#properly and they have a heartbeat. And he just pauses for a long while just. listening to their heart beating. Many emotions to be had

[dairyfreenugget]

(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)

Hey hey hey

May I interest you in

(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)

Teehee

[somebluemelodies]

SPIDERBIT WEEK hosted by @smallchaoscryptid !! day six: coffee | nautical IM FINALLY BACK !! i know mer au won my poll from a while back so this is kinda a double whammy? spiderbit week AND poll fic :D

For a while, Roier wonders if he’s ever gonna see the deepsea mer ever again. When he doesn’t see him the night after their initial meeting, he’s worried that the Feds may have gotten to the mer after all, and it pains him more than he cares to admit aloud.

But it’s not the last time. In fact, it happens multiple times, to the point where they have a weird schedule of sorts to meet every third day or so.

Communicating isn’t the easiest, with only Roier able to actually talk, but they make do, and he’s getting a real good hold of asking ‘yes or no’ questions or anything else that permits him to learn more about the deepsea mer.

Except for one thing. The mer’s name.

The mer can understand nearly everything Roier says, but he can’t write it. He can only write in his own strange mer-tongue, which is a series of characters that sends the pirate into a deeper confusion the more he tries to make sense of it.

For a little while, Roier contemplates giving the merman a name himself, but that feels a little unfair to the mer. He has a name, after all.

However, his mouth running faster than his mind produces a nickname, gatinho, as a result of staring at the mer for a little too long and getting lost in his eyes. Thankfully, though, the mer doesn’t seem to mind it, and Roier even swears it makes the creature blush. But that sounds like crazy talk, so he tries not to dwell on it.

Nevertheless, the nickname stays. If only because it’s… well… the truth.

(Mostly. He’s a mer, not a cat. Scales and no legs, not fur and four legs.)

(But God, if he isn’t the prettiest being Roier has ever seen.)

A couple weeks or so after their first initial meeting, Roier is sitting on the flattest rock closest to the water, the mer half out of the water in front of him with his arms resting on the rock. A routine, of sorts. Either here, or the cave.

“So, gatinho,” the pirate starts. “I need to figure out your name. We have to find some way. Because I can’t keep calling you gatinho forever.”

(But he’d certainly like to.)

The deepsea mer tilts his head slightly and shrugs, as if to say, “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“What? You like the name, huh?”

A pause, followed by a slow nod. Roier grins. “No mames, wey, this guy likes being called pretty. Like a cat. Are you sure you’re not a cat? I think you’re a cat in disguise.”

The mer looks borderline offended, trying to reach over and slap him. But the pirate pushes back, out of reach, smile growing with a laugh. “You’re swatting like a cat! Holy shit, man, I was right. I’m friends with a fucking cat. A catfish. No mames.”

There’s a growl of sorts from the merman, who definitely looks like he’s blushing now - focus, focus, focus, stop looking at him like that - and shoots up out of the water before Roier has a chance to properly react.

Next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back against the rock, and there’s a solid weight on top of him, two almost-glowing blue eyes staring him down.

(A small part of Roier wonders if he should be afraid right now. He’s seen the sharp teeth and fingers. This mer could theoretically kill him in a heartbeat. Right here, right now.)

(But he’s not afraid, God only knows why. No, he’s… no, no. Enough.)

Roier tries to mask the way his cheeks are rapidly warming up with an accomplished, shit-eating laugh. “Calma, gatinho, calma.”

The deepsea mer huffs, shaking his head before a small smile crosses his face despite himself. He leans down to really shove Roier’s shoulder, but makes no effort yet to get off.

(Not that Roier minds.)

More laughter, and then a lull, and their eyes meet again. Roier becomes acutely aware of just how close they actually are. The mer is staring at him in a way he can’t quite decipher, and it makes him increasingly nervous.

(A look of wonder. Awe.)

(The mer sees the same exact look in those dark eyes.)

The pirate tries to play it off, like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest and like his thoughts aren’t circling around the fact that if he sits up enough, their lips could brush. Connect. “See something you like, gatinho?”

The mer also seems to finally realize their current position, and with wide eyes, pushes himself off and all but dives back into the water. Roier kicks himself in the ass for mourning the loss of contact.

For a few moments, as the merman doesn’t surface, he wonders if he’s fled for the night, and starts to feel a little guilty for his teasing.

But then there’s movement, and he watches the deepsea mer breach the surface again, blowing out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything.”

The mer shakes his head. It’s okay.

(He did see something he liked.)

"Roier!"

The pirate's head whips around, seeing a silhouette in the far distance.

"Oh, shit-- that's Jaiden. I gotta go." He turns back to the mer. "Three days? And I will learn your name, gatinho."

The deepsea mer nods, and three things happen in succession.

One. The mer leaves him a piece of sea glass, a red one.

Two. He hesitates, then hoists himself onto the rock to press a kiss to Roier's cheek.

Three. He dives back into the water without looking back, disappearing in a fleeting glint of deep emerald and leaving Roier to touch his cheek in surprise.

"Roier!" Jaiden calls again, running over to him. "There you are! What're you doing out here?"

Roier clears his throat, willing his cheeks to cool down despite the darkness surrounding them. His best friend was eerily observant sometimes. "I was just... collecting sea glass. See? Look at this piece I found!" He picks up the piece, standing up to show her.

Jaiden looks at it before back to him, her brow quirking ever-so-slightly. "O...kay? Since when do you do that?"

"It's given me something to do recently."

She studies him another moment, trying to decipher the truth. If she doesn't believe him, she doesn't say it. Instead, she says, "fair. But I came to bring you back to the ship, c'mon."

They walk in a comfortable silence for a bit, until she speaks up again. "Y'know, I haven't seen much sea glass around here. You must have some awfully good luck; I see the little pile on the box beside your hammock."

Roier opens his hand, looking at the translucent red treasure as icy eyes infiltrate his mind, the ghost of lips warming his cheek. "Sí. Something like that."

[anonymous-rendezvous]

He Comforts You - Ike 💙

Ike Eveland x GN!Reader

✦ — Written by Mod I ✨. Beta Read and Edited by Mod S 👿.

✧ — Comfort & Care Masterlist | 💙 You comfort him

✦ — Contains: Established Relationship, fluff, & comfort

✧ — Word count: 446 | Ao3

Snippets of time showing how you and your partner care for each other.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

If you could only choose one word to describe how you were feeling after your day at work, it would be 'done'. Not only had your boss called out today, but they had also left you with the amount of work that would normally need three people to complete. Which meant you had to stay long after your shift had already ended. And you wouldn't even be paid more for it. You'd quit in a heartbeat if you could afford it.

You were all but stumbling as you entered your home. The door shutting behind you with a little more force than intended as you leaned your weight back against it. You don’t even have the energy to lean down to properly remove your shoes; toeing them off and leaving them haphazardly in front of the door. However, you don’t get even two steps further into the house before Ike emerges from the hallway. His expression softens at the sight of you, giving you a sincere smile. “Welcome home, darling.” You return his smile, albeit yours being a tired one.

He’s by your side in no time, taking your hand in his. The novelist starts leading you down the hallway and before you can even ask where you're going; he pushes the bathroom door open. The soothing smell of eucalyptus and spearmint fill the room thanks to the candles he’d lit beforehand; giving the room a soft glow. The tub was filled, and you eyed it longingly, no doubt that the water was still warm. Your attention is drawn back to your loving boyfriend as a hand lightly rests on the small of your back, the warmth radiating through your clothes “Come on darling, let's get you in, shall we?” His hand glides up to help slip off your jacket. “I have the kettle on if you want a cup of tea while you soak.”

“Ike you didn’t have to do all this–”

He silences you with a gentle peck to your lips, “You’ve had such a rough day hun, just let me treat you.” He helps remove the rest of your clothes before helping you into the tub. As you sink further into the warm water, you can’t help but release a sigh of contentment. He chuckles affectionately, kneeling beside the tub so he can brush aside a few stray strands of hair before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back with your tea in a moment. Take as long in the tub as you need.”

Just before he leaves the room, you call out to him. He pauses with a questioning hum. “Thank you, Ike. I seriously appreciate it.”

“Of course, my dear.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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We do not allow our stories to be translated or reposted/shared anywhere. The only places our stories should be found are on Ao3 or Tumblr. Nowhere else.

[herebegiants]

Drunk Giant

Nick’s feathers ruffled. Freezing as Chris locked eyes with him and broke into a grin, cooing something in his other tongue as he stomped over like a living earthquake. His arms stretched out like he wanted to give him a hug of all things, and not the sort that’d leave his ribs intact.

It struck Nick then and there that he’d never considered what it’d be like to be around a drunk giant, even a well meaning one. And now he was going to find out - whether he was ready for it or not.

“Chrissss…? Big guyy…?”

He held a hand out as he stepped back, as if that would stop him. But for whatever reason his limbs had locked up, the idea of flying away not even occurring to him until the living mountain was already dropping onto his knees with a thUD so hard it knocked Nick back onto his rear, and at that point he was far too close. Nick could see himself trying to bolt, only to be snatched out of midair - the most surefire way to guarantee getting crushed in the process. 

He scrambled back to his feet, throwing his hands up with a shout as the giant reached for him. The hand mercifully paused. His own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Don’t-! Hooooo… Yeah, don’t- Nooo grabbing, big guy! Heh - I’m- I’m a lot more delicate than you’re probably thinking! Like, this…”

The giant’s lips pressed thin. A pout of all things twisting his brow as he whined. His hand settling onto the table.

“Maalen'kiy priyatelll’…” the pungent smell of liquor washed over him with Chris’s breath, “Yer scared uh mee?…”

Nick jumped as the hand shifted. His feathers fluffing up nearly twice his size as it raised, pointing a limp finger toward him as it drew closer. For the first time since they’d met, suddenly he could think of nothing but how massive his friend’s hands were compared to him.

“M’not gonna hurt youu…”

Sure, he wouldn’t mean to, but it wasn’t like his motor skills were all that after who knew how many drinks. And Nick wasn’t so sure he wanted to find out. Yet he froze up. His feathers trembling as he watched the finger come down, down-

Only to barely touch the top of his head.

Nick didn’t move. He barely breathed. Staring dead ahead with wide, unblinking eyes.

A grin stretched back over Chris’s lips, and he rolled a rumbling giggle as he set his chin down to the table. A coo on his breath as he slid his other arm around behind Nick, not seeming to think about how surrounded it left him. His finger brushing his hair side to side.

“S’okayy. M’ss’kay…”

Nick sucked in a shaky breath. Reminding himself to breathe as he looked up to meet his eyes. The giant hummed a contented coo, looking the happiest he’d seen him in a long while, and let his own eyes fall shut. His finger pulled away to settle on the wood again, leaving Nick’s hair a ruffled mess. 

Nick took in a deep, steadying breath, and at the same time the air rushed past him with Chris’s heavy sigh, bringing with it all the more liquor-stink and sending Nick buckling as he coughed. He shot Chris an irritated scowl, waving away the smell as much as he could, but it wasn’t like he even noticed. He seemed ready to fall asleep then and there. His enormous head tilting slowly to the side as his smile began to fall. His cheek pressing into his own shoulder in a way that left his jaw slack.

Nick studied him. His feathers gradually falling smooth again. Hesitantly, he stepped closer. Just barely tall enough to reach his nose, and he gave it a pat. Unable to help the guilt that sunk in his chest for doubting him, though he genuinely couldn’t tell if he’d only been gentle because he’d reminded him to be. Still, he felt bad about it.

“… thank you…”

Chris’s brow pinched up. His smile returning with a coo at the little touch. His eyelids wavered as he tried to open them, apparently growing heavy fast, but he managed to look at him. His eyes having to cross to see him properly.

“Mm’yer blurry, like this…”

Nick’s brow shot up, before he remembered why something felt off about being so close to him. He snorted, quirking a brow as he cracked a smile of his own.

“Yeah? Where’re your glasses, big guy? Didn’t break ‘em out there, right?”

“Mm’noo.”

Chris frowned, though he was far too groggy for his face to follow through in less than several seconds. His eyes falling shut again.

“Mmmm. Don’t need ‘em now, anyway…”

Nick puffed another snort. His smile growing now that he had the peace of mind to be able to approach willingly instead of being approached. It was silly, now that there wasn’t an apparent danger, and he felt like he was acting like a frightened animal. But in this situation maybe he was - aside from the animal part.

“You think I’d hurt youuu…” Chris complained. His arms shifting closer behind Nick’s back, though he didn’t touch. “D’yeh not trust me…?”

“You’re drunk, big guy. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Chris grumbled, but he said nothing more. Only pushing his nose further into Nick’s palm with another whine. A sorry look twisting his brow.

Which, despite the fact he was so much bigger, sent a fond pang through Nick’s heart. A coo of his own lilting out as he chuckled.

“Yeahh? Needin’ attention? Am I not giving you enough?”

Another whine. Chris’s arms shifted closer, touching against Nick’s back and making him jump, pulling out a far more nervous chuckle as he gave the living wall a pat.

“H-heyy - don’t forget-! Well, honestly I’d, rather you don’t try to hug me at all like this. Sorry.”

Chris’s brow twisted all the more. His whine rising and falling in a long, sad protest.

“S’yeh don’t trust me…”

“Not like this, bud. M’sorry,” Nick offered again, giving his nose a pat. “I know you wouldn’t mean to, but you’d only have to make one mistake for us both to regret it. And I know you wouldn’t be able to deal with that, either. I’d rather play it safe than risk it.”

Chris melted, sighing out one last whine. He tipped his head down, pushing his nose past Nick’s hand and into his middle, nearly knocking him over. His lips pressed thin, regretting having gotten drunk now in the first place.

Nick hummed a sorry note. His brow twisting up with a mix of endearment and sympathy. How easily this giant turned into a puddle - and when he usually had such a grumpy demeanor in the first place. It could’ve fooled him. It very nearly had, at the beginning. And as much as he didn’t want to be hugged now, he very much wished he could’ve been. 

Ah well, he’d just have to make up for it himself.

He leaned into the bridge of Chris’s nose, pressing his forehead into its side and stretching his wings out over his face, hugging as much as he could. A sad, fond coo rolled out on the giant’s breath. His head barely shifting before he caught himself from leaning in too much more, and he let his cheek fall back into his shoulder with a sigh, lifting Nick clear off his feet as he took him with him.

Nick squawked, at first clinging to his face. But then he relaxed again with a sigh of his own, snickering to himself.

“This is why I wanted to play it safe,” he teased, getting a tired frown and a grumble in response. He gave the cheek beside him a pat, settling down and heaving a sigh. 

This he was fine with. Nothing could go wrong just by laying on him.

[doonarose]

The first one that’s right.

(Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale kissing and romance fic)

Rating: PG/T

Rationale: I’m still processing Season 2 (loved it, no complaints), but we know Aziraphale and Crowley will come out of Season 3 talking to each other properly, and acknowledging, out loud, that they love each other, and actually planning for a future together. And that’s a delicious setting to play in while I figure out how the hell they get there. So, that future, begs the following fic…

Summary: Aziraphale would like to try the thing they did with their mouths that night it all blew up and no, he does not mean, speaking.

Count: 2500ish

“Crowley, you remember when I went to heaven to do The Second Coming?”

Crowley really cannot believe Aziraphale just casually asked him that.

Aziraphale continues quickly, “Right before I left, when we spoke…” he pauses.

When we spoke! Crowley’s mouth has fallen open, his brow furrowed incredulously, a reaction that seems entirely restrained in the face of such audacity. He wills Aziraphale to drop it, eyes flashing a warning as he steps a little closer, crowding into Aziraphale’s space.

Aziraphale manages to clasp his hands together in the gap between them, fidgeting as his gaze shifts to focus on the floor off to the side. It’s a drizzly Wednesday afternoon in the bookshop, completely innocuous, except Aziraphale has chosen today to trap Crowley in a doorway, stand squarely, infuriatingly, in front of him, and ask him if he remembers that day and that conversation.

“Yes, right, when we spoke, that day,” he continues as though Crowley actually had said he remembered. “Well, I think I would like to try that again.”

“Speaking?” Crowley manages to squeeze an extra syllable into the word. It’s absurd but the alternative is that Aziraphale wants to try the second coming again and that’s just not possible. “You’d like to try speaking again. We speak all the time now, Angel, I hardly think we need to do it more.” That’s true, they are much better at speaking now, at talking to each other and listening. They’re getting better, but that doesn’t mean Crowley wants to talk about that.

“No!” Realization dawns on Aziraphale’s face, “Oh, no!” his eyes going wide and his cheeks flushing pink, “Oh, goodness, no, not that. Of course not, I wouldn’t – I’m sorry – ” He grabs Crowley at the top of his arms and squeezes. He takes a deep breath, something Crowley thinks Nina might have taught him. “I love you.” It recenters both of them, lightens the air in the room, and Crowley feels his heartbeat slow and settle, his fight or flight response thwarted with those three simple words of assurance. He rolls his eyes and shrugs Aziraphale’s hands off his arms, the dismissiveness more out of muscle memory than anything else, but the corner of his lips also twitches up. He knows Aziraphale knows he doesn’t always say it back and that’s okay.

Aziraphale’s hands, now hanging unoccupied at his sides, flex sporadically. “Actually, I meant the other thing… with your mouth.”

Oh. Oh. After too long a beat, Crowley manages to say it out loud, “Oh.”

“Only if you wanted to,” Aziraphale rushes. “Obviously only if you wanted to. And we could stop if you didn’t like it and never talk about it again. I just thought we should try it since we’re kind of, well we’re together now and that’s what you do – it’s what lots of people, humans, do, anyway – and the other time was terrible but that wasn’t our fault and –”

“Terrible?!” Crowley squawks, cutting him off.

“Well, no, not terrible, sorry, oh gosh I’m making a mess of this. Humans make relationships look so easy.” Aziraphale whines, covering his face with both hands and blushing pink beneath them.

Crowley has, of course, thought about kissing Aziraphale, sometimes entirely by accident, but, more often than not, very much, quite on purpose. Somehow, it has never occurred to him that it is something Aziraphale might have thought about, too, and after that one, indeed quite doomed attempt, it is taking him quite a long time to process the proposition. What hadn’t Aziraphale just come and kissed him?

Aziraphale continues to blather: “Can we please just pretend I never said anything. We’re doing so nicely now, we’re both much happier, and I shouldn’t have brought all that up again.”

That sinking, bottomless pit feeling in Crowley’s stomach appears. The threat of losing something he never quite had, a feeling he’s unfairly intimate with but learning how to process and to shrug off as not automatically inevitable. And it’s not the world, or Aziraphale, or his freedom that is about to be snatched away. Just a kiss. Angels, certainly demons, aren’t even meant to kiss – definitely not the way he wants to kiss Aziraphale. That’s the domain of humans and all their weird humanity, smushing their wet food/talk/breath holes together as though it’s some sort of fun. What is that even about? Surely one of God’s more bizarre pranks.

Oh, but he really, really wants to. The pang of potential loss makes his stomach twist and his fingertips itch to grab and hold fast and try to kiss all the doubt out of Aziraphale.

But that didn’t go so well last time.

He’s learning, though. “Hang on a minute,” he says, sounding less calm than he’d intended.

Aziraphale fidgets and shakes his head, pouting and tutting because Crowley’s already been standing there, processing, for too long.

“Was it really that terrible?” What Crowley wanted to say was something like ‘Yes please, let’s try it, don’t worry, it’s going to be great!’

“No!” Aziraphale sighs, and tries it more gently, “No, it just wasn’t… I mean everything around it was terrible, wasn’t it?” Crowley’s eyes narrow and an eyebrow arches. “Well, no, I mean, what you said was… lovely… illuminating… It was everything I wanted to hear even if I didn’t know it. But it wasn’t the right time and I didn’t expect you – well, you, I didn’t expect… It was a surprise, when you kissed me, and it wasn’t terrible but I think we can both agree it wasn’t exactly… good.” Aziraphale goes still, bracing for the impact of more argument or indignation or having to backtrack again.

Crowley says nothing, just watches him, for another too-long moment. “So, you want to try again?”

Aziraphale can’t help but break into a proper smile at the infinitesimal, possible progress: ever the optimist. “Yes! That’s all, and as I said, if it’s awful or you don’t like it, of course, we never have to do it again. I just thought it made sense to ask, to try... well to ask to try. But if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, just say the word and – ”

“I want to.”

“Oh. Okay…Good.”

Crowley keeps count as the seconds pass. He makes it to twelve before he absolutely has to say something. “Ready when you are, Angel.” He swallows because that felt brave in the face of how fast he can feel his heart thumping, how stupidly vulnerable and nervous this is making him feel.

But then he sees Aziraphale’s gaze snap up to meet his, eyes going comically wide, and Crowley realizes Aziraphale’s been staring at his mouth those whole twelve seconds. It makes him even braver, the nerves and the vulnerability still there, but something playful and teasing, their natural rhythm, working its way into the moment.

Aziraphale starts to nod, building resolve even as his eyes slip back to down to Crowley’s lips which Crowley licks and purses before he can stop himself. Aziraphale swallows heavily and checks, “Here? And… and now?”

“I can meet you somewhere else later, if you’d prefer,” Crowley teases some more.

Huffing, Aziraphale flexes his shoulders back once and then grasps Crowley by the upper arms. He hesitates a second longer and then he’s pulling Crowley into him, angling his face to meet Crowley’s lips in a firm, warm press.

It is not dissimilar to the one other time they did this, albeit without all the drama, trauma and world-destroying stakes. Instead, it’s just them, wilfully, openly in love, mouth to mouth in a doorway in the bookshop. Trying kissing.

Aziraphale smells good, better than expected this close, more earthy, more like skin, and his lips are unbelievably soft. Crowley thinks he can taste the remnants of an Earl Grey tea with two sugars and perhaps a scone. He wonders what Aziraphale is thinking and then he realizes he should really, probably shut his eyes, and so he does. He tries to relax into the tight grip around his biceps, leaning into the unconventional embrace instead of just being held there.

This is so weird.

They’re not moving. Crowley’s pretty sure they’re meant to be moving, not just pressing. He realizes with a start that Aziraphale isn’t breathing at all and opens his eyes to check he’s okay and again, it’s just blurry tanned skin splashed with pink, dark splayed eyelashes that he could count if he wanted to because at least Aziraphale got the memo about closing his eyes. The view is strangely captivating even as the static and uncertain press of their mouths is beginning to border on too weird.  And Crowley’s not breathing either and then suddenly he’s breathless.

They break apart on seemingly mutual terms and both take a step back rendering a larger than expected distance between them. Crowley makes a conscious effort to breathe and Aziraphale’s eyes flutter open beautifully.

Crowley won’t say out loud what he’s thinking, he’s not sure he could articulate it very well and it would certainly feature the words ‘weird’ and ‘unexpected’ and ‘woops’. None of which he thinks will be conducive to ever getting to try that again.

But it’s written across Aziraphale’s face, the mirrored consternation that that wasn’t what it was meant to be, it wasn’t like in the books, or the movies, or even a little bit what they imagined. Crowley starts concocting a plan with multiple steps, subterfuge, and, in all likelihood, weather.

Aziraphale licks his lips, takes two determined steps forward and lifts both hands to Crowley’s face, gently holding him there with his palms spread across his cheeks, fingers dipping easily into his hair. He takes only a moment to run both thumbs from the centre of Crowley’s lips out, tracing the crease, tugging ever so gently on his bottom lip, and then across the arch of each cheek. He shifts one hand, sliding it around the back of Crowley’s neck, his thumb pressed to the corner of Crowley’s jaw, and then he pulls him down, rising onto his toes just a little to meet him, to press their lips together again.

Crowley’s eyes fall shut instinctively this time and a small sigh of relief escapes against Aziraphale’s lips. They’re still just pressing together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, but he’s alive and responding – giving and taking – with him and against him. Aziraphale’s fingers dance across his cheek bone, his other palm warm and secure against the back of Crowley’s neck; Aziraphale’s mouth pressing and pursing against Crowley’s mouth like he plans to try every possible angle and sample each square millimetre. Shifting from bottom lip to top, then back again before drawing the lightest friction of lips on lips as he shifts to kiss at the corner of Crowley’s mouth. Back again and again and again.

Crowley’s hands move to Aziraphale’s sides, grasping the material of his jacket but it isn’t enough of an anchor. They slide to the small of his back, again grabbing fistfuls of the soft material, drawing him in, closer, warmer, dearer, safer, snug.

And this is what proper kissing is like.

Arms slipping further, tighter still, Crowley encompasses him as much as he can, an arm snaking up Aziraphale’s back to rest one hand heavy and petting between his shoulder blades, while the other arm wraps around his waist, fingers finding purchase in the material once more. His lips meet Aziraphale’s in each soft, exploratory press even as his breath comes quicker and not quite enough. He ignores the need to breathe and plan and hope, and instead focuses on everywhere they’re touching and the contented thrum of everything feeling right that settles deep within his chest.

When Aziraphale pulls back it’s only the necessary millimetres to switch their angle and feel the press of Crowley’s nose into his opposite cheek, but even that withdrawal, already over before its reacted to, pulls a tiny, forlorn whimper from Crowley that he’s not able to swallow. And that makes Aziraphale giggle. Right up against Crowley’s lips, a hot puff of air and laughter that Aziraphale immediately tries to stop.

Except Crowley knows, immediately, that he will do anything and everything in his power to make Aziraphale do that again, even if it involves making very undemonic, needy, whiney noises. The thought makes him smile, lips stretching against Aziraphale’s, and the kiss ends far more easily than it began.

They don’t pull apart; their eyes don’t open. Aziraphale’s hands drop and slip easily into Crowley’s blazer and back around his waist. His head tucks up against Crowley’s chest and cheek, finding a perfect spot there, just the right height, to nestle. Crowley entertains his instincts and nuzzles into the white curls at Aziraphale’s temple. He presses a firm kiss there because he can’t help himself.

Crowley wonders how long they’ll be able to hold this perfect moment, to stand here, barely breathing, in such bliss. He wonders why on Earth pressing their mouths together – kissing – feels like that. He wonders when they’ll do it again, how often, how many times, for how long. Will it ever be this good again? What if it gets even better? What else might Aziraphale deign to try of kisses and romance and human love? He wonders what Aziraphale is wondering.

Aziraphale takes a long, loud breath against his clavicle and then blows it out, Crowley can feel him smiling. “We,” Aziraphale says, “Are definitely doing that again.”

Crowley’s contented, happy sigh borders on a shudder but he manages a simple, casual, “Of course, Angel,” into Aziraphale’s hair.

Aziraphale hums his happiness and starts pulling back from the embrace far too soon for Crowley’s liking. When he steps back, though, it’s a thing to behold: his lips and cheeks flushed pink, blue eyes shining and his always mussed hair somehow still conveying that, yes, indeed, he’d just been kissed.

“Fancy a spot of tea?” Aziraphale asks more out of habit than expectation, as he smooths down his waistcoat and straightens his bowtie.  

Surprising even himself, Crowley responds, “Yes, I rather do.”

***

Now with a follow up companion piece (and likely to become a short series of their early kisses): The second one that's quite rubbish And also on AO3!

A/N: I wrote a thing?! It’s an extremely sappy thing by my standards (kind of) but certainly what they deserved. I’m waiting on my AO3 account since that seems the way to do things these days. I haven’t written fic in over eight years and I am still finding character and voice with these two so feedback or discussions very welcome! This is just the first part of at least eight, each delving into a subsequent kiss because, clearly, I am a total sappy sap. And then also a potential (unlikely) opus to try to bridge Season 2 to this blissful future.

A/N2: So I posted this pretty much exactly a month ago and since then I've written... over 30K words that follows on from this beginning and you can go and read all of it here as well as two 8k stand alones that just jump to the good (explicit) bit.

[zoeykallus]

Hey hey! 👋

First. I just love how creative your stories and headcanon are. Keep going, you're doing good! I m sending good vibes into your way ✨

So! I was wondering if you would write some HC on the theme "Can you check on me?" Please? ~

With the CF 99' (and maybe Omega too), Howzer, Rex, and anyone who think of. In an established relationship or not, as you wish! 🎶

Aloha! Thank you very much! :)) Sorry you had to wait so long for this, let me see what I can do....

The Bad Batch x Afab!Reader HC's - Can You Check On Me?

Warnings: Mention Of Menstrual Bleeding (No graphic description)/Fluffy/Suggestive/Crosshair

__________

Hunter

He knows what's going on when you ask him to check on your behind. Poor Hunter's senses are full of you around a week before and while you are menstruating. To him, your hormones are all over the place. He's a bit stressed about it, but all you see is your sweet man, being calm and collected as he's doing you the favor to check.

"Nothing to see, except a really sweet butt, Mesh'la"

You feel heat creep into your cheeks and ears.

"Aren't you a charmer"

You have no idea how much he's trying not to be all over you, by now he's a master at hiding things like that. Hunter doesn't want to come across like a creep or one of those guys simply controlled by their private parts. It's not his fault his senses give him a hard time.

Echo

"Check on what?"

"My behind"

He blinks, blushes a bit and says, "Oookay, and what am I to check your sweet butt for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary"

Echo scratches the back of his head and says, "There is nothing out of the ordinary. Should there be?"

You chuckle and shake your head, giving him a little kiss.

"No, Echo. I have my monthly thing... you know. I was just afraid it might show"

He needs two heartbeats, but then he nods.

"Oh now I get it. No, there is nothing, you're all good"

With a smirk, he adds, "But I keep checking regularly, just in case"

Wrecker

"Can you check on me?"

"For what, hun?"

"My behind"

Wrecker blinks.

"You want me to check out your butt?"

As you nod, he shrugs and does as he is told.

"Hmm"

"What?", you ask, alarmed.

"Well, very nice view, sweet cheeks, could do this a while longer"

"So there is nothing out of the ordinary?", you ask with a little sigh.

"No nothin'", he says chuckling, "What did you expect? A third buttock?"

You sigh but have to grin.

"Don't be silly, Wrecker. No, I got monthly thing and..."

"Oh, say no more, I get it. You're good, nothin' to see"

You kiss his chin.

"Thanks big guy"

Tech

"Can you please check on my behind?"

Tech pauses and looks up.

"What?"

"My behind, would you check it please"

He blinks and says a little confused, "I very regularly check on your behind. I didn't know you were actually into me doing that"

You blink and turn around to look at him again, a little surprised.

"You what?"

Tech blinks, tightening his grip around his holopad a little more.

"Oh, judging by your surprise, I guess your request was of a different nature than I thought."

"You have a thing for my ass?", you ask with a smirk.

Blushing, Tech answers, "I thought it was obvious. But it seems I was hiding my admiring glances quite well"

You kiss his rosy cheek and say, "We should really look into that habit of yours later, but for now, I just wanted to know if I'm good to go. No stains or anything?"

Clever Tech finally knows what's going on.

"You mean because of your menstrual bleeding? There is nothing to see, you're clean"

"Good, thanks"

After clearing his throat, he says, "I'll keep checking sporadically"

Crosshair

He's reacting not the way you expected him to, when you ask the question.

"Sure. Turn around"

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading it properly, making you squeal in surprise.

"Feels okay"

"I didn't mean..." you interrupt yourself and say angrily, "Okay?! Just okay?!"

You can hear him chuckle behind you as he drags you into a nearby, lonely corner.

"Okay enough for me to want you right here and now. Come on, down with your pants", he hums into your ear.

His voice, the closeness of his body, the way he presses against you, you almost do as he says.

"Stop!"

Crosshair freezes.

"What is it?"

"I asked you to check on me because... you know, I got my monthly thing and I wanted to know if there are stains or anything"

Crosshair takes a deep breath and sighs, surrendering. He looks at you and says, "No stains, you're good"

"Thanks"

"Freakin' tease"

"Look who's talking", you chuckle.

He smirks and grabs your hand.

"Come on, let's go get condoms"

"But-"

"Hey, as long as you are not in pain, I don't mind. You've got me all riled up"

You chuckle, "I didn't do anything"

"Shut up, Kitten", he says softly, pulling you along.

Rex

"What?"

He's flustered and can't really tell if you joke around, messing with him.

"Would you check my behind, the bottom of my pants"

Rex shrugs and looks at your butt. But he says nothing.

"And?"

"And what?", he asks, puzzled.

"Is there anything out of the ordinary? Stains, maybe?"

Frowning, he says, "No. Why would there be?"

But then he remembers.

"Oh, okay, sorry. I'm slow to catch on today. Your monthly thing, right?"

You nod with a little smile.

"Nothing to see, everything clean. But I don't mind checking occasionally", he says with a little chuckle, and kisses your temple, giving your ass a soft little pat.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

[elletheactualmenace]

Curls

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt really likes your curly hair.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k (ish)

a/n: I hate this so much. Started it a while back and finished it now. I think it’s pretty gender neutral, so there’s that. I just can’t express how much this pains me but, here you go. Enjoy.

It has been a long week of work and running around for people, that you have had no time with Matt. He himself has been busy with work on a case. Early this morning you had taken a shower to make up for the one lost to your work last night. So your hair is still slightly wet from the water. And your curls were starting to dry in swirls.

As you finish the last thing before lunch your phone rings. It’s your boyfriend, and you happily take the call.

“Hey Matt.”

“Hi Y/n, sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”

“No, you’re good. I should be thanking you now that I get to start lunch earlier.” You laugh into the phone with a smile on your face.

“Oh? Well lucky you, I'm still stuck on the cross examination. But I'm happy I can hear your voice.“ You can hear the smile in his words.

“Me too. But I can’t wait to get home and squeeze you in my arms.” You joke.

“On that note, the reason I called, I was wondering if you are free tonight?”

“Why are you planning something? ” You ask with a raised brow.

“Not really I was hoping to-“

“I swear if it isn’t just ordering in and talking I'm not interested,” You shrug out.

“Actually that’s exactly what I had in mind” he says smirking..

“Oh thank god,” You breathe.

“Also, be careful with your hair, it's probably still wet from this morning. And I would hate for you to not like the turn out.” Matt notes and you grin.

“Aww you're worried about my hair? That’s cute Matty. But no need to worry, I have been careful, I'm always careful.” You say with happiness and Matt smiles.

“Good! I can’t wait to-“ Matt gets cut off.

“Y/n! Hey come over here we are about to head out!” Your work friend says, and immediately Matt knew he should be going too.

“I-“

“Go, It’s fine.” He reassures you.

“Ok thanks, can’t wait to see you, ok bye!” Matt chuckles as you hang up just wanting to kiss you more and more by the second.

——

On your way home you hear a sound coming from a building top. It sounds like people are fighting. You look up and you see the tops of two heads being punched simultaneously. 

With confusion you wait to see if anything else will happen. Then as the men fall the one and only Daredevil’s head pops out from the top of the building. You can see a smile plastered on his lips, along with some blood. 

You know he can hear you and your loud heartbeat at the sight of him. And you smile back walking away. He knows that you saw him so he quickly runs off to get ready for your arrival home.

When you get home you see takeout from your favorite pizza place and you hear Matt in the kitchen. You take off your shoes and turn the corner. 

“Honey I'm home!” You say raping your arms around Matt’s torso from behind.  

“Mhhh. Pizzas just in.” He hums, turning and hugging you properly.

“I'm starving ” You say, pulling away from the hug, and grab the two plates on the counter. Matt, honest to god, pouts at the loss of contact. He then grabs hold of your waist while you lead him to the couch. 

“What happened to, ‘I can't wait to squeeze you when I get back?’” Matt asks questioningly.

“Pizza did! But I still love you more, and I always will.” You say before sitting down, Matt follows suit shortly after. As you set the plates in front of the both of you Matt placed the pizza down on each plate.

“How did you get home so quickly? It’s been what? 25 minutes?” You ask while taking a bite of pizza.

“I ordered the pizza before and I ran,” He pauses, “really fast.” You smile at the stupid end of his sentence.

“‘Really fast?’ or just ‘kind of really fast?’” You ask sarcastically, and he shoves you with his shoulder. You just laugh at his smiling face.

You lean in and sniff him. “You took a shower?” He nodded in response, chewing his slice.

“God. you are ‘really fast,’ I could never.” You chuckle at your sarcastic comment and so does Matt.

——

The now empty pizza box lays on the coffee table. You are laying on Matt's chest while he plays with your hair.

“Can I tell you something?” Matt asks, still stroking your hair. 

“Umm, sure, what is it, Matty?” You ask.

“So you told me you have curly hair.” You hum as a response for him to continue.

“It’s always most easily noticeable after you wash it. And I think it’s adorable.”

You look up at his face. His face is pointed towards you but his eyes are looking just above your eyebrows.

“You know, I think you are cute when you say stupid things like that.”

“‘Stupid thing?’” He questions with a wide grin “it’s not stupid. It's you so it can’t be. Plus I've always loved the feeling of your hair and I thought I would make an observation” He retorts crossing his arms around your body to make a point.

“You like my hair?” 

“Love.”

“How so? If I might ask?” You raise a brow.

“Well, it’s soft, and it has texture but in a different way than one might think. I love the way it swirls in small spirals that create more layers or volume. I absolutely love to trace the spirals each strand makes. It’s calming.” It's true and often Matt finds himself doing subconsciously.” I don’t exactly know what it looks like but I think I get more from feeling. Besides, I always did like breaking the rules, feeling not looking.” He referred to the saying “look don’t touch” but clearly the man can’t see so really there is only one opinion.

“That’s true Mr. Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” you playfully hit his chest. “But I mean, I didn’t realize how much you…I don’t know…pay attention to that sort of thing..” you trail off.

“What thing? Hair?” He asks.

“I guess, it’s just in my past relationships they didn’t have enough energy to care or notice. But you do and I love it. I love that about you, how you notice seemingly Insignificant things.” You smile cuddling closer into his chest.

“Well this isn’t just any relationship. I want this to last. And if me pointing out your hair, that I am totally not jealous of, makes you happy then I’m happy.” He says stroking your hair and twisting his finger around the strands.

“Oh shush. Your hair is perfect.” You snort out.

“I think any hairdresser would disagree.” He laughs out.

“I beg to differ, I personally think that your hair is amazing plus it’s attractive. Especially when it's messy bed head hair.” You say with a smile.

“Really so all my years of struggling with my hair have gone to waste? I could have just kept it how it was?” He asks sarcastically.

“It looks good done too, I just also love how it looks when it’s messy.” You smile

“Love?” He asks.

“Love. Always.” You restate.

“I love you. So much. More than anything. Sometimes I forget to show you how much I appreciate you. And I'm sorry, but I hope moments like these last forever.” Matt says switching positions so you are by his side on the sofa.

“Well, shit Matt. How am I supposed to follow up on that?” Matt laughs letting his head rest in the crock of your neck.

“Then don’t say anything and hold me while I hold you.”

——

After a couple days your hair is ready to be washed again. As you are about to get into the shower Matt stops you.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yes Matty?” You turn, towel in hand.

“Can I- I mean if you're okay with it, could I maybe..”

“Matt. Spit it out already.” You huff out in a chuckle.

“Could I shower with you?” He asks you slightly, biting his lip. And dear lord was that hot.

You chuckle striding over to him. “Always. Whenever. I don’t mind at all. Actually if this becomes a usual thing then I will mind if you don’t shower with me at least every once and a while.” Matt grins and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You squeal slightly not expecting his fast movements. 

When you get into the shower you grab the shampoo for your curls. Matt listens to your movements intently with his head tilted to the side. You lather your hair, and Matt does the same with a different shampoo, still listening and noticing your moves. He observes you rinsing it out, without a thought on your mind. He thinks it's incredible how when you are doing almost nothing and thinking about almost nothing, you are the most attractive person on earth.

He snaps out of his daze when the lid to your conditioner bottle opens. He stops your actions by placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, I was wondering, can you teach me how to do your hair routine?” Matt asked in a soft almost unhearable tired voice. All the things swirling in your head stopped simultaneously. 

What? Did he just- did he ask you to teach him your hair routine?

“Umm… of course I can. May I ask why?” You say turning to him as he stepped under the showerhead to rinse out his shampoo.

“Well I was thinking about it, you know mine and can do it, I want to be able to do the same, and I want to know how my favorite person's hair becomes the way it is.” He says it like it is an obvious answer to your question.

“Ok, sure, why not?” He smiles and quickly kisses your temple. You tilt your head to give him a peck on the cheek.

You show him all the steps of your hair routine, and while you do so, you show him the best way to do each step, and what to avoid doing. He listens and mentally notes everything you say. Once you tell him how to do a step, you let him do one side of your hair, with your guidance. After you finish up in the shower you show him how you dry your hair and he listens without saying anything. You do the last bit on your own with him just observing you.

“That was a lot to throw at you,” you laugh at his serious thinking face. “Hope it wasn’t too hard to understand. I'm not good at explaining and well there was a lot to explain. Obviously you don’t have to do that again if you don’t want to, it was kind of a lot.” You say wrapping a towel around your body. He already has one around him.

“No, I would love to do that again. This time I was just trying to possess it all. That was incredible, I can’t believe you do that every time you wash your hair. You're amazing.” He wraps his and around your waist and you lean into his touch. Your hands wrapping about his torso.

“That sweet, especially coming from you. I can’t believe you actually care this much about my hair.” You say in disbelief. “You’re amazing. I love you so much. More than you could ever understand.” You add. You stand on your toes to reach his lips and kiss them. He leans in and wraps his strong arms around your toweled waist. And from that subtle gesture you knew he is feeling the exact same warmth in his heart as you are.

[daughterofyourdarklord]

Tell us the truth. Delphini isn’t the only one who calls Tom Riddle daddy?

He hears her slip into the room before he sees her. 

Lord Voldemort cracks his eyes open, glancing towards the large double doors where he catches a glimpse of her lithe frame blocking the candlelight. She pauses for a moment clearly taking in the sight before her, giving him a second to appreciate her figure. 

Bellatrix closes the doors to their adorning rooms carefully, her steps quiet as she ventures closer to their bed. His witch is very obviously biting back a large grin, eyes glittering over his face before drifting down to the little body cuddled against his chest. She’d already shed her robes, slipping quickly into her night dress before sliding beside him in the large bed. 

“Hi,” she whispers, all a smile. Her knuckles brush gently across his sharp cheek, thumb caressing his jaw before her hands settle lower to rest against a tiny back.  

“I take it everything went well?” He’s looking at her intently, though he speaks just as quietly as she - each of them mindful of the small witch sleeping peacefully with an ear glued to her father’s heartbeat. At this point Bella can hardly hold back her smile, eyes lingering on Delphini’s little face as she answers him. 

“The assignment went wonderfully,” she starts, regaling him with all the key details as her fingers gently run through their daughter’s curls. Eventually she opens her mind to him, sharing with him the details of the mission that would take too long to properly explain. They’re quiet for a bit after, listening to the sound of Delphi’s even breathing. 

“How’d you end up in this position?” She asks softly, nodding at their daughter. 

“Nightmare.” He explains simply, causing a quiet chuckle from Bella. 

They linger for a while, the three of them. Bella basking in the moment whilst Voldemort is dissecting the details of her mission. He is plotting already, trying to carefully pinpoint his next move to finalize their integration into the Ministry, not to mention this little prophecy Severus recently brought to his attention. It doesn’t take long for his mind to grow too loud. 

“It’s nearly morning,” He starts, body shifting. “I’ve got a meeting with Arcturus in a few hours that I need to get ahead of. Want me to drop her in her rooms or-”

“I’ll take her.” Bellatrix interrupts, rolling onto her back so that he can shift their daughter over more easily. The Dark Lord nods, having expected her answer. 

He leans over, gently passing the little witch into her mother’s arms.

Not nearly gentle enough. 

Delphini’s eyes snap open the moment her head is lifted from her father’s chest. 

She is positively glaring at him. If looks could kill this little three-year-old would be drawing blood with the way her glower cuts through the dark room. There is nothing but utter betrayal in her stare. 

“You promised!” She hisses at him, hands gripping fiercely onto his robes. The dark lord glares right back.

“Don’t start with me little girl - look who I am passing you off to.” It takes Delphini a moment to turn in his arms. She gasps, suddenly quick to twist out of his hold and to wrap around her mother. Bella laughs and the Dark Lord has to hide his smile.

“Mama.” She whispers into Bellatrix’s neck, her mother smiles in response planting gentle kisses into their child’s curls. The Dark Lord sighs, backing cracking as he makes to rise. 

“Papa, you said you would stay.” With a grumble Voldemort turns around at the edge of the bed, an eyebrow raising at his daughter’s word. 

“Your mother is here now, Delphini. There’s no need for you to have us both, your mother is more than capable of protecting you.”  

“But Daddy! You promised!” The little witch whines, eyes peering at him from across the duvet. Bellatrix turns them to their side, breaking their daughter’s eye contact as she pulls her against her chest. She gives him a devious glare before adding: 

“Yeah, daddy,” Bella’s voice is dripping in mischief. “In this family, we take our vows very seriously.” She mocks, her eyes full of mirth despite his returning glare.

It’s a standoff. Delphi turns in her mother’s arms to give him another pleading look.  

Lord Voldemort narrows his eyes at Bellatrix.

“You wretched witch” He mutters, his hands running through his hair as he resigns himself to his fate. Delphini cheers as he makes his way back over to her and her mother along the sheets. “You also promised that you would go to sleep.” He reminds the little witch, who giggles in response. 

He slides next to the pair of them on his side, one of his arms slipping beneath a downy pillow to support his head while the other reaches for Bella’s waist. The witch in question slips closer to him, her forehead coming to rest along his collarbone, despite being unable to see her face he can still feel her smug grin. Delphini is sandwiched between them, her back facing her father as her head is tucked comfortably beneath her mother’s chin, tiny fingers holding onto her mothers night dress gently. 

“‘Night, daddy.” The little witch starts, he can hear the smile in her words. 

“Delphini - go to sleep.” He warns.

“Goodnight, daddy.” Bella whispers against him.

Amongst the early morning light the Dark Lord sighs.

[ikeromantic]

On Being a Father, pt 2

This is a sequel to On Being a Father where Nokto discovers he is going to be a dad. Now that he's accepted becoming a father, he must deal with the legacy of being a twin. Drama/light angst/fluff. Approx. 4300 words (sorry it's a long one!) TW: Pregnancy, complications, family trauma

Nokto couldn’t breathe. The air in the room felt thick, hot and unmanageable. Belle and the doctor were talking but he couldn’t hear them. His ears were full of a rushing sound. 

“Are you ok?” His wife, the former Belle, reached for his hand.

“Yes.” The word came out strained. He focused on the doctor. “Just . . . twins? Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely. Your lady wife has twins.” His expression was solemn, concerned. “You will need to make sure she takes plenty of rest and eats properly until she comes to term.” The doctor paused, studying Nokto’s face. “Your wife must stay relaxed and rested. Any distress could cause a miscarriage or worse. I hope I am clear?”

“Of course.” Nokto gave the doctor a thin smile. “I will keep her wrapped in pillowed satin.”

The doctor left, leaving the couple alone with their thoughts. While Nokto had dealt already with his misgivings about fatherhood, that was when he believed he would have just one child. The word twins set a lead weight in his heart. He’d passed on the curse. 

The former Belle was studying him in that way she had that seemed to see right past your skin and into your soul. “Talk to me,” she said gently. “I can tell you’re not happy.”

“I’m not not happy?” He tugged a lock of her hair gently and then sighed when she didn’t smile back at him. “I told you what it was like for Licht and I growing up. It wasn’t just our mo- our mother that thought being twins was our misfortune.” 

She nodded and scooted over to snuggle into his shoulder. “I know. I just don’t care what other people think. These are our children. They are miracles, and if there are twins that only makes it twice as wonderful.”

Nokto’s eyes widened. Sometimes she still surprised him with her simple but determined statements. He knew she meant every word, and though it changed nothing, he felt a little calmer. Some of the numbness receded.

He settled a hand on the rise of her swollen belly. Though he knew it was impossible, he could almost sense the two tiny heartbeats. Nokto swallowed, his emotions suddenly overwhelming him. His heart galloped in his chest, from fear, from love, from feelings he had no name for yet. Then, something pressed against his hand.

“They kicked!” Belle gave a startled laugh. 

But it wasn’t a kick, Nokto thought. Nothing so abrupt. It was almost like the babies - his children - reached out to him. He shifted to press his cheek there, and closed his eyes. Not because he was about to cry, of course. Not him. He just . . . wanted to rest. 

The Belle’s cool, soft fingers combed his hair back from his face. 

The next few days passed peacefully enough. Nokto was busy with trade delegations to Jade and Benitoite, and Belle spent most of her time in bed or propped up on the couch in their room. Rio attended her while Nokto was busy, and left when the prince returned from his duties. 

For Nokto, it felt as if the drama had passed. He was still worried about what kind of life his children would have - how he would handle the whispers and gossip. It still felt overwhelming. But he promised himself he would do better than his mother or the king. He would be the father his twins deserved.

And then it happened.

A slip on the garden path. Barely enough of a fall to do more than scrape the Belle’s knees, yet enough to send the doctors scrambling. Nokto hurried to her side, his heart spiked with ice at the thought of losing her and the babies. He held her hand for hours as her body was wracked by contractions. 

There was no missing the whispers of the doctor and the midwives. The Belle might lose her babies. One or both. Even her life. They needed to sedate her. They needed to stop the contractions. 

Nokto listened, nodded, his thoughts slow and gelled together. His heartbeat felt too fast and his body too slow. “Do whatever it takes to save her,” he told them. 

Her nails dug into his skin as the doctor gave her an injection. A sedative to relax the contracting muscles. 

“She has a fever. Possibly an infection. Her body is weak from the pregnancy already.” The doctor frowned at Belle as she drifted into a drugged sleep. “Make sure she stays in bed, even when the medicine wears off. I’ll be staying in the palace for the remainder of her pregnancy, so send for me if anything happens.”

“I will.” Nokto stroked her flushed cheek and did not look up. 

Rio came in the second the doctor was gone. His blue gaze was damp with tears. He knelt beside the bed, wordless.

For once, Nokto didn’t mind him being there. He knew Rio loved his wife, perhaps as much as he did. And in this moment, they could share their fear and grief. The prince reached out with his free hand and patted the blonde’s shoulder. 

When Belle woke, the contractions did not return but she was burning up with fever, delirious. She looked up at Nokto. “I knew. Like the book said. The shining stone. And my foot. I saw. Here the sky. And - and-”

“Shhhh, love. Shhhh. It’s ok. I’ve got you.” Nokto motioned for a cold cloth and Rio pressed it into his hand. He gently cooled her face with the cloth, trying to get her to calm down. 

“I - I’ll fetch the doctor,” Rio said, and hurried out. 

The doctor came in alone, with medicine for Belle and an order for Nokto to get her to eat something. “A light bone broth or a watery paste of beans. It will help her body fight off this infection. If the fever doesn’t break soon, I am worried we will lose her.” He left the prince with a vial of powdered herbs to treat the fever. 

“I’m not going to lose you,” Nokto told her. He wasn’t sure if she understood. She was still whispering about a shining stone and how she was sorry, sorry, sorry. The prince hugged her to him. In his arms, she felt like a burning branch. Hot and dry and brittle. 

Fear shot through him, stopping his breath. His heart stuttered in his chest. Was it even possible for her to live through this or was the doctor only giving him false hope? “You can’t leave me,” he whispered. “Not now. Not like this.” 

The Belle clung to him weakly, but he could feel her love in that touch. It strengthened him and chased the despair from his thoughts. He drew a deep breath. 

“We are going to get you - you and the babies - better. I promise.” He gently settled her back into the sheets. 

A short time later, one of the servants left a tray of hot and cold soups, creams, gruels, and jellies for the Belle to try. Nokto picked what he thought she might like best, an oat gruel sweetened with a bit of berry jam. It smelled good and he knew how much she liked sweet things, especially since becoming pregnant.

“Time to eat, lover girl,” he smiled. But when he tried to give her the first spoonful, she turned her head away. “Oh come on, aren’t you a little hungry?” He tried again but she wouldn’t open her mouth. “Look, it’s really good,” he told her, getting a little desperate. 

Nokto spooned the cold, thin gruel into his own mouth, choking a little at the cloying sweetness. It tasted as if someone had upended a bucket of honey over rotted strawberries. He grabbed the water glass and took a long drink to clear the taste. 

“Ok. I can see why you might not want that one.” He sighed. “The doctor says you need to eat though.” He eyed the remaining dishes. “Maybe I can pick the one that’s the least awful, hm?” He picked up a spoon. “See? I’m sacrificing myself to make sure you get the best.” 

In his mind’s eye, she laughed and swatted his arm playfully. For just a heartbeat, he missed her in a way he didn’t have words for. She was still right there, of course. Lying in the bed, hot with fever, but absent from him in her dazed state. Nokto swallowed down the grief and reminded himself he would have that woman back. She would return when the sickness left.

He sampled several of the dishes, but there was something off in each. A flavor obscured by the spices, salt, or sugar that reminded him of rot. He was trying to place a vague memory of that taste when his stomach rebelled. He ran to the restroom and vomited into a chamber pot. Everything he had tasted or drunk that day. 

Nokto felt as if his insides were on fire, and even after he was empty, he continued to heave for several minutes more. When he finally stopped, he sat down. His pulse was racing and his breath was thready. He tried to stand but a wave of dizziness sat him back down, hard.

“Poison.” Rio’s voice came from the doorway. 

The prince turned his head to look at him. “Was thinking the same thing,” he rasped. 

Rio’s expression was cold and distant. “I found oil on the paving stones in the garden. It was mostly gone, but there was enough that I could see it.” At Nokto’s confused expression, he elaborated. “The Belle’s fall wasn’t an accident. Someone ensured she would slip.”

“And combined with the poisoned food . . .” Nokto felt a surge of anger so hot that his vision went black. 

“Someone is trying to kill Belle,” Rio confirmed. “One of your enemies. Perhaps a jilted lover?” His tone was sharp, accusatory.

Nokto managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. “If you have something you want to say to me, then say it.” His lips curved in a thin, hard smile. All that anger he felt had an immediate target, and he was ready.

Rio studied his expression for a moment, and then lowered his head. “No. Just . . . we need to find out who is targeting her. We have to stop them. That’s more important than anything else.”

The rage drained from Nokto’s heart like wine from a punctured barrel. He felt hollowed out and afraid - not for himself, but for his wife and the children he hadn’t yet met. Worse, Rio was probably right. It was likely personal. Nokto had more enemies than he could count. 

“Let’s worry about motive later,” the prince said tiredly. “Who has access to the food? Who could put oil on the garden walkway without being noticed - and who would know when and where the Belle was going to be? That’s how we’ll find our assassin.”

Rio nodded slowly, thinking. “I can have a chat with the gardeners.” The gleam in his eyes made Nokto a little worried but if one of the palace gardeners knew something or was responsible, well . . . he didn’t doubt Rio would make them regret it.

“I believe I’ll have a word with the kitchen staff. I was most disappointed in lunch.” He paused. “But first, can you fetch Licht?”

It didn’t take long for his twin to arrive, looking grumpy and more than a little confused. His expression turned grim as Rio and Nokto explained the situation. The flat stare he directed toward his brother said more than words could. 

“We should tell the other princes,” Licht said. “They can help. And we don’t know yet if this was targeted or if all the royals are in danger.”

“True,” Nokto conceded. “I’ll tell Sariel, just in case. But . . .” He didn’t want to say it aloud. The dark suspicion in his heart. But he didn’t have to. His twin read it in his gaze.

Licht rested a hand on his arm lightly. “None of them would hurt her. Not even if it served their interest. And I am here.”

They stood like that, connected through that gentle touch, for several breaths. Nokto let his brother’s words ease the fear in his chest. “Thanks.” Nokto pulled away. “Keep her safe for me, Licht.”

His twin nodded solemnly and went to sit by her bed. 

Sariel wasn’t hard to find. He was in his office, half buried with reports and paperwork. All the documentation and communication of the kingdom seemed to find its way to his desk eventually. The councilor looked up as Nokto came in and raised a brow.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to be.” Nokto crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the door. “I just thought you’d want to know we have an assassin in the palace.”

“Oh, is that all?” Sariel looked back down at his papers.

“Is that . . .” Nokto’s hands dropped to his sides, balling into fists. “They tried to kill the Belle! Twice!”

“Mmm. Hmm.” 

The prince swallowed. “Are you going to tell me you knew someone was after her?” He took a step forward, and though he was not a man inclined to physical violence, he was feeling inclined right then.

Sariel glanced up. “There are always assassins. If you must know, the palace guard foiled two attempts on Yves last week, one on Jin, and another against Clavis. My only surprise is that they didn’t strike at the Belle sooner.”

“And what are you doing about it?”

“Collecting information to make informed and incisive actions. Now, do you need something from me or no?”

Seething, Nokto forced his hands to relax. Sariel was right, of course, but this was important. He quickly explained the two attempts they knew of and asked who would know the kitchen staff schedule, or which employees were newer. 

Sariel gave him what he needed and waved him away with that devilish grin of his. 

The kitchens were bustling. Servants and chefs moved between ovens, stoves, and prep tables. A veritable army of cooks and their helpers. Nokto danced through the milieu until he reached the head chef. She was a large woman, solid and wide with a round face and a wide, warm smile. 

At the moment, she was trying to convince Yves of something. The young prince was not smiling, and her expression looked a little strained. Nokto caught something about using a month’s supply of cocoa, and the strange, sudden appearance of baked goods. 

Yves spotted him and broke away from the chef. “Ah, look at that! Nokto! What are you doing in here?”

“Not getting lectured about my baking habits?” 

Yves frowned. “Well, it wasn’t a lecture really. Just a request to let the staff know when I use up the last - or most of - something.” He coughed. “Anyhow, I did ask you a question?” His natural arrogance made the comment a command. 

Nokto shrugged as if what he had to say was of little import. “Someone tried to poison my wife today. They got me instead, and I’m a bit unhappy about it.”

Yves looked shocked. “Why would anyone want to hurt the Belle?”

“I’m less worried about the why than the who.” Nokto turned his fierce red gaze on the head chef. “I need the names of every person that cooked for her and the maids tasked with taking it to our room.”

The head chef swallowed, nervous now. “Of course Highness. The two cooks tasked with those meals are still here. I’ll bring them to you.” She twisted her apron in her hands. “The maid though, she’ll be about the palace. I don’t supervise maids.”

“Then I guess we’ll start with those two and I’ll get to the maid later,” Nokto replied.

“I’ll go find the maid while you talk to the cooks. If that’s alright?” Yves’ arrogance deflated a little under the other prince’s scrutiny.

“Yes. That will be a help. Find her and bring her here.” 

Yves gave a grateful nod, and hurried out.

The cooks were near tears when the chef brought them over. It was clear the chef already told them something of what Nokto wanted. The two young men fell to their knees, practically babbling as they explained how careful they were in making food for the Belle. 

Nokto listened with only half an ear. He could tell from the first stumbling apologies that neither of these cooks could be responsible. They were horrified at the idea and terrified they might be blamed, but nothing in their words, expressions, or body language gave voice to any guilt. 

He cut them off after a few minutes. “Enough. Thank you. I understand now. You can go back to your duties.”

The two cooks thanked him and practically ran back to their work stations, glancing back to be sure they were in the clear. 

“Do you think it’s the maid, then, Highness?” The chef asked Nokto without meeting his eyes. 

“I suppose it must be,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. Nokto shook himself from his thoughts and offered her an insouciant grin. It felt odd on his face, but the chef relaxed a fraction. “Thank you for your help. I owe you a favor now.”

The chef looked stricken. “No! Highness, we are just doing our job. I am only glad it wasn’t one of my staff that dared try to harm you and yours.” 

Nokto shrugged, adjusting his coat where it hung from his shoulders. “You shouldn’t dismiss a favor from a prince so lightly.” He turned to leave, ready to search out Yves and the maid. 

The kitchen staff watched him go. He could feel their eyes on his back, wary now that word was getting around about his visit. Nokto ignored them. He didn’t want their sympathy or suspicion.

He found Yves on his way back toward the kitchen, a sobbing maid in tow. “She didn’t do it,” Yves said before Nokto could speak. 

The maid nodded, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She was a pretty thing, even with her tear-stained face. The kind of maid Nokto might have flirted with, before he’d found love. He didn’t remember ever speaking with her before though.

“But she knows who did,” Yves nudged the maid forward. “Tell Prince Nokto what you told me.”

She sniffled. “I . . . I was taking the cart to your room. A-and this older gentleman stopped me. He-he said he wanted to surprise his grandson.”

“I see.” Nokto frowned, anger surging in him. “So you let some stranger take a cart of food to a member of the royal family without asking any questions. Are you really so foolish?”

The maid looked stricken. “I - I’m new and he was - he was clearly a noble. And . . . he looked a lot like you, Prince Nokto. I just assumed . . .”

Yves looked troubled. “Could it be someone related to - Nokto! Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to my twin,” he called back over his shoulder. After so many years, it seemed his mother’s family had returned to the capital. 

The door to his suite was open. No guards stood in the hallway. No servants worked nearby. Nokto felt his chest constrict with sudden worry. He ran the rest of the way down the corridor and slammed to a stop at the threshold. 

There was a stranger in his room. A tall man with silky platinum hair caught up in a tight braid. He had wide shoulders and a fine coat. His back was to the door so Nokto couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to.

Licht stood between the stranger and the Belle, his sword drawn. He caught sight of his twin, but said nothing. He kept his ruby-eyed gaze on the man. 

“Licht, put the blade down. I don’t want to hurt you. You were always the good one.” The man reached out toward Licht.

“Leave now, grandfather. Before I -”

“Grandpa!” Nokto put on a falsely cheery voice. 

The man turned with a grimace. “You.”

“Awww, grandpa, don’t be like that! I heard you came by to surprise me. Nothing would surprise me more than seeing you smile. Or hearing a kind word.”

His grandfather snorted. “I didn’t come to bandy words with you. Had your mother listened to me, you wouldn’t have drawn your first breath.”

“Then what did you come for?” Nokto held his grandfather’s attention as Licht moved closer behind him. 

“To make sure you don’t shame our family again. To stop you passing on our curse.” He gestured to the Belle savagely, his body shaking with anger. “Did you think we wouldn’t know of your spawn? That we wouldn’t hear? Did you think I would let your mother’s mistake perpetuate itself?” Spittle flew as he spoke faster, his tone a low growl.

Nokto’s skin prickled with anger and guilt. Some part of him felt like his grandfather was right. He should have died. He shouldn’t have found love. He couldn’t have a family. All of his mother’s cruel words boiled in his heart. 

“Shut up.” Licht spat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Their grandfather turned to face Licht again. His eyes darted between his other grandson and the Belle. “Why would you defend him? He is useless. A joke at best. Nokto has never been as strong as you, my boy. You could still redeem this situation.” He pointed toward the Belle.

Licht and Nokto both looked at her, their crimson eyes alight with affection. And her eyes fluttered open to meet their gaze. Then her focus slid to their grandfather.

“How sad,” she said softly. “How sad you are. I could hear your bitter words, slipping into my dream.” She pushed herself up a bit on unsteady arms. “It’s no wonder your daughter went mad. With you whispering poison in her ear all her life.” She took a breath. “I wonder . . . where your hate . . . comes from? Did you - have a twin too?”

Nokto was so pleased to see her awake, the fever broken, that it took a moment for her words to sink in.

Their grandfather looked stricken. His mouth twisted with some inner agony as his whole body tensed. Then his shoulders fell. “I did,” he whispered. “And I killed him.” He looked up, his eyes hot with anger and haunted by regrets. “I had to. For the family. And now look what has happened . . . my daughter dead, our family exiled from court, practically penniless . . .”

“Nokto and Licht caused none of that. It was all you and your cruel belief.” Belle laid a hand on her swollen belly, hidden by the sheets of her bed. “My children are not ill omens. They will be precious. As you and your brother were. As Licht and Nokto are.” 

“You - you little fool. Wait until you lose everything!” He took a step toward the bed, but Licht held him at bay with the point of his blade. 

Nokto heard motion in the corridor. There were people coming. Several of them. Armored people. Curious. But he had a feeling he knew why. The prince smirked. “So you admit to killing your own brother, trying to kill me, and now also trying to harm my lady wife and our children?”

His grandfather nodded. “I did. And I will try again. I will end your bloodline and clear the stain on our -”

“There he is. Take him into custody.” Sariel’s whip-thin form stood in the doorway as armed guards filed in past him. Rio stood behind the counselor, looking somewhat satisfied with himself.  

Their grandfather looked confused as the guards tied his hands and led him out. Confused and still seething. “This is a mistake,” he shouted, but no one was listening. 

Rio rushed to the Belle’s side, his wide blue eyes searching her figure to make sure she was alright. 

Licht slid his sword into the scabbard. “I am going back to my room.”

“Thank you.” Nokto held a hand out to his brother.

“Don’t say thank you. Not to me.” Licht’s eyes were hot as coals, burning with emotion despite his wooden expression. He paused and glanced back at the Belle and then he left. 

Sariel sighed. “Well I hope that’s the end of that. Everything is fine in here then? No one hurt?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just looked around and nodded. “Excellent. I will be interviewing you three later for details on these events.” 

“Pfft. I can tell how much you care,” Nokto snapped. 

“Of course.” Sariel smiled thinly and then left.

Rio barely noticed. He was too busy cooing over the Belle and making her foolish promises.

Nokto cleared his throat and the blonde looked up with a guilty expression. 

“Sorry,” the blonde mumbled. “I’ll . . . just go fetch some tea.” 

When they were alone, Nokto finally approached the bed. He knelt beside it and rested his head against her arm. “I am . . . so sorry,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “This is - it’s all my fault. I really am a - a curse.”

“If you say that again, I am going to hit you.” 

“What?” He looked up.

Belle stroked a finger down his cheek gently. “I mean it. I love you. None of this is your fault. It is all hatefulness and superstition from your mother’s family. So don’t you dare try to take the blame.” 

Nokto laughed softly and ignored the dampness in his eyes. “You are incredible. Did you know that?”

“No. Now get over here and kiss me. After all of that, I need a kiss. And some strawberries. And pickled vegetables. And maybe buttered noodles.”

“I’m afraid not.” He leaned up and kissed the tip of her nose. “I can give you some kisses and gruel. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh come on! Nokto! I don’t want gruel!” She poked his shoulder, her lips pressed into a pout. “Please?” 

He smiled. “I’ll sweeten the deal with even more kisses.” Nokto lightly kissed her cheeks, her neck, the line of her collarbone.

She giggled and wriggled under his light touches. “Ok, ok! I give up. Gruel it is. And a bath?”

“A sponge bath.” Nokto waggled his eyebrows suggestively and they both broke into laughter. He was glad they could still laugh, after everything. He still wasn't sure if he had the makings of a good father, but he knew he wanted to try.

Tagging @fun-ghoul-neela @lixin428 @ludivineikewolf @kisara-16 since you asked for a part 2 ^_^

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Holidays are always very inspiring and even more so after seeing the gorgeous photos. Your Strawberry

Precious time

She lay relaxed in his arms and he could feel her heartbeat beating steadily. He smiled because a few minutes ago she hadn't been this calm. They both hadn't. They had made passionate love and it had taken quite a while for their breathing and heartbeat to return to normal.

He loved making love to her and he loved holding her in his arms afterwards. Her scent seduced him and he felt her warm skin against his. His hand stroked her back, knowing she liked it when he caressed her. She enjoyed his touch as he heard her sigh in pleasure.

"We have to get up," she whispered. "Not yet," he countered, pulling her a little closer to him. To stop her from getting up, his lips sought her mouth and he began to kiss her tenderly. She let him have it for a moment and returned the kiss, but then she put her hand on his chest and pushed away from him slightly.

"I mean it. We can't stay in bed all day with our children and grandchildren visiting," she explained softly, looking deep into his eyes. "They can keep themselves quite busy without us." Hearing the defiance in his voice, she reached out and took hold of his chin. "You know how precious time with them is." That was the only argument he would let stand and she knew it. When he nodded slightly, she smiled.

"Time with you is precious too," he couldn't help saying before she released herself from his arms and he let her go. Longingly, he looked after her. She was right in her words and yet he missed her body next to his. He leaned into the pillows, not taking his eyes off her. Naked, she walked to the wardrobe and began to dress.

He followed her every move. When she had put on a pair of panties with a matching bra and straightened up, he said in a husky voice, "Turn around." She paused in her movement and looked at him in amazement. Her gaze softened when she saw his longing look.

"Don't look at me like that," she pleaded in an equally husky voice. "I can't help it," he explained, letting his gaze roam over her body. "You are so sexy and just looking at you excites me," he said softly. She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "Don't make this so hard for me," she begged.

"Keep dressing," he said and she raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I'll be good," he assured her. "I'll just watch. I promise." Smiling, she shook her head, turned back to the wardrobe and pulled on a short skirt. Behind her she heard a low moan as he skirt fitted properly, exposing a great deal of her legs. "How many hours before we can go to bed?" he asked and she laughed.

Then she picked up a blouse and slipped it on. She heard him move and before she could put her hand on the first blouse button he was with her and turned her to face him. "You just wanted to watch," she protested and already his finger was on her mouth. He stepped back a little and then his hands slid to the buttons of her blouse. Slowly he closed each button before leaning in and kissing her passionately one last time.

Then he pushed her off him. "Go, before I rip it all off you again." Laughing, she turned and felt his hand on her bottom briefly. With his intense gaze on the back of her neck, she left the room. Sighing, he went into the bathroom and stood under the cold shower. He hoped it would be evening very soon, because then he would tear the clothes off her body and make love to her again.

Hello sweet 🍓! ❤️

Killing us softly with the sexiness! And the teasing!

This holidays have been quite productive for stories, I see!

Thank you so much, Strawberry! ❤️❤️❤️

[auspicious-manner]

can you write mike faist x reader? Maybe something where reader isn't connected with entertainment industry but still goes with mike to west side story ny premiere? And feels a bit self-consious and unsure but mike comforts her?

love love love this idea

female reader x mike faist

warnings: some body dysmorphia talk

Ethereal

•

when Y/N got a call from her childhood best friend mike asking her if she’d like to attend the west side story premiere with him, she answered yes in a heartbeat.

when her and mike were younger, they danced at the same studio and grew to be fast friends. he was a year older than she was, and because they danced so similarly and had a strong connection, they were paired up to be dance partners. they performed at recitals, competitions, and everything together for years. they had become inseparable. they both had the same dreams of moving out to new york and living their dreams as professionals.

Y/N found it hard to find passion in dance after mike graduated and left for new york. because she was a year behind him, she stayed in ohio. however, when it came time for her to graduate, new york never ended up working out.

due to financial reasons and family issues, it just wasn’t possible for her to move away from her small home in ohio. while she was stuck in ohio, her best friend was living his dreams.

after mike got cast in newsies, his schedule got insanely busy. they tried keeping in contact as much as possible, but sometimes, it just didn’t work. when mike would come home to ohio, they always made sure to meet up. but aside from that, their in-person get togethers were few and far between.

Y/N watched mike’s success from afar, and although she was extremely proud, part of it hurt too. they always discussed moving to new york together, and it hurt to see mike living both of their dreams.

two days before the premiere, an unsuspecting Y/N got a call from mike.

“hey mike! long time no see.” Y/N said with a smile.

“hey Y/N! about that ‘long time no see’ thing, i was wondering if you were available on november 29th.”

she paused to go look at the calendar, and brought the phone back up to her ear. “i’ve got nothing going on. what were you thinking?”

“i was wondering if you’d like to come to the west side story premiere with me in new york.”

her jaw dropped. she lowered the phone, got all of her obnoxious giddiness out before taking in a deep breath and answering him. “are you being serious?”

“production said i needed a date. my first thought was you.” mike said back.

once again, she lowered the phone, freaked out and calmed herself down. “but mike, i don’t have the money for a plane ticket. or a dress. or accessories, for that matter.”

“i’ll pay for it all. please, i haven’t seen you in ages. i think we’ll have a fun time there.”

“are you sure you want to pay for all of it?”

mike laughed on the other end of the phone. “yes, i’m sure. are you in or not?”

there was a moment of silence. “i’m in.”

the next twenty four hours was a whirlwind. the next day, she was hopping on a plane and flying to new york, and when she arrived at the airport, her best friend was waiting with his car.

when mike saw her approaching his car, he got out and met her with a big hug.

“i missed you so much!” Y/N exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“it’s so good to see you again.” mike replied.

after they pulled away, mike loaded her suitcase into the trunk of his car and drove off after they had both gotten in.

“so, are you ready for the premiere?” mike asked excitedly.

“you know, the more i’ve thought about it, the more nervous i keep getting.”

“what are you so nervous for?”

“i don’t really know,” she started. “this is my first professional event, if i don’t dress up properly i’ll look weird, and there’s going to be famous people there- oh my god steven spielberg is going to be there.” Y/N said, the realization hitting her hard for the first time.

mike grinned. “you’ll be just fine. i’ll be with you the entire time.”

“i know. i’m super excited to see you in the movie, though.”

“i’m super excited for you to see it. you’ll love it.” mike said back.

driving into new york city was surreal for Y/N. the city held a beauty that was unlike anything else. it simply felt magical to her.

mike and Y/N stopped at mike’s stylist’s studio to talk about the perfect dress for Y/N.

she explained she didn’t need anything too big and extravagant as that wasn’t who she was, and the stylist just happened to have the perfect dress for her right there in the studio.

it was a velvet sage green dress that went down to her ankles and had slits on either side near her stomach, exposing some of her skin. there was another slit in the leg that went up to her mid thigh, which made the dress flow just the right amount. the dress had long sleeves that hugged her arms tight, and around the neck, the dress had a square cut that showed off her chest.

she didn’t let mike see her in the dress when she tried it on, as she wanted it to be a surprise for him on the day of the premiere. she felt like a princess wearing it. the stylist made note of any alterations needed, and said she would stop by mike’s place the morning of the premiere to drop off the dress.

when asked about hair and makeup while the pair was getting lunch, mike said he “had it covered” for her.

“mike, i feel bad. you’re spending all this money just for me to look good. i feel so needy.”

mike gazed at her intently. “don’t feel bad, please. genuinely, i want to do this.”

“how could you want to spend all of this on me? that’s absurd.” she replied back.

“i feel bad about leaving you behind in ohio. i always have. think of this as a way of me saying ‘i’m sorry for not keeping in contact more.’ i really need to make more of an effort.”

“don’t apologize,” she started. “you’ve been busy doing big things. i’m surprised you still want to be my friend after all the recognition you have now. thank you for all of this, by the way. i appreciate it so, so much.”

he fixated his eyes on her, and gave her a soft glance. “of course. there’s no one i’d rather share my west side story premiere with.”

mike had a spare bedroom in his apartment, and after exploring the city with him the rest of the day and catching up, they headed back to his apartment and went to sleep.

the next morning, they had to prepare for their long day. mike got ready in his bedroom, while Y/N got ready in hers.

the hair and makeup people along with the stylist came by around 11 o’clock, and Y/N slipped on her gorgeous dress once again.

for hair, she kept it simple and had loose curls falling around her face. her makeup was natural, and she styled just a plain eye look with eyeliner, light eyeshadow, with some added blush and highlighter on her cheeks. she wore beautiful silver earrings with a silver heart necklace that laid on her chest, and silver bracelets and rings to match. her heels were relatively short, but Y/N didn’t need anything tall.

by the time both of them had gotten ready, mike walked out of his room and saw Y/N. if he were in a cartoon, he would have had hearts in his eyes while looking at her.

“Y/N, you look amazing. simply ethereal.” he said in awe, taking a few steps closer to her.

she admired his all black suit. “thank you. you look amazing too.” she stated, straightening his tie.

the pair walked out together and got into a limo that was to take them to the premiere.

mike noticed Y/N seemed extra quiet. “you okay?” he asked her.

she looked at him. “yeah, i’m just nervous, that’s all.”

he took her hand in his. “don’t worry. i’ll be with you the whole time.”

they had arrived, and they pulled up to the premiere, immediately being approached by photographers. she tried to hold her composure on the outside, but on the inside, she was panicking.

“follow my lead.” mike whispered. she nodded and took mike’s hand as he led her through the crowds to the red carpet.

“holy shit, i see steven spielberg!” Y/N whispered to him excitedly.

mike giggled. “we can meet him after we get through the red carpet.”

“i get to meet him?”

“of course you do.”

Y/N stood shocked and let mike go off on her own to get individual photos taken. she noted how he looked in his element and composed. it was quite literally the opposite of how she was feeling.

after mike had made his way down the carpet a bit, she calmed herself down and began to walk as well.

she posed for the cameras as elegantly as she could. all of a sudden, she remembered these photos would be plastered all over the internet, and when she remembered, she sucked in to create the image of a flatter stomach. all of the other girls here were so in shape and fit, and she felt completely out of place.

“Y/N, can you get together with mike for a photo?” a photographer yelled. mike made his way over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, smiling. when mike touched the exposed skin around her stomach, she flinched and sucked in. unbeknownst to her, mike noticed this, and wondered if she was okay.

after surviving the red carpet, Y/N pulled mike aside. “do i look…out of place here?”

mike frowned. “no, of course not. what makes you think you are?”

“i don’t know. everyone here is just so glamorous and fit, and i feel like that’s not me.”

“Y/N, trust me. you are-”

“mike!” a voice called out. they both whipped around and saw none other than steven spielberg approaching them. Y/N’s jaw fell to the floor, and she stood up a bit straighter.

“steven! it’s great to see you!” mike exclaimed, giving steven a big hug.

during the hug, steven’s eyes fell on Y/N.

“and who is this with you?” he asked kindly, pulling away from mike.

“that’s Y/N L/N, my best friend. we danced together when we were little.” mike answered.

Y/N stayed speechless. mike looked at her, smiled, and looked back at steven. “she’s a big fan.”

“well, any friend of mike’s is a friend of mine,” steven started, walking up to her and taking her hand. “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

she finally built the courage to speak. “it’s great to meet you too, sir.”

he laughed and released her hand. “that’s steven to you. sir just makes me feel so old.”

“right, sorry, sir- uh, steven.”

he gave a hearty laugh once again and walked away to talk to some of the other guests.

“oh my god i just met the steven spielberg and i can’t believe i was such an idiot in front of him. god, how did you not do that the first time you met him?” Y/N asked, slightly panicking.

“don’t be so hard on yourself. you’ve been hard on yourself all night.” there was a short pause. “by the way, are you okay? i felt you flinch earlier when i touched your stomach.”

she immediately wrapped her arms around her waist. “i am 100% okay.”

mike tilted his head, and gave her a knowing look. “we’ve known each other for twenty years now, i can tell when you’re lying, Y/N.”

Y/N sighed and looked around before leaning in a bit closer to mike and lowering her voice. “seeing all these beautiful people here is making me realize truly how much of the outcast i really am. they’re all so skinny and talented, and i’m not.”

mike took a small step back, admired her for a moment, and stepped closer to her again. “Y/N, you are the most beautiful girl here tonight. you danced alongside me for almost ten years, so i know just how talented you are. if no one else knows, that’s their problem.”

he placed his hands on her shoulders. “you fit right in with these people, got it? you are just as amazing as everyone else here, and even more perfect. so please, please stop being so hard on yourself. seeing you sad breaks my heart.”

Y/N softened her body. she looked down at her stomach. maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. maybe she just fell into a spiral of overthinking once again.

“thank you mike. for everything. and i don’t just mean for the past few days, i mean the past twenty years. you’re the best person i could possibly have by my side.”

mike smiled wide. he squeezed her hand, and gently rubbed the top of it with his thumb.

“now go socialize with all of your cast mates, i’m tired of holding you back.” she said, kissing mike on the cheek. he immediately turned red and nodded before finding his on screen partners.

although Y/N never kept him away from his friends, he always found his way back to her. she tried telling mike that she really was okay, because she was. but all mike kept saying was that he didn’t want to be with anyone else. he wanted to show her off all night and show the world how pretty his date was.

while watching the private screening of the movie, mike held Y/N’s hand the entire time. when he would come on screen, she would flick her head to the side and see mike next to her, who seemed to be in astonishment with what he was watching.

Y/N was just as astonished by his performance. he was the scene stealer in every scene he was in. mike’s success made her as proud as can be, because in her mind, there was no one more deserving than him. after the screening, she let him know that too.

while sitting in the limo for the ride back to mike’s apartment, she told him.“i don’t know what else to say, because your performance left me speechless. but i will say you were a total scene stealer, and i felt more emotion in my heart when i saw you die than anything i’ve ever felt before. you were incredible, mike.” she said sincerely.

mike’s heart melted hearing those words. “it meant the world having you here tonight.”

they side hugged on the limo seat, her arms wrapped around his waist from the side while his arms wrapped around her back.

“just please don’t ever die. seeing that scene with you getting stabbed caused me to almost start uncontrollably crying.” Y/N said within the hug.

mike’s chest rose when he giggled. “i’ll try not to, sweetheart.”

[bookwormscififan]

Like Diamonds, You Cut the Mirror of Memory

First part | Previous part

A/N: A nice little flashback moment, because I wanted to see if Mad had been turned or was born a vampire.

Spoilers: the turning lore of this AU is based on how vampires are turned in the BBC series Being Human

Warnings: there's a death mention.

“Have you always been a vampire?” Mare asked a few days later, sitting on the bed with Mad lying across his lap, brushing his fingers through his hair and enjoying the silence of the night before dawn broke. Mad hummed, adjusting his position so he could look up at Mare while still lying with his head in his lap.

“I don’t remember,” he admitted, fingers twisting in his shirt as he thought about it. “I think I was turned, but it’s been so long since then that I really can’t remember much. It was just darkness, and then there was me. That’s all I know.”

“You knew how to make a stew for humans to eat,” Mare stated, returning to brushing Mad’s hair with his fingers, feeling the vampire settle further into his lap. “Either you lived with a human before, or you were human once.” He paused when Mad stiffened, looking down to see him staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes wide as though he were watching a film play out.

----

Mad had been human before. He’d been a scientist in a time science was still a new concept, experimenting with formulae and testing theories.

Being an outcast scientist, he could only afford enough food to make a simple stew that would last a few meals. His small stature made it difficult to properly defend the home he lived in from the elements, so he was either boiling or freezing, socks covered in patches from the holes.

He’d met a vampire one winter, shivering in the snow pile behind his house, and he’d welcomed it in like it was a normal person, wrapping his only blanket around it’s shoulders and sitting it close to the fire. As the vampire recovered, Mad took notes, gaining as much information as he could before falling asleep in the chair by the fire.

He hadn’t seen the vampire eyeing him as he dozed off, or the single ember flying out of the fireplace and landing on the tattered rug, smouldering before setting the fibres alight. He hadn’t felt the flames licking at his feet, or the hands that grasped him tightly as the house was consumed.

The vampire ran him out of the house, setting him down on the outskirts of town and checking him over for wounds, noting the slowing of his heartbeat and the rattle in his chest. Mad was dying, whether from the fire or malnourishment, the vampire couldn’t tell.

As Mad breathed his last, the vampire leaned over him, holding a slashed finger to his mouth and letting blood fall down his throat, ensuring Mad had swallowed enough before disappearing completely.

When Mad woke up he was no longer cold. His head hurt, but his breaths no longer rattled, and his feet weren’t painfully sore from walking. There was a strange pressure building in his mouth, just beside his incisors, and his throat was dry.

He was thirsty. Pressing his tongue to the pressure in his gums, Mad started as a pair of fangs slowly lowered down, realising he’d become a vampire. Feeling something in his mouth, Mad spat into his gloved hand and saw his original incisors, the gaps now replaced by his fresh fangs.

Hunger overriding his confusion, Mad stood and moved around the town, searching for something to drink, and once he’d had his first taste of human blood, the bloodlust became his entire being.

----

“I was dying,” Mad whispered, breaking out of his trance and looking at Mare with fearful eyes. “I was dying, and a vampire turned me. My house burned down, all my things perished, and I got turned. A vampire turned me because I saved their life.” Tears sprang to his eyes, and Mare felt his heart break slightly at seeing the broken look on Mad’s face.

“I didn’t even get their name.”

Mare gently brushed away Mad’s tears with his thumb, giving him a comforting smile when Mad took his hand, twining their fingers together and holding his hand to his heart. His other hand reached up to cradle Mare’s cheek, tearful eyes full of emotion as Mare looked at him.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Mad said softly, hand falling from Mare’s face to hold his shoulder. “I’m the only one left. The humans killed all the vampires over a century ago. I’m alone.” His eyes widened when Mare leaned down to kiss him, the angle making his chest warm. “You’re not alone anymore,” Mare whispered, brushing Mad’s hair back as he leaned back, pressing his face into Mad’s touch when he reached back up to cradle his cheek. He barely heard Mad’s quiet sound of gratitude, too wrapped up in just having Mad with him, and he turned his face to the window as the first rays of light began to creep in, feeling Mad fall asleep on his lap.

------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[yourthoughtsjim]

It's Been Years

Dark x reader, afab

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, tentacles mention, fingering, hypno if you squint

You find yourself sitting in the void; the master of it standing behind you. It has been a while since you’ve been here. The last time was ages ago. You thought you had severed yourself completely from it… and most importantly him, but something pulled you back.

The figure circled to the front of you. He bends down a bit, getting some good eye contact and he smiles. No, not smiles, more like grins.

“You know, it would’ve been so much easier if you hadn’t run away from me, but you just couldn’t stay put could you?” Dark states.

“I… never belonged to you in the first place. I’m my own person.” You respond.

He’s now closer to you than he previously was. “Is that so? Then explain to me why you used to scream my title? Why the second I offered you a collar, you jumped with glee?” 

“You manipulated me. You lied about everything.”

A small chuckle comes out of him. “Is that what he told you?” His voice cracked.

“Y-Yes.” 

“How silly of you. To believe him over me, the one who made you what you are now. I gave you everything!” He pauses regaining his composure “I could give you more, just let me back in, darling.” 

You couldn’t tell if it was your heartbeat or the whooshing of the void that you could feel in your ears. 

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself falling. “The mind is a fragile thing. Takes only the slightest tap to tip it in the wrong direction.” Dark states as he taps a finger to your temple.

That’s when you fall completely. You were right back where you were years ago, being his good obedient little pet.

“There we go, I knew you’d let me in again. Now, remind me of who you are?” 

“I’m Daddy’s good pet.”

A growl came out of the entity. “That’s right, good little monster.”

He then waves a hand over you and your left bare, the cold of the void stinging your skin slightly. That was okay, though, Dark was going to warm you up.

He wasted no time and inserted two cold fingers in your aching pussy. Your body shivers at his touch. After all, you hadn’t felt it for a while now.

“So wet, just how I remember it.”

“Mm… Daddy…” You moan out.

He thrusts in and out at a rough pace as he crooks his fingers at the perfect angle to hit that special spot. 

“God, Daddy’s missed this. He missed all those pretty noises you make for him. You were always so vocal for him.” His voice swims in your head.

The only noises you could make were little whimpers and whines every time he brushed against your walls. 

His other hand found its way towards your throat, resting there before putting slight pressure on it.

“My good voidling. You’re taking Daddy’s fingers so well, just like before.”

“Feels good Daddy.” You groan.

A smirk appears on his face. “Of course it does. I’m the only one who knows how to touch you properly.”

Opposite of how you were feeling earlier, you now felt like you were floating. Floating higher and higher with every motion he did.

You arch your back off the chair, as an indication that you were almost there.

“Cum.” Is the only command you’re given.

Just like he had trained you to do, you let yourself come undone on his fingers with a shout of his title.

“Good little one.” He comments.

He wasn’t done with you just yet though. He hadn’t felt you around his cock in a hot minute.

Picking you up and placing you in his lap, he gets his cock out and starts fucking into you at a careful but fast pace.

“There we go, you feel so fucking good.”

“You, fuck, you do too Daddy.” 

It was like you never left with the way you stretched out.

The way he was gripping your hips made you believe there were going to be bruises along with claw marks.

“I’m going to fill this small hole with every single ounce of my cum and you’ll take it all, even if I have to plug you up with a tentacle or two. I remember how much you loved those.”

A high pitched whine left your lips as you went toppling over the edge again.

“Shit…” You hear Dark growl out.

You were overstimulated as all get out and it didn’t help when Dark took his thumb and started fast circles on your clit. 

“You’re going to cum over and over again until I say you’re done. You owe me.” He states as he keeps bouncing you up and down.

Two, three, four… orgasms later and you were almost on the verge of passing out, but you didn’t. He used his powers to keep you awake. He wanted you to feel everything he was giving you.

“Please… it hurts.” You plead.

“I don’t care if it hurts.” He returns.

He stayed true to his word and pumped every last load he had into you. That’s when he finally pulls you off of him. He then watches as his cum drips out of your well fucked hole. 

“It’s so much better being back with Daddy isn’t it, little monster?” 

A half hum is the only response you could muster in your state.

[kariachi]

I've made posts recently so, have some fic. The rest of the Amalgams are less than happy with Kevin's circumstances, and take the first step towards doing something about it.

~~

Anyone could tell Kevin got wary when he walked in the door to see them sat anxiously around a table. He kept his hand on the frame just a bit too long, joined them with measured steps. Even though they threw up smiles for him, kept the conversation light as everyone looked over the menu, ordered their meals, the air of caution didn’t fade. Despite their efforts to be subtle, something none of them were particularly good at- it had always been Pierce’s wheelhouse- as soon as their drinks had arrived and the waiter had left earshot he rounded on them, lips a firm line.

“Okay, what’s going on?” The rest of the former team shared a look, and dropped the charade.

“Are you okay,” Helen asked, reaching out to not quite lay her hand over his. Kevin blinked, as he looked between them, at their mirrored frowns and distressed gazes.

“Yeah? Of course I am.” Manny’s mouth twitched down at the corners.

“Alan told us about the shit Gwen pulled the other day.”

Immediately, every muscle in Kevin’s body locked up, and he had to visibly force them to relax. He opened his mouth, closed it again with a frown, before responding.

“It’s fine.” Face scrunching, Alan made a noise somewhere between anger and distress.

“She put you on the ground,” he said, keeping his voice low as to not attract attention, “that’s not ‘fine’, especially not for fucking disagreeing with her.” The event wouldn��t leave Alan’s head. One second Kevin had been backing him up on the issues with the Plumbers, the next he’d been picking himself up off the dirt and mana was fading from Gwen’s hand. She’d stayed mostly polite when she continued the argument with him, and Cooper had quickly put himself partially between them, but Alan still had been more than happy to let the conversation fade in her favor, especially with more important things now on his mind.

Seeing Kevin shake off his retaliatory temper, get back in position at her side, and more or less keep his mouth shut the rest of that little get-together… That was going to stay with him a good long while.

“Like you haven’t wanted to do that,” Kevin said, trying to put on a smirk, failing miserably as his shoulders slowly tensed further.

“Yeah,” Manny admitted, leaning conspiratorially over the table, “but that was a long time ago for us, Alan had good reason, and none of us are dating you. Gwen’s just a fucking bitch.” In a heartbeat Kevin’s lips pulled back into a snarl, eyes narrowing.

“Watch it-”

“Manny.” Throwing a quick warning look his way, Helen properly laid her hand over Kevin’s. “We’re just worried about you, Kev. Gwen’s powerful, she could do some real damage, and we don’t want that for you. You’re practically family.” Taking in a deep breath, Kevin shoved off the worst of his temper in the face of Helen’s plaintive expression.

“There’s nothing she can do to me,” Kevin said slowly, like it was a struggle to get the words out and he was trying to play it off, “that I can’t take.”

“Can I point out,” Alan cut in, “that you would never accept that from one of us? You’d be locking us up for our own protection.”

“He’d be killing people,” Manny added with a scowl, “but nooo, I can’t without his permission first.”

“Manny.” Shooting him another look, Helen shook her head and gave Kevin’s hand a gentle squeeze, or at least gentle for them. “Listen, we just wanted you to know, if you need anything, say the word. Someone to talk to, a place to get a break, help leaving if you decide to, anything. No matter what the Tennysons or anybody else says or does, we’ve got your back.”

Kevin shut his eyes. Took a deep breath with more shudder in it than he probably wanted. Released it, and nodded.

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” There was a long and uncertain pause. “Thanks guys.” The other’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t smiles, but added a hint of relief to their worry. Clapping his hand on his shoulder, Manny tried for a more upbeat expression, for Kevin’s sake.

“Any time and every time.”

[kamari333]

For the commentary thing, if it still applies:

Sans had been waiting for the moment Lust would show his hand as a Judge. Papyrus had once told him it was obvious if one knew what to look for, but Sans had never quite figured out what he meant. Instead, he was left to wait for a reaction to something that could not have otherwise been known.It was when Lust's gaze fell upon Asgore that Sans finally saw it: the monster that had up until that point been playful, welcoming smiles and understanding warmth vanished, leaving in his place what might as well have been a statue made of cold, unforgiving marble.Lust stood there in the near-center of the room, one foot still off the ground in the process of an aborted saunter, with empty sockets trained on the king as though the void itself were attempting to swallow him.Sans wondered idly if he had ever looked quite so creepy, or if that was an unusually powerful response.Asgore sat in his chair, feeling the full weight of the sins crawling on his back, for however long Lust stared, unblinking. Undyne stood by his side, but even she was beginning to squirm, increasingly more irritated as the scene wore on.Finally, the soft click of Lust's boot on the tile floor broke the deafening silence. He smiled, the gesture never reaching the cold blank pips that were now his eyes. He took another step, then another, and another, until he stood before Asgore properly. Lust still had his vest zipped up (which must have happened while he was in the other room with Red and Edge), his hands in his pockets. The casual posture only lasted one more heartbeat, before he assumed the same pose as his brother before him, bowed from the waist down at ninety degrees, one arm crossed to press the closed fist to his shoulder, the other arm straight at his side.How convenient that the position hid his face from Asgore. How inconvenient it still gave Sans a partial view of his manic grin, stretched wide enough to show his canines in full detail, jaw clenched hard enough to crush rocks into powder (or bone into dust): it was a familiar face, though Sans wished that was a lie; the face of a man contemplating murder, knowing he could get away with it, was difficult to forget.

Aaaaaaah from Aint This More Than Lust! (I do love Nilchance's aint this the life series!! i ended up doing my damnedest to echo that feral, raw and bleeding energy nil brings to their works. its something i admire a lot and wanted to adopt for myself through osmosis.

anyway, here i wanted to really dig into both the change in Lust and especially Sans's (indirect) reaction to it. referencing Papyrus was the first big indication of there being an emotional reaction in Sans. every time sans thinks about papyrus in attl it seems to be with this strong vulnerable feeling, like pap is a precious sticker decorating the bandaid stuck on a very tender cut-

hahaha i fell right into it kekekeke

at the time of writing (and again rereading it) i had this rather dramatic image in my head of what i pictured this scene looking like. the composition in my head is so exquisite. one day i may try drawing it <3 lust there in the middle under a spotlight, one moment striding like he is the sexiest thing alive and ready to share it with you, the next a statue of barely contained murderous rage. theres that long pause as everyone gets a good look at him making asgore hella uncomfortable. then he bows just so he can STOP LOOKING AT ASGORE-

its a scene that was heavily inspired by several scenes involving Nil's red. i really wanted to hammer in the parallels between Red and Lust here. in my head theyre stupidly, beautifully similar, and i wanted Sans to see that so clearly he can see an afterimage of the man he loves in this new guy

i think that was kinda the leitmotif of this whole fic- making sans see red in lust (and slowly catching feels/horny by proxy)

[softly-mossy]

oh shitttt new chapter

[ao3 link]

Barker wakes with a shout that rings in his own ears.

Something is here and they’re yelling and holy shit does his head hurt now that he’s bolted upright in such a hurry and--

The guttural sound repeats itself, this time from up on the bed next to him. He flinches harshly, but eases when nothing happens. Whiskey seems to feel like giving him a blessed reprieve between caterwauls, insistently pressing up against his side and curling her tail over his shoulder. When he ignores her in favor of holding his still-pounding head, she resorts to more drastic measures.

Barker feels her claws sink into his thigh before he can process what’s happening to him. His hands flash to pick her up bodily before she can continue, only to get snagged on the threads of his jeans and pull.

“Goddamn you!” he grouses half-heartedly, pausing to carefully untangle Whiskey’s tiny talons from his pants. “Why? Why?”

Mwawrh! Whiskey tells him. He has to admit, she has a compelling point, especially with that tone. He may be imagining it, but he swears he can hear the sound translated in his mind to “dumbass!” Her eyes are wide and focused right on his own, staring owlishly at him as if trying to communicate telepathically.

“What?” he asks, only to chide himself for. It’s not as if she can really answer him, after all. “What the hell do you want?” His head is properly throbbing in time to his heartbeat now. It feels as if his brain is rebelling against being held inside his skull. As a kid, he’d play tetherball with other children his age. He imagines that tetherballs probably feel like his head does right now, being punted back and forth.

Whiskey gets back up in his face, standing square on his stomach to do so. This also upsets his body as nausea settles in his gut, right under her orange paws. She’s right in his face now. Is she interrogating him? What information would she want out of him right now? Is he really contemplating what reasons his cat would interrogate him for? 

Oblivious to Barker’s internal struggles, Whiskey leans in to sniff at Barker’s crooked nose. He doesn’t recall how many times it’s been busted and improperly set back into place. Maybe Whiskey is judging him for it. His eyes cross as he tries to focus on her, be it from the angle or the hangover he doesn’t quite know. His face scrunches at the feeling of her rather-long whiskers tickling his cheekbones, but steels his nerves and waits as she gives him a good sniff or two.

Mah! Whiskey says straight into his face. Good Lord, her breath stinks. Is it because of the food he’s been feeding her? He shouldn’t be one to judge--he probably smells less than ideal right now himself. 

“Yeah?” he deadpans. “You think so?”

Whiskey trills as she retreats back onto the floor, presumably waiting for him to fully wake up. He doesn’t want to get up yet. He wants to slug around in his bed and will the nausea and headache away with sheer thought alone. 

“Five more minutes.” He doesn’t know if he’s speaking to himself or not. “I’ll get up. Just give me a few.” Gently, he eases himself back down onto the pillow behind his head. He’d like to think of himself as somewhat talented at dealing with the after-effects of a night spent drinking, but the little “absence” in his drinking schedule must have screwed all that up.

He needs to wake up and get up. He knows this. He just doesn't want to.

Against his best interests, his eyelids droop and eventually close. His head slouches forward as the wakefulness threatens to leave his body and leave him asleep once more. It reminds him too much of dozing off while in the IMC after relentless work orders. A quick nap was a rare and splendid blessing.

He doesn't think it's been more than a few seconds before he feels a kitten unceremoniously plopped into his lap. He can tell without opening his eyes because the little one is mewling damn near constantly, likely protesting at being wrangled. Just as quickly, he hears Whiskey thump to the floor to go fetch more.

Perhaps, if he gets up quick enough, he can prevent her from doing so.

To his body's protest, he manages to sit up and hang his legs over the side of the bed. Carefully, to make sure the aforementioned kitten isn't accidentally discarded, he scoops it up in one hand and stands. He stumbles, of course, having to whip his free hand out to grab the nightstand by his bed to stay properly upright. Unsteadily, he makes his way out into the apartment’s main room, blearily rubbing his eyes with his palms. The kitten in his hand--Bud, it’s name is Bud (he should know this! He named them all himself!)-- mewls in as much anger as his tiny body can muster, wriggling in place.

Right. He should probably put the little guy down before he accidentally squishes him like an empty water bottle.

Just as ungracefully, he stoops over to set Bud back down on the floor. As he slowly stands back up, Whiskey comes trotting out of his bedroom with another kitten she had threatened to dump on him.

He takes one step into the kitchen. Bud immediately cries, being left behind. The other kittens, tucked into their “home” of a box, all start to mewl in response. Whiskey damn near rips his feet out from under him in a flurry of paws and legs to skitter to a stop at the food bowl.

“Gee. You’re that hungry?”

Mwah! Yes, idiot!

“I don’t know why you think you’re starving. It’s only been--” he looks at the clock and nearly drops the filled food scoop onto the floor.

20 hours. He’d been passed out drunk for 20 hours. Whiskey hasn't eaten in that span of time.

"Good grief!" he damn near shrieks. He feels like he should report himself to some animal care authorities. 20 hours. He should be punished, scolded, and--

Meah! Whiskey interrupts his thoughts indignantly.

In a flurry of movement, Barker frantically cracks open a can of wet food and sets it down on the floor. Almost instantly, Whiskey is upon it, absolutely devouring every scrap of it.

Barker watches with a knot in his stomach. Not being able to take proper care of himself is one thing. Not being able to take care of an animal that depends on him for things is another situation altogether. Whiskey had probably tried to get his attention multiple times and he was too hungover to realize it. Against his will, tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and he frustratedly wipes them away with the palms of his hands.

When his vision is clearer, he sees James peeking its head around the corner into the kitchen. Their gazes meet and James tilts its head worriedly. Are things okay?

“I’m a true piece of shit, James,” Barker utters as he tilts his head back and clunks into the cupboards.

James blinks owlishly. How so?

“I left her hungry while wallowing in self-pity,” he spits almost vehemently. “Completely left her hanging.”

James shrugs, gesturing to Whiskey, who has since polished off the food and meanders out of the room leisurely. She’s alright, though.

Barker shakes his head in exasperation. “That’s not what I mean,” he mutters. When James doesn’t move, he tries to elaborate. “She depends on me. Her and all her babies rely on me to do things that need to be done for them to be happy and healthy. I completely abused that responsibility.”

For a moment, the MRVN pauses, seemingly deep in thought. Barker rips his glare away from James (after all, it wasn’t its fault in the first place) and bores into the wall. Only when James waves a hand at him does he finally look back, though thoroughly scowling.

Again, James points at Whiskey (or, at least, where she had been), and draws a smile in the air. She’s okay, though! She’s forgiven you! She’s happy!

Barker struggles to keep his emotions in check before sighing and deflating like a balloon. While his eyes are closed, he feels James tepidly lay a hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture it has picked up from somewhere. He heaves a breath, straightens up, and looks James dead in the optic.

“You have full permission to wake me up as rudely as possible if I miss food time for her. Got it?”

James nods.