#i need to change my tag names i no longer wish to be called penguin actually lol

[kiwikipedia]

Threads of Daydreams

The Old Man of the Mountain thinks about many things. There is no  name that he will put to this relationship, but he knows that it is  good. The warmth and companionship of another is not a sin, after all.

First Hassan x Li Shuwen, 4K words, oneshot

AO3

The Li Shuwen here is the same person all the way through, just going through a class change after the lostbelts. He's currently an assassin, but before then and for most of the time that Hassan and Li knew one another he was a Lancer.

I bounce back and forth between calling Li just “Li” and his full name of “Li Shuwen” because I like how it rolls off the tongue. Did you guys know that “Shuwen” is technically his given name? Li is the family name. In retrospect, that makes sense, but I just can't call him “Shuwen” alone. I just can’t do it !! It feels weird lol

Anyways, I think that both Li and Hassan need more attention. I might write more for them later.

God. there are so many notes at the end feel free to ignore them though

There was a certain beauty to Chaldea and the opportunities that it had brought.

Servants and entities from across myth, history, and legend all had been brought to one location. Idolized heroes were met, successors, predecessors, and those not yet realized conversed between rivals, enemies, and allies. While rare, families met again, and past and future selves clashed in a battle of ideals.

Servants ate, laughed, and talked together, heroes from the west raised glasses with those from the east, and those from hard-written historical fact walked with legends from mythological wonder. Even beings that walked that fine line between truth and fiction existed, walking in a world beyond the pages of novels and stories.

No matter the person, no matter the past, they existed together bound and loyal to one Master. Over time, they lived and laughed, and left their past behind them while they moved forwards with their own legends engraved into their hearts.

So it was only natural, in such a situation, that some Servants, and even staff, fell into relationships. Be it by way of romantic, platonic, or familial love.

When it came down to romantic love, there were many ways that Servants showed their affection.

Some were public and open about their relationship with the rest of Chaldea— the goddess Quetzalcoatl, for example, certainly showered the Gorgon with affection. And no matter how much the Avenger seemed to hate it, only a blind and deaf fool wouldn’t know that she wasn’t similarly in love with the other goddess. And Gilgamesh and Enkidu fell into such a state the same way that water flowed along its natural path, with Gilgamesh always more than willing to shower his so-called most precious person with riches and adoration.

There were others, of course, the Caster Irisviel and the Assassin Emiya had created a whole mishmash of a family together with Illyasviel von Einzbern, and—although they had skirted around the edges for a bit— Saito Hajime and Hijikata Toshizou could be seen touching one another more often than not— the Berserker wrapping an arm around the Saber’s shoulders, or Saito linking their pinkies together as they talked to different people… if Hijikata wasn’t outright grabbing the Saber by the jaw and smashing their lips together in a full public display.

And of course, Medb was in a whole other category of public display of affection.

Some were more closed off than others, preferring their relationship be less prominent, and more between each other than public.

James Moriarty was a very… loud and open individual when he wasn’t scheming, though Charles Babbage was not loud and did not scheme— they were a strange balance for sure— and what went on between Geronimo and Robin Hood was no one’s business but their own. Both of the Princes of Walachia were more reserved people by nature, though Romulus and Vlad were a bit more public than Dracul and Georgios were— by way of a certain Roman Emperor and Dragon-like countess showering their relatives in affection and declaring their spats as sisterly banter.

And he, himself, preferred to keep his affairs private.

As the heavy footfalls of The “Old Man of The Mountain” echoed in the halls of the Wandering Sea, he counted himself lucky enough that the one he chose to spend his time with was more than understanding.

Granted, it wasn’t as if the Assassin under the name of Li Shuwen was an overly affectionate person in the public eye— not like many of the younger Servants tended to be with their romance and adoration. And the nature of their relationship was a bit more ambiguous than others.

But it was still the other Assassin who the “Old Man” found himself seeking out and returning to after missions.

The familiar scent of incense cut through the metallic tang of blood as the “Old Man” entered Li Shuwen’s room. It washed over him like the tide, floral and calming, the tension that he didn’t even realize he was still holding onto melting away.

The “Old Man” kept his presence concealment up for a moment longer, eyes drifting over the space that the other Servant called home.

While it wasn’t as barren as the room that had been given to him, Li Shuwen’s quarters were much less decorated than others. Nonetheless, there was still that comfortable and feeling of “home” without being too overindulgent.

A few knickknacks and novelties that had been picked up somewhere, a painting from one of the many artists— the Foreigner Katsushika Hokusai, possibly— on one wall with another hanging scroll likely plucked from a singularity on another.

A closet and dresser combination that held a few changes of clothes sat against the far wall (though it wasn’t as if they were much different than any of the attire the man wore into battle) and of course, there was the bed and night side table that every room had— but one of the most prominent fixtures of the room was the low table that had been added in.

Li sat there, turning through the pages of a book and tea on the table. Content. Calm. As if the image before him had been ripped from one of those little storybooks full of pictures that the children insisted on reading to him.

But the flip of a page was enough to pull him from such thoughts.

The “Old Man” allowed his presence concealment to fall as the door closed behind him.

Li Shuwen did not look up at him immediately, taking the time to set down his cup before he did.

“Ah, welcome back, Hassan.”

And like the tide going out, the “Old Man” felt the weariness that ate at his bones melt away, the titles, the ranks, the preconceived notions among others— all of it faded.

Gone was the “Old Man of the Mountain”, gone was the status as the “Grand Assassin” and the Founder of the Hashashin. Instead, Hassan-i-Sabbah stood.

He remained silent for a moment longer, before he took a step forwards.

“Yes. I have returned,” he murmured and like a melody, Li Shuwen laughed. It was a soft noise, more like a chuckle, but a warmth of familiarity welled up in Hassan’s chest nonetheless.

“All is well, I presume?” the other asked, propping his chin up on his palm. Hassan nodded before Li pointed towards the adjoining bathroom. “Wash up before you join me, hm?”

Hassan only gave another short nod in response. Quick and to the point as always, though he understood why.

For as much as the two of them would bathe in blood on the battlefield, he understood that Li Shuwen was not the type of man who preferred that the acrid stench of blood did not last long.

He was grateful, though.

Not every room in the new “Chaldea” within Atlas’ Wandering Sea had an attached bathroom. Some sets of rooms had a shared one between them, and others simply used the bigger common ones if they had neither a shared common one nor a private one connected.

Hassan was a private being, however. And while not out of malice, some Servants were… a tad too curious for his tastes.

It made sense, he was no fool. The shroud of mystery would always lure one in.

And he and Hassan of the Cursed Arm’s decisions to never show their faces had more than one child Servant to try and get a look—and several of those who were much too old to be acting in such a manner.

He was grateful that Li Shuwen allowed him the privacy of the adjacent bathroom to cleanse his body of the blood and gore that had seeped through his armor and robes.

The clothing he donned could be cleaned with a simple dematerialization, and in that same way, so could the body...

And yet there were habits that he could not shake from ages past. And the smell would linger in his mind.

The details could be debated another time, as the First of the Hashashin’s armor melted away and bare feet touched the tile floors.

It wasn’t long before he returned to the bedroom, steam lazily curling and drifting from the bathroom as he left the door open.

Gone was the heavy armor, the layers of metal and cloth that kept him and his form hidden away. Gone was the skull mask of the Hashashin. In their place were linens and woven fabrics, carefully chosen and crafted by the other Hassan as a gift.

Despite the time it had taken for him to wash away the stench of blood and battle, it appeared that Li Shuwen had not moved from his spot.

The scent of a new tea brewing said otherwise.

( Such a marvel modern devices were. A portable stove made it so that neither of them would be forced to leave the room. )

Still, Hassan stayed where he was for a moment longer, simply watching the much smaller Servant as he read.

Hassan-i-Sabbah was old, that was something that was an indisputable fact. He had seen many people, and just as many faces in his time. While he cared not for such trivial things such as physical beauty and appearance, he was well aware of what the modern beauty standard would be— had humanity not been incarcerated twice.

He knew that neither of them in this room would be considered at that standard, and yet…

“Come sit,” Li’s voice cutting through his musings made him tilt his head slightly. The tone was even, holding neither a demand nor an order— leaving as much room as wanted for Hassan’s own choice. Across, beside, or not at all.

If he wanted to, Hassan knew he could ignore the other Assassin entirely and retire to the bed early. But he neither wished nor wanted to at the moment.

Instead, he moved silently to Li, settling behind him.

The other just hummed at that, allowing Hassan one of his few indulgences he had granted himself as he pulled the smaller man into his lap. The familiar weight upon doing so made a soft sigh escape him, veil barely fluttering as he did.

Li chuckled nonetheless, settling down as he nursed his cup of tea. A second cup was set down to the side, empty, but Hassan’s if he so desired.

Eventually, perhaps. But not now.

Instead, he allowed himself respite and rest, lowering his head to rest against the other Assassin’s own.

Li let Hassan do as he pleased, Hassan shifting and wrapping his arms around him. Though the veil, he rested his cheek against his head, letting out another sigh.

‘Snuggling’ the other Assassin, perhaps, would be the most adequate term of phrase. If one could call it that, with Hassan all but enveloping Li against his own body.

It had taken them both less time and longer than expected to reach this point in their relationship. What their relationship was, however, Hassan did not put a name to it. Nor did Li Shuwen.

But the man never minded, in fact, he encouraged him in branching out in indulgences.

It had bothered Hassan, at the start— when he had first met the man when he donned the skin and class of his younger, Lancer self.

Li Shuwen’s heretical nature had been a divide between them, as had it been a dividing factor between Hassan and most other Servants— aside from, again, rank, status, and appearance driving those weak of heart off.

But Li Shuwen was nothing but relentless in his pursuits, whether it be for his own satisfaction of satiating the hunger for a fight or a simple conversation.

Hassan-i-Sabbah was a reverent man. It was his faith that guided him through his life, and his faith that tethered him to the world itself. He would uphold his promises to be both the first and the last of his legacy.

Li Shuwen was not a man of faith, nor a man of any religion. Both before the events of the Lostbelts when he was swift to resort to violence as a way to settle things, and after, when he had crossed fists with his own self and gained that form in the aftermath.

He was not a man of faith, yet he had never trampled on another’s. Instead, Li Shuwen asked questions and read to find out more information. He always did his best to understand, if only to make sure that a fight was in good form and didn’t violate any such religious rules.

The man was nothing if not consistent in both forms be it the one he took now, or the redheaded lancer who was always spoiling for a fight.

In the conversations before, there had been questions of faith, and prodding towards actions that he normally would have never taken…

But then again, that was the beauty of Chaldea. A place of opportunity— and reckless Servants who don’t take stop or no for an answer when fired up.

With another huff, Hassan buried his face in Li Shwuen’s hair. Shorter strands poked through the fabric of his veil, and a soft hum accompanied by the turning of a page left the other as he did.

In Li’s own words, it was hard to think that the revered and feared Old Man of the Mountain was this clingy. The first time he had said that, so early into their odd relationship, Hassan had avoided him for a long while.

Clingy? It was an odd notion for sure. He was not a man of worldly things, and at his position… Skinship was little more than a passing thought.

And yet…

He had returned to Li Shuwen who had apologized and asked if he had overstepped— with blood on his teeth, spear splinted, and shirt torn to shreds, with nothing but sincerity in his words.

Hassan had decided then that he had not— because how long had it been since he had last allowed someone to touch him, since he had last touched someone without the barriers of armors and linens wrapping around his skin? Granted, the word 'clingy' was a bit off-putting. But Hassan let it be.

But to bask in the warmth of another— it eased his soul and warmed his being much more than the scorching sun of the desert ever could.

Hassan let out a soft hum, leaning into the hand that had reached up and under the veil to touch his cheek— a hand-worn and aged with time, with muscle and strength to crush a skull, yet gentle and soft.

Li Shuwen did not press his boundaries, he did not lift the veil and gaze up at him, did not badger to see his face, despite their relationship. Not in that same way Moriarty badgered Charles Babbage to step from his mechanical shell. Instead, Li allowed for Hassan to show what he wished, when he wished.

Another soft exhale left Hassan, and he allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he pressed further into the touch against his cheek.

Soft. Warm.

How long had it been? How long would it remain like this? How long would be after Chaldea finished its duty and the Servants returned to the Throne that he could be like this?

Would he wonder between life and death once again? Or would his oblivion finally come?

He didn’t know, and i t was out of his hands.

“If you are wary, you should rest,” came the murmured words from the man in his lap, thumb brushing against his skin.

Hassan let out a soft snort at that, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm.

“Am I not resting now?” he inquired and once more, Li laughed.

He was a man who laughed when amused and who wore his expressions plainly for those to see.

When Hassan first encountered Li Shuwen in the sands of Camelot, he had been that way. He had been like a blade with his words and expression, teeth bared and rough nature bare and open to see.

A man who laughed often in the face of adversary, without care as his flesh was cut into by the whistling strikes of Failnaught. He had triumphed then, before the Hassan had taken the fight into their own hands.

And when he had seen the man again in Babylonia, as he watched and observed Chaldea’s Master, he had been the same. When he and Chaldea fought Tiamat and her spawn, he had been the same. And when remains of Goetia sprang up, he was the same.

And after the Lostbelts, when he agreed to lay down his spear for the time being, changing from Lancer to Assassin— Li Shuwen remained a man who openly expressed his thoughts and allowed his emotions to be seen.

Perhaps that was what had curbed Hassan’s initial annoyance. Li Shuwen was not hiding his intent when he approached for a fight. There was no hesitance, no fear.


Certainly, there were others in Chaldea with similar temperaments, but Li Shuwen was different. A curious puzzle.

Hassan would not lie in stating the man’s persistence in the past— and even now as a man who was supposedly more mellowed than his previous self— had steadily won him out.

If it was a fight wanted, it would be a fight he was given.

A spear would not match his sword, but still, that did not deter Li Shuwen. Most always the fights ended in Hassan’s victory, but the few draws and standstills had been hard won.

Very few could claim to break the armor he donned, let alone with their bare hands.

Sometimes, Li Shuwen could walk away on his own two feet, battered and bruised and bleeding, but calling out that he’d manage next time. He would yell down the hall that he would win with such a light in his eyes that it made Hassan wonder if the man’s own strength was his ‘faith’ to an extent. Other times, bones had been shattered, skull caved in, and the man had more blood outside his body than in. Sometimes unconscious, sometimes not. Always, Hassan was careful when aiding and moving him.

(Sometimes to the Medical wing, other times they both knew that Nightingale and the others would have them skinned for not pulling their punches. Grand Servant or not, Hassan knew not to press his own luck with a medical professional.)

And in these fights, Hassan learned more about the man who was “his” now. And in Li’s own way, that was how he learned about him.

Because when it came down to it, fighting was how the man connected with others. He read the way people moved, the intent behind the strikes, what made others tick when his words reached them — would they become more reckless or keep their cool when taunts were thrown?

That was Li Shuwen.

And that had been how he had somehow crashed his way into Hassan’s life.

A curious man who was so different from others.

A man who was selfish without it being a sin and so genuine and open about it— it was baffling. Without hesitation, he would state that his sole goal was to test himself and fight stronger opponents, even in the form of an Assassin he was like this, though tempered and restrained. Certainly, h e fought alongside and with Chaldea, but he had told Hassan himself while cleaning his wounds after a particularly nasty battle in Salem that, should the time come when he was to grow bored, he would leave.

He was a self-serving man, and yet...

Hassan slouched lower, dropping his head to the crook of Li’s neck and inhaling slowly. The smell of incense and earth clung to him, subtle and mellow.

“Dost thou wish to lay with me?” he murmured against his skin, relishing in the warmth of the other— and despite the ages of restraint and tempered flame, Hassan found that craved it more and more. Something that, perhaps, stemmed from when Li Shuwen had been a Lancer. He had been a very touchy and physical person in that form, easily one to drape across Hassan's back to read over his shoulder or lean against him without a care.

It had created a gnawing need that Hassan hadn't known he had.

(Was this what it meant to be touch-starved? How long had it been, truly?)


Li’s hand had slipped up from his cheek to his head, fingers threading through Hassan’s hair hidden under the hood of his shroud. Li Shuwen is not a tender man, he never had been, but his movements were meaningful and gentle nonetheless— a touch reserved for those he favored.

“Depends on what you’re asking.”

There was a slight teasing lilt to the other Assassin’s words. Light, with a second meaning laced between them— if Hassan so wished for it. Always an open option, but never pressing. Not when it came to matters of faith.

And for that, Hassan briefly wondered if it would be worth it.

But it was hard to put a name to their relationship. Romance was such a flowery term, and the nature of Servants was oh-so difficult to place. If Oblivion did not claim his body, Hassan would continue on long after Li Shuwen returned to nothing but a name among the Throne.

Marriage was not on the table. Or not a conventional one, the time of a Servant was as fleeting as frost in the morning rays. And it had been eons since such matters had ever entered his mind— ah, his wife and daughters, how long had it been had since they had returned to the earth?

But truly, he valued Li Shuwen and the relationship they had now. Was it love? Perhaps.

Lips brushing against the veil, against his cheek, pulled him from the thoughts he had since lost himself in.

“I jest,” Li hums against his skin, book closed and tea abandoned. His free hand had found one of Hassan’s own, prying it from his waist and squeezing it. “I would not refuse to lay with you.”

No more words needed to be said— moving the other and himself is as easy as swinging his blade. Li Shuwen was small, tiny, in comparison to Hassan’s own hulking size.

With a soft huff of air, they settled again, the smaller Assassin nestled against him, tucked under his chin and against his chest.

It was warm, and it felt like the weight of responsibility had lifted from his weary bones.

Servants had no need to sleep, nor drink, but for Hassan… it was respite, it was habit, it was natural. And he would not be a liar to say that he was tired. He was the Grand Assassin, yes, but he was also a man, no matter how altered he had become.

He shifted as the other moved to get comfortable before reaching for the bedside table to click off the light.

It wasn’t as if Li had not seen his face before, wasn’t as if he did not know his face, his scars, the way that his eyes had sunk into his skull with age and time. Li Shuwen knew his face, but it was Hassan’s choice to remain hidden.

Li had respected that.

And in the cover of darkness, his hands reached up to the veil, slow and steady. Hassan could stop him, if he wished to. But he didn’t, allowing for the cloth to be removed and set aside in the darkness of the room.

The veil was set to the side, and fingers mapped his face.

“Ah, there you are,” Li mused, leaning up and a light kiss was pressed against his chin as Hassan leaned down, “You have been hidden so long, I had forgotten.”

A lie, one they both knew well as thumbs brushed the corners of Hassan’s lips.

“Are you tired?” the younger of the two asked, and Hassan only grunted, pulling him closer and burying his face against his neck.

He always was.

Always would be, until the bitter yet welcome end.

Hands moved up, slipping under the hood of his shroud, fingers brushing and tangling in his hair. Slowly, slowly…

“Thou knows the answer already,” he breathed finally, and Li chuckled again, tilting his head and pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Then sleep, O Grand Assassin,” he said, and again, that teasing lilt was back, but there was nothing but warmth in his words. “Sleep and I will remain here when you wake.”

And Hassan knew he would be. Selfish yet kind and always keeping his promises, that was the kind of person Li Shuwen was.

He was grateful for it, he found, to be understood in such a way.

Li Shuwen was not a genius, the man would freely admit that himself if asked, and his understanding of people was much different than others— and yet he knew and understood Hassan.

It was good. This strange life and relation of his— it was good. That was what their relationship was.

He did not put a name to what it was, but it was good.

That was what was important.

So Hassan let out a breath and curled around the other more, allowing himself to drift into the oblivion of sleep.

That little bit about Li not breaking promises is a nudge towards the Koha Ace manga where he just straight up resists a command spell from Caren. Li Shuwen what the fuck is that self-control.

Anyways. It was probably during Shinjuku that Li and Hassan started talking, and then sometime during Agatha or Shimousa to get friendly. Or rather, Li kept asking for a fight because you can’t tell me that this man saw Hassan throw down with the Lahmu in Babylonia and wasn’t instantly interested. I’d assume most Servants were idle during the EOR since it was a weird situation so Li and Hassan had a bit to talk and become whatever this fucking thing is lol.

Overall I’d say that Hassan has a preference for Elder Li's temperament but doesn’t mind the Lancer when he isn’t causing trouble. Lancer is more touchy and self-confident, whereas Assassin is reserved and calm (ish). Neither are like crazy affectionate in public, but Lancer Li is more the type to lean and drape across Hassan when bored or pull on his arm to get his attention and Assassin Li is like. Holding hands under the table and sitting next to/standing closer to Hassan. Hassan doesn't like major PDA beyond this, but otherwise, it's fine behind closed doors as long as it's not sexual.

I think writing Hassan with the aspect of his faith in mind is a bit difficult. His character is very unique and even though fate doesn’t really touch on it much he’s a man of Faith, and I want to make sure that I write and represent someone that correctly. I did research about the Islamic faith beforehand but I’m not quite sure in certain cases still.

Like sex outside of marriage is forbidden in Islam, it is a bit difficult to really work with the idea of Hassan being a sexual being. But on the other hand, Servants are also an entirely different playing field— since the Grand Order and Chaldea will not always exist, I suspect that it would be hard to really be married.

I guess that’s where most of that hesitance to name their relationship comes from. I don't know about dating, but from what I know in the Islamic tradition, Muslim men are not to marry non-muslim women, and vice versa, with men allowed leeway with women of the book (Jews, Christians, and Serbians mostly) but again— no idea where this would fall for same-sex relationships or even in terms of Servanthood.

Even if I figured that out, though, Hassan probably has a very low libido. Li Shuwen gets off on getting the shit beat out of him so it's fine /j

Also. Don’t worry about the Vlads being separate characters when Li and Li aren’t. The Vlads are two very different beings in my mind whereas Li and Li are the same man in different time periods. Vlad is the Berserker, and Dracul is Extra Vlad.

[writersrealmbts]

FAQs

Hello! I’m Penny, welcome to my blog. To start off I’m just going to give you some General Info, then I’ll do some FAQ’s (subject to modification).

General Information:

All of my works are copyrighted, you cannot repost, translate, or claim my work as your own. If you wish to translate my work, you can contact me and we will talk about it.

This is a side-blog for me (a grievous mistake on my part) so if you want a direct reply on a post I will either A) Screenshot and tag you or B) reply with my alt blog. Or you could just send me an ask and I can reply that way. 

Penny is not my real name, it’s actually a nickname derived from Penguin. I promise my parents love me more than that. 

I’ve been shy my whole life, I’m extremely introverted, and I’m a little socially awkward so if I respond to something and it just seems weird, harsh, or half-hearted it’s because I’m either A) completely unaware that it is or B) having a bad day/done with people. I usually don’t mean to offend anyone, so if my response seems bad or grumpy or whatever and I hurt you, you can totally call me out on it and you’ll probably get an apology.

Born in 1995.

FAQ:

When will the next part of (insert story name here) come out?/When will you be updating (insert story name here)?

I don’t keep a schedule, I generally update stories as they are finished. That being said, I’m a bit stubborn and asking me this will likely make the wait time longer. I don’t like that any more than you do, I just haven’t figured out how to rewire my brain yet. 

Are you going to write more for (insert story name here)?

First of all, I’m going to direct you to my In the Works page where I’m going to be trying to update the information provided at least once a month. Secondly, I generally mark series as completed or the last part of things as the ‘Final’ part. So if I have a series that isn’t completed, or that doesn’t have a final part, then it is very likely that there will be another part at some time.

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--

Updated 09/04/2020

[fatebreaking-a]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER.

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1. FIRST NAME:  No.

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: Never broken a bone, uh... I dunno, I’m super simple and unexciting.

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON:  It’s all in the voice for me. I’ve noticed that I usually grow to like things about people, person to person. A nice smile is also a big plus? But ultimately if I don’t like your voice... that’s a deal breaker.

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF:  Garbanzo beans.

5. A FOOD YOU HATE: Eggplants, mushrooms, anything too tart that hurts my teeth.

6. GUILTY PLEASURE:  this blog? imagining hugging my muses? idk.

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN:  ...whatever shirt I wore that day and usually pajama bottoms. I have one with penguins on it and one with holiday cacti.

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS:  I used to be super serious about serious relationships, but... Well, I’m kind of over all of it. Nothing is better. That said, I also kind of crush on everyone I meet a little bit, but that’s a separate issue.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: I’d just give myself some advice: Ease up. You don’t need to be ‘good’ all the time or ‘perfect’. The rest... I can’t change the rest. There’s a lot of things that could have made things better, but they would involve changing what others did and that’s no good. I can only do better from here on out. I wish I’d learn to hold my tongue a bit more, I guess, and maybe be a little less trusting instead of getting emotionally screwed over.

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: Extremely if I like you and otherwise not at all. I’m really bad at grand gestures or presents or sending flowers or those kinds of things and really good at little things like bringing someone water or getting them a blanket or checking in on them and so on. Lately I don’t really feel as affectionate but... it’s something that builds up with comfort, I guess. I’m pretty open about telling people that I love them platonically, though I guess I also do that less nowadays too. Oh and I like calling people dear / hun, but only recently realized that oops that might be harassment. Well crap.

Uh...I guess I’m a lot less affectionate than I used to be.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: I find it really hard to watch anything twice nowadays, but I used to watch Lion King & Mulan a bunch.

12. FAVORITE BOOK: -

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: Penguins are cool. I’m not an animal person though.

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]: Let me just push my rarepairs forward I guess? That’s about the long and short of it. I feel like as both an Ori and Sona blog, my ships seem uncommon for my muses. I’m pretty easy to talk into a ship though, but I guess TryndxAshe still does it for me. I feel like I don’t like a lot of ships that people do like, but to each their own, you know? I’ve no business bashing on someone else’s Sona ship much like other people have no business calling Sona the village bicycle. I’m still angry about that. Still. I don’t even remember who said it in the RP community but honestly fuck that guy.

15. PIE OR CAKE:  Pie, cake if there’s less frosting.

16. FAVORITE SCENT:  Whatever the shampoo smell is, it’s nice. Fluffy.

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH:  bros it’s Paul Rudd this is like the only celebrity I’ve ever gone ‘oh... oh damn.’ for. Otherwise, nah - never really got into that celeb crush culture.

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO:  - 

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT:  Introvert.

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY:  Extremely.

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID:  why not both

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: Yuppers, when I have a little time after work. I stream though so if I’m gaming it’s usually during stream time.

23. DREAM JOB:  idk, everything I want to do is too cuthroat/competitive. I used to want to make games / do voice acting and now I’m working my way through learning illustration / story narration.

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: Pay off my parent’s mortgage, save most of it, retirement fund, and then go back to being extra boring but this time with a security blanket.

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE:  I do not like Sy/las. That’s who springs to mind though I’m sure I can look at other characters and go ‘eeeeh’. I’ve also grown to like many characters I once didn’t so.

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: Uuuuuuuuh... Log Horizon? I’ve always kind of been a big believer that you shouldn’t have to know anything except the ‘basic premise’ to RP in a fandom, so I’ve kind of drifted through whatever.

Tagged by: yoinked from @voracites​.  Tagging: You.

[adampage]

Face the Facts | Sami Zayn

Pairing: Sami Zayn x Reader

I’m going to type the anon’s request at the bottom of the story because it gives away too much and I just want you guys to read it.

Word Count: 3,690 I GOT CARRIED AWAY BUT FOR GOOD REASON OK

Author’s Note: I’m taking requests!!!!  THIS REQUEST IS WAS SO CUTE AND SO HEAVENLY AND JUST. JUST READ IT. PLEASE. Please leave comments I love y’all <3 (And for the love of god i need to make a legit tag list so please send me an ask if you’d like to be in it, even if i already tag you bc i just tag whoever comes to mind at this point)

Tagging: @llowkeys / @unabashedwwesmut / @hardcorewwetrash / @roman-reigns-princess / @the-geekgoddes / @xxmaddhatter39xx / @reigns420 / @xstylesxclashx / @crowleysqueenofhell / @wrasslin-x / @wrestlewriting / @sjwrites22 / @wwefluffandstuff / @wrestlingbabe / @helluvawriter / @helluvaclash / @squirrel666 / 

It had started out very innocently. One evening, she sat at a table in the catering room, nibbling on her dinner. There was no one around, which was just the way she liked it. She held the book upright, just shy of her plate, as her other hand fed her forkfuls of spaghetti. It was a particularly harrowing situation, given that [Y/N] disliked getting food stains in her books, but it was a hazard of her addiction. Fact books were her life.

So as she cursed herself for splattering just a teensy bit of tomato sauce on page sixty five, All About Mosquitos, dabbing failingly at the spot, who should catch her in her own personal bubble of embarrassment but Sami Zayn? "Hey, [Y/N], mind if I sit?" She nodded in response, motioning to the chair in front of her with her fork, wincing when another stain hit the page. She gave the spot one last swipe before replacing the bookmark and swatting the book shut, settling it down on the chair to her right. His animated ginger brows expressed a flicker of mild amusement before his body settled in his seat. He was having the chicken salad. Of course he is, she thought. That would've been the better choice, given her own circumstances. Also, it was healthier. "What were you reading just now?" He asked amicably, the crunch of his salad hitting her ears as he took a bite. "Oh, um, that? Just a book." "I can see that," he said, smiling, "but about what?" "Uh..." [Y/N] mumbled. It wasn't something she liked to talk about. The few times she ever mentioned her fascination for the useless, guys and gals everywhere were immediately turned off. She could hear their voices change, the intonation in their mhm's differing slightly, monosyllables becoming more frequent replies. Their eyes would glaze over, no longer entertained by the conversation. And she never recognized it, until one day an old boyfriend broke up with her, his excuse being, "you just never shut up about that dumb, useless shit." So she never spoke of it aloud to anyone ever again. "It's nothing. Just dumb stuff." She could feel her body drawing back into itself, and she wondered just how much more of her spaghetti she would have to eat in front of him before she could make the excuse that she was full and leave. Sami gave her a wide smile. "Well, whatever it is, I bet it's interesting. When you're done with it, you mind if I borrow it? Most of the others don't really bring books along with them on the road, and I've been craving some new reading material." He took another bite of his salad. "You know, there was a study recently that said people who read are two and a half times less likely to get Alzheimer's?" It was like [Y/N] snapped back into reality after aeons of living inside her own mind. "W-what did you say?" "Yeah," Sami continued, "they said that even though reading doesn't outright prevent you from getting the disease, they proved that reading and Alzheimer's had a kind of correlation. Pretty useless, in the end," he chuckled. "But interesting to know all the same. I'm not going to take my chances." Suddenly, [Y/N]'s mouth went dry. The anticipation was killing her. "Do you know any other useless information? Anything else, ya know," she gestured with her hands, "interesting?" Chewing on his leaves, Sami thought long and hard. After about a minute, he remembered something. "Julius Caesar was kidnapped by pirates when he was in his twenties and held for ransom. When he heard the price, he told the pirates that it was an insult to his value and demanded they raise it. Once the ransom was paid and he was free, he tracked them down and executed them." [Y/N] giggled in response, hand reaching to cover her mouth. "Oh my God. That's amazing." "I wouldn't say amazing so much as arrogant, though," he argued gently. "No, I know," she replied, "but it's amazing that you know that." And that was it. The start of a budding friendship. He looked at her for what seemed like a year, biting his lip in contemplation. "Do you want to hang out later? Grab a smoothie or something, after the show?" [Y/N] flashed him a brilliantly beautiful smile. "I'd love to."

Weeks passed, and [Y/N] and Sami became the best of friends. She still kept her book and her useless facts to herself, but she knew that if it ever came up again, she wouldn't be afraid to tell him about it. Something about the way they'd spoken that day in catering gave off this vibe, this instinct to trust him. For the most part, they talked about movies, shows, work, politics. She was glad to find out that they had similar lines of thinking with pretty much anything, and they remained pretty much inseparable. It must've been the politeness, the kindness with which he spoke to her, that sealed that deal. She had a gentle, quiet nature that seemed to mirror his own. They were two sides of the same coin, as it were. One night, after a particularly grueling match with Natalya, in which Natalya actually spat in her face to the reception of boo's from the crowd, [Y/N] was feeling exceptionally down. She knew it was coming. She had told Natalya to give it her all. And it was only a storyline. It really shouldn't have affected her as much as it had. As much as it did. Sami had been right behind the curtain throughout the whole ordeal. He handed [Y/N] a towel to wipe off her face. "Really put the spit in spit-take, huh?" She wiped herself off with the towel, and threw it back to him. "No one laughed." "Good. That means they love you as much as I do." Sami slung the towel around his neck, and an arm around her slumped shoulders. "Guess you can sleep easy tonight knowing the entire WWE universe is probably writing hate tweets to Nattie as we speak." She looked up at him as they walked towards the locker rooms, placed a hand on his scruff and scratched it adoringly, before giving him a light slap on the cheek. "That's not nice, Sami. I wish they'd send me love tweets instead of sending her hate tweets." "Now that is a very noble and sweet thing to say. But, the heel makes the face, so..." "Did you just quote Glow at me?" "Who? What? Me? That wasn't Glow, that was..." He snapped his fingers, the bullshit answer coming to him. "...Vince McMahon." "Sami Zayn, you dumb, lovable idiot." "I'll take that as a compliment."

She couldn't sleep. That nightmare couldn't have taken more than a couple minutes for her brain to concoct and perform, and yet it had kept her awake for hours. It was Nattie's face, and yet it wasn't her face at all. It was warped, like the mirrors in a funhouse. Actually, now that she thought about it, the nightmare might have been about Nattie chasing her through a never ending hallway of funhouse mirrors, but it was hard to tell at this point. It had freaked her out. She had woken up in a cold sweat, and now she couldn't fall back asleep. She checked the time. 1:27 am. Fuck me, she thought, biting her thumbnail. Everything in the hotel was probably locked up or closed by now. The gym, the pool, the bar where she might've been able to drink herself to sleep. She didn't want to do it, but...at this point, she had no choice. Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, swallowing down every thought she had to deny herself this small ease of her soul, she opened up her chat with Sami. It took her a solid, oh, fifteen minutes to decide on her factual opener. Did you know mosquitos are most attracted to the color blue? It was about another minute or two before she saw the tell-tale chat bubble appear on the screen, signaling that Sami was typing a response. I didn't, actually. Remind me never to wear blue when we visit the south in the summer.

She let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to ask, then. Why she was still up. Her respect for him grew with every passing moment. I will. Also, don't wear black in the summer. Or anything dark, for that matter. Dark colors absorb all colors of light rays, as well as heat. You sure know a lot about colors, don't you? She bit her lip, holding back a smile. Eh, well, you know. I dabble. Dabbling is good, haha. I enjoy dabbling, now and then. I am quite the dabbler. Really? Oh, yeah. I've dabbled in marine biology. For example, did you know that a whale's penis is, ahem, scientifically called a dork? The only dork here is you. No way that's its scientific name. Also, leave it to the man to start talking about penis in a little light hearted, dabbling conversation. Ouch, that hurts. You got me, I'm not sure if it's scientific. Did you know that a male giraffe's penis is approximately four feet in length? That's about the size of an emperor penguin, or about the average height of a seven year old child. Oh my god. Now who's talking about penises? (Penisi?) I hope Finn and his stuffed animal giraffes stay far away from me for the next few weeks. I won't be able to stop thinking about what you've just told me. I feel so emasculated. [Y/N] burst out laughing. She was glad she didn't have a roommate this week, or else they totally would've cussed her out by now. All that tossing and turning, and now she was giggling uncontrollably at her phone screen. Emasculated? Come on. I'm serious. I will never, in my life, have a penis that large. That's upsetting. It truly is. The common shrew's penis is only a fifth of an inch long, on average, but relative to its body size, they're well endowed. So don't feel too bad. I am absolutely in awe at how much more you know about penises than me. My hope is that you don't know any of this from experience. Christ, Sami, NO. Omg, ew. I have definitely NOT dabbled in bestiality, thank you very much. Hahahaha, okay. Just making sure. ...So is that all you got? 😉 [Y/N] stared at the bright screen. She'd already woken him up, and it was nearing two thirty in the morning already. They'd probably be awake in the next three hours, since the gym opened up at 5:30. At this point, sleep wasn't much of an issue. She looked up at the ceiling, then back at the clock. 2:25. ....Boy, I'm just getting started.

So you're telling me that a superstitious pope is to blame for the Black Death? Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. So if this pope had just, left these cats alone, and not told people that they were the devil's brood, that the Black Death probably wouldn't have happened, because cats kill rats. The rats, of course, being the cause of the plague. Absolutely. And that he is the reason people, to this day, are so put off by cats. Which is stupid. Cats are amazing. I'm totally in agreement. Gucci is a fine example. Gucci is probably the best example, imho. She's the paragon of all feline kind, if you ask her. Oh, speaking of cats. Did you know that cats were highly revered in Egypt I had heard about that, yeah. Yeah, pharaohs would be buried with their pets, mainly cats and dogs, along with their families and concubines. The cats were supposed to help guide their spirits to the afterlife. Is that why people say that cats can see ghosts? Sometimes Gucci yowls at the wall. OMG, are you serious? 😂 Yes. I'm totally serious. You might need to have her checked out, tbqh. Absolutely not. My Gucci is perfect. Okay, then.... So I've got a useless fact for you. In the nineteenth century, there was a construction foreman named Phineas Gage who, after some miscommunication or malfunction with explosives, got a metal rod shot through his brain, and lived. He fucking LIVED? Yeah, he lived. For another twelve years. That's just...that's insane. Twelve years? Christ. Yeah, crazy isn't it? Extraordinary. Now, I'm going back to animals because animals are fun. By all means. Did you know that bloodhounds are the only animals whose evidence is admissible in court? Really? Must be why Sherlock Holmes had one. Yeah. Apparently their noses have forty times the amount of receptors that human noses do, so it's easy for them to connect blood at the scene of a murder with the suspect who may have committed the act. Commit murder, stay away from dogs. Duly noted. Sami. Sami, no. I'm kidding, lol. Do I look like the type of guy who could kill someone? [Y/N] dropped her phone on her lap, incredulous. She sat there, head leaning against the headboard for a good long while. Could she imagine him killing someone? The answer was only too obvious. Sami, you wrestle for a living. The only reason you haven't killed someone yet is because you and the other person know what they're doing, and it's professional. Imagine yourself fighting someone who has no training whatsoever; you get mad one night and fists start flying. To me, you don’t look like you could hurt anyone. But you could hurt someone if you wanted to.

Why would I be fighting them, though? I feel like if I killed someone, it would have to be a very good reason. Not that I'm saying murder is justifiable. But. You know. The conversation had taken quite a turn. It was morbid at best, revealing at worst. She typed a response. Let's say they hurt me. Badly. On purpose. Would you kill someone for that? His response was static. It was like she'd accidentally pressed "scan" on the radio and nothing came up but noise. She was glad of it, though. It meant he was taking his time to think about it. If he said yes too quickly, it meant he really, honestly, couldn't give a fuck about human life, which she knew was untrue. If he said no too quickly, it meant he really could give a fuck about her. It was a selfish, loaded question. But she had typed it out anyway. I'd probably beat them to near death, if I could get away with it. Make sure they never hurt you again, or at least that they got the picture. An exhale of breath. Phew. Best answer, in her mind. Why is that so....sweet? Lol. I do consider myself sweet, so I'm glad to hear you say that. She dropped her phone on her chest with a smile. It was getting brighter, all of a sudden. Only then did she realize that soft light was glowing through the window shades. She checked the clock on the nightstand. 5:59. Sami, it's six o'clock in the morning. The gym's been open for a half hour! I know, [Y/N]. She stared at his answer. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't you say so? I was having too much fun texting you. There they were. The butterflies that came to assault her tummy once every thousand exchanges. Sure, they toed the line of flirtation more times than she could count in a day. But sometimes, she could tell there was something different about the way he said certain things. That's all fine and great but we gotta go! Let's go, Sami, get ready. Gym time! 🤗 All right, [Y/N]. Give me ten minutes, I'll be knocking at your door.  

Teal sports bra, black yoga shorts, teal Adidas on her feet. Hair in a high ponytail. She looked at herself in the mirror. Maybe some eyeliner? Nah, just mascara. She rubbed her hands together, shifted weight between her left leg and her right. "Ooh," she shivered. The AC was way too low. Might have been half the reason she couldn't sleep. She grabbed a towel out of her gym bag, and a water bottle out of the mini fridge. A knock. Her mouth widened into a smile as she turned to open the door. She opened it to find a just showered Sami Zayn, ginger curls at the top of his head dripping lightly with moisture. He looked up to meet her eyes, and her heart nearly stopped at the sight. Those lovely dark eyes could melt the most cold hearted bitch. He stood there for a moment, didn't say a word. She wondered what he was thinking. Then, "Good morning, [Y/N]." "Good morning, Sami. How'd you sleep?" She shut the door behind her, and they made their way towards the elevator. "Not well. Some girl kept me awake last night. Kept spewing a bunch of weird facts at me." "Really?" She grinned. "Why didn't you tell her to stop?" A button pressed. The ding of an elevator, doors swinging open. He placed an arm to hold the doors, motioning as if to say, "ladies first." She pressed the button for the second floor, above the lobby, where the gym was. "Well, I don't know. She was really opening my mind about a lot of things. I learned a lot. She's really intelligent." "Nah. I wouldn't say spewing useless information is a result of intelligence. Anyone can remember a couple bullshit facts." He poked her in the tummy. "Well, I think it's endearing." He shifted on his feet, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. "Did you know that most people who die in elevators are elevator technicians? Statistically, it's the safest form of travel." Sami chuckled silently to himself. "Unless you have an elevator technician degree I don't know about, I guess we're fine, then, huh?" The elevator jolted suddenly, scaring them both. She grabbed his hand instinctually, dropping it once the elevator continued its descent to the second floor. He looked at her, and they both laughed awkwardly. "Why were you awake all night?" Sami asked her, finally. "Um." It was getting cold, and she could feel herself beginning to shiver. "You can tell me. You know you can." It was hard to dismiss those puppy dog eyes of his. They bore into her soul, begging her to spill her secrets. "I had a, a nightmare." It sounded like a question. She placed her water bottle on the floor of the elevator, the condensation of the beverage freezing her fingers. "I couldn't go back to sleep, but. I didn't want to say anything." "You could've told me." "I know, it's just," she crossed her arms against her, trying to draw heat from her own body that wasn't there. "I didn't want to worry you." "Hey, [Y/N]." His voice was a mere whisper, hardly audible if they hadn't been standing in an elevator, two feet apart. Sami closed the distance between them. "Yeah?" She whispered back. He cupped her chin, lightly pressing at her jaw. Their eyes met, and the butterflies and her stomach began their fluttering song. His eyes ran over her, studying every line of her face. When they paused a bit too long at her lips, the doors swung open, the sharp "ding" of the elevator indicating they had finally made it to the second floor. [Y/N] looked away from him, towards the open doors, but as she made to move, Sami shifted his body, stopping her for just a moment before he pushed a button. The doors dinged closed, and she looked back at him, confused. "There's something I need to tell you, and I don't think I should tell you in the middle of the gym, where our friends can see us. In fact, we've been lucky so far that no one's stopped this elevator." He scanned her again, the look on his face full of love and adoration. "What is it, Sami? What's wrong?" "What's wrong?" He chuckled. "There's nothing wrong. Everything's absolutely perfect." He paused. Then he continued. "Fact. I'm in love with my best friend and I think she's in love with me, too." What? "You heard me. Fact. I'm in love with my best friend. And I think," he paused again, looking straight through to the dark recesses of her soul, "she's in love with me, too." This was un-freaking-believable. Her mind was spinning. It was like the whole world had been turned upside down. But why? Why was this so difficult to understand? Just moments ago her heart was fluttering. Moments ago, she was wishing this was true and now it was and it was the one fact in the world she couldn't believe. "Believe it, baby. That's one fact that'll never change. I'm in love with you." And then his mouth was on hers like it was meant to be there all along. His body leaned in, begging to be touched. Her fingers ran under his shirt, grazing the ginger hairs of his tummy and his chest, feeling the goosebumps rising from his skin. His tongue flicked over her lips, and she opened them, every one of her vulnerabilities drifting away as he kissed her more passionately with every fleeting second, his tongue searching for hers in longing, and she met him briefly, before pushing him back just an inch to catch her breath. Her eyes looked away, shifting everywhere but to his own. Their breaths slowed and deepened, each passing moment bathing her in serenity. At last, her eyes locked onto his. "Fact. I'm in love with you, too. Now and always." He granted her a smile that would not go away, a smile that felt like starlight and sunshine, all at once. And the butterflies never stopped fluttering.

"If you don't have too many requests, would you be able to do a Sami Zayn one where the reader stays up all night texting texting Sami facts he'll never need to know or use in life. When he asks her why she stayed up all night, she says it's because she had a nightmare but she was too afraid to tell him about it. If you want to do this, thanks!" - anon

[castiels-bro]

Show me

Summary: You and Castiel know each other for five years and you never had occasion to see his wings so you simply ask him to show them to you.

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warinings: very big wing!kink, smut (i’m not sure if I can call it that, because it’s just touching Cas hahs)

Words: 1451

A/N:  | Again, sorry for every mistake I made, English isn’t my first language. |

I read a few good stories with a wing!kink, but I couldn’t find one where it were the main thing, so I decided that I will write one! I hope you enjoy!

Tags:

@greenappleeyes @casbabydontgoineedyou @splendidcas @katymacsupernatural 

„Cassie, please, show them to me!” you yelled at him, trying to catch him in the hall. You knew Castiel for five years now and never had the occasion to see his wings. He was your best friend, that’s what he was calling himself, and he never said 'yes', but you saw that he was angry with you for running after him for like two weeks now and he almost broke.

Well, you just wanted to see them. Maybe touch, to check if the feathers were soft, but hey! You needed 5 minutes to do this! And he still was running away like he was afraid of something, but either way, he didn't wanted you to tell anything.

“Castiel!” you stood in front of him, so he wasn't able to just walk away again and pretend that you don't exist. “Please, Castiel. You know I won't do anything you don't wish me to.”you did your best puppy eyes that you learnd from Sammy. ”Boys aren't home, so we can do whatever we want and they won't jugde you, jugde us, and you are still... you.” he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I know, I know! But, Cas, please! You have the power to stop this. If I see them, I will stop asking, right?” he looked annoyed and that was kinda funny, because he looked like mad baby-penguin and all you knew was that that was the most cute thing to see.

“Just for a moment, okay?” he said low and you jumped, grabbed his hand and dragged him into your room, closing your door while smiling with exitement.

You sat on your bed and he stood right in front of you. That was this moment that you saw the power he had. He took off his trench coat and suit jacet, tossed both on a chair. He looked at you for a moment, and then, you saw that.

His wings were a lot bigger then you thought and a lot more destroyed. You knew that he healed them, but still...

It didn't changed anything, his wings were beautiful either way. And he saw it in your face. You were admiring them, your jaw dropped and your eyes shone. You shifted and stood up. Slowly coming closer, you extended a hand, but you moved it back and looked at your bed, smiling, and coming back to sit at it.

“Come here, Castiel.” you patted the space in front of your bed and he sat there, looking over his shoulder to your face. “Can I... touch them?” even  that you didn't get the answer yet, you touched the feathers. They were softer than anything you had ever touched. They were... the most delicate thing in the whole universe. You felt his wings tense up and heard that he held his breath.

You stroked his right wing, from behind him, the top part, the down part. You tickled every feather that you could and then you did the same thing to the left wing. You saw beauty in them, but you saw scars, scabs, bruises and a lot of wounds too and that made your heart ache. You felt tears in your eyes, but as quick as they appeared, you made them disappear and it was okay to feel this way.

You moved your hand a little closer to where his wings grow into his back, but in that part where still were feathers, and you were pretty sure he just moaned; so you did that again, a little bit harder. You heard him again and couldn't just let go of that beautiful sound. You started to stroke that place with your fingers, slowly, full of calm, just to try his tolerance for teasing.

“(Y/N)...” he breathed, but it was like a trans for you, so you moved your hand to that part – with just the down - that seemed to be even more delicate and his back arched like he wanted to escape from that overwhelmed pleasure, but didn't want it to stop at the same time. You started to massage that point.

You felt him tense up again, even more. He started to moan, but it was different than you had ever heard; it was loud, but calm... You knew the diffrence, but you weren't able to say it out loud. You wanted him to be even louder, so you started to do the same thing on his second wing with your other hand at the same time and that worked better then you expected.

He, as you wanted, became louder and he started to tremble and fidget. You did it a little harder and faster, worried that this could hurt him, and he just lost it.

His back arched again, his head fell on your shoulder and he practically melted into your touch. His eyes were closed and his lips parted. You added to your movements more presure and that made him scream your name, but you didn't heard that with your ears, you felt it like you knew that he was screaming. You just knew that.

Castiel closed his mouth and eyes, and started to squrim. He was a mess with the most beautiful sex face you had ever seen. You couldn't belive that you just made your best friend look like this, it was sending shivers to your throbbing core. You shift to create some friction, but it wasn't enough, you needed a lot more.

You couldn't hold yourself any longer and just started to leave wet, open mouth kisses on his exposed neck. Meanwhile you looked at his crotch and gasp at the sight. His trousers were too tight, because of that boner. He was really hard; you could see his exact shape. One of your hands left his wing and fell down to that bulgde, but right before you could touch him, he stopped your hand and moved it back to his wing.

“P-pl-please, d-d-d-don't st-st-sto-stop...” he moaned, it seemed to be really hard for him to form words and that hit you right in your sex. Your pace became faster and harder, and that broke him.

He really screamed. When he opend his mouth and eyes, bright blue light came out of him, his wings spread to its full size and he was squriming even wilder. If someone walked right now into the room, he would think that you just stabbed Castiel, but you saw diffrence. That light was a lot warmer and brighter than that one coming out of a murdered angel. The second one was that he was moaning really, really loud and it was clear for you, that it was pure pleasure.

Suddenly, you heard thunder outside. It sounded like it was just right above the bunker and you twitched, stopping every movement. It was pounding on the roof.

Few minutes later Castiel was still a little trembling, but his wings were invisible for you again. His eyes fell closed again and he was trying to catch his breath. You looked at his crotch again and he was still that hard, but there was no spot that you could consider as a cum. You got lost.

“Castiel... What the hell happened?” you just asked; you needed to know.

He slide off of your shoulder and hugged your pillow, resting.

“I-I just...”he still had problem with his breathing.”You... just...” you started to stroke his head and neck, he moaned quietly.”Y-you made... m-my true f-fo-form come...” he spilled finally, but you just froze.

“How could I...?” you moved back your hand a little ashemed.”Was that... okay? Did I made you feel good?”

He opend his eyes, hardly, and look at you barely seeing, and he nodded. His eyes closed again, but he tried and opend them for longer.

“It was... It was m-my first time. An-angels are d-doing this r-rarely... I did-didn't kn-know h-how a-amazing it f-feels.”he stuttered really hard. It made you smile, but looking at him like this, with his hard cock so evident... It was making you too horny to think or just forget.

“Cas...” you whisperd, not wanting to ask for sex, but really in need for it.

“I know, (Y/N), I kn-know. I-I just need a little rest... I pro-promise you that I w-will return every-everything, but-but please, lie down with m-me for a mo-moment.” he moved his hand to you and forced you to lie down beside him.

Cas' promise made you smile, but then, he snapped his fingers and you both were just in your underwear, under  duvet. His erection pressed to your ass, his hand found it's place on your clothed core and that closeness made you tremble.

You couldn't wait 'till he wakes up.

Read Part 2