War (it had been the only part of the War he'd been enthusiastic about). The tartan had seemed like a revelation; a rare surprise in those small days before Earth. After an eternity in strictly monotone fabrics - eggshell, vanilla, ivory or sheer white - the audacity of different shades mashing up together in such close proximity had been thrilling. It had made such a big impression on him that he'd seized the opportunity to popularise the pattern when it arose a few millennia later.

He’d got the chance when he developed Edinburgh in the 16th century. Crowley had been too busy working on Glasgow himself to bother Aziraphale much and so, he’d had plenty of free time.

Now, contrary to popular belief, it was Aziraphale who introduced tartan to Scotland, not the other way round. It had been a simple enough thing to slip in, during his town planning meetings, and the Scots had taken to tartan like, well, like chickens to water or whatever it was Crowley had said. His tartan venture had been quite the success for the Principality.[3] So much so he’d decided to have a go at the weaving himself and reproduce the one he’d seen in Heaven an eternity ago.

And he really had gone in fully intending to weave up the beige-on-beige tartan in honour of Heaven. When he’d looked at the result, however, it had seemed just a little off. After a week's contemplation and rather more than just the angel's share of whisky, he'd realised that Heaven's pattern was bland. It was too beige, lacked any form of nuance or depth. What it was lacking, he’d come to realise, was a bit of contrast. 

And so, Aziraphale had played around a little, had added a little darker shading here and there, then wound a gentle red line from left to right across the pattern. Before he knew it, thin twin red-and-nearly-black lines had slithered up from the bottom of the pattern too, wrapping themselves around the softer diagonals, and Aziraphale’s tartan had come together. It was certainly unusual, but to Aziraphale, it had felt just right. He'd named it Heaven's Dress as he’d set out to do. The blessings and protections he'd wound into the fabric had had nothing to do with Heaven, however.

A rather pointed cough roused him from his musings. "Am I witnessing the dawning realisation that tartan’s really terribly unstylish?" Crowley was looking at him, fretting hands tucked into loose linen trousers.

"Not quite." Aziraphale offered up a little smile at the sight of his tartan now guarding Crowley’s neck. The demon looked at him expectantly, but Aziraphale left out his usual retort.

Eventually, Crowley sighed and crossed his arms. "I do have faith, you know."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The demon looked down at himself. "I have faith in you." He picked up his wineglass and staggered over next to Aziraphale to flop down into his throne with as much flair as Aziraphale's corporation could manage. "Tell you what, Angel. If we make it out of there ali- unscathed and get to Berkeley Square as planned, I'll twirl all the way from there to the bloody Ritz for you, how's that?"

"Very well, dear. You know, I think I'll indulge in a slice of their Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. When we get there. And we will. I have every faith in both of us." Aziraphale straightened the bow tie and gave Crowley's cheek two quick pets. He set off on a practice saunter through Crowley's cavernous apartment to perform a little stylish miracle where it wouldn't be heard, doubling back on the way out of the door. "I'll look forward to your whirligigs."

“...What?!”

[1] To his knowledge, neither he nor Crowley had ever sneezed in the entirety of their existences, but Crowley seemed too preoccupied to notice.

[2] Aziraphale had found receptive audiences on a few occasions. One time in 1979, in a bar with a bunch of UCL students in SoHo, he'd spoken so passionately on the nuances of black in Crowley's wardrobe he'd been rather alarmed to find he'd accidentally started Goth subculture.

[3] Aziraphale had been really very miffed indeed when the English conjured up the Dress Act of 1746 and banned the use of tartan. He'd made sure to block every subsequent attempt by the English to change their national anthem to anything more stirring than the dull monotony of "God Save the Queen". Even he can see the pettiness of this, and yet he keeps at it to this day.

I’m collecting all my Celebration ficlets over on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037873/chapters/57837565 

Inspired by this lovely meta post on Aziraphale’s tartan: https://bluebandedagate.tumblr.com/post/187971072711/a-discourse-on-tartan