#that sweet long face and his adorable round snout. come on..

[lostin2012]

“#I am a little overcome with love for him and I want everyone else to be too. I hope it’s infectious” It seems like everybody who researches him becomes infatuated with him in some way

How could you not be... very charming animal

[blackberry-gingham]

could you maybe write about how all the boys would each take care of the reader? maybe the reader has had a really long day and they just come home pretty much crying and with a headache,,, and then just the boys comforting the reader🥺🥺

thank you, i love your writing so much !!

skjrlkfjrilrfj this ask is like perfect in line tbh. Today has been rough for sure, so thank you anon, wherever you are.

I hope you enjoy these imagines as much as I did filling them :)

George

As soon as you walk in, the stress is written all over your face

George walks out of the kitchen with a smile as he comes to greet you, but his expression falls as soon as he sees you

“Ey now, what’s wrong love?”, he puts aside the towel he was using and comes straight over to give you a hug

He smells like herbs and spices, and you can hear the sounds of the kitchen just a room or so away

Unfortunately, you don’t have much to say

Today was just... tough

You lean in, letting him hold you for a little while

George rubs your back with comforting circles before inviting you to the dinner table

“Come on now, I’ve made your favorite, and whatever it is, you can tell me all about it”

Turns out he’s right, tonight's meal is your favorite

Perfectly prepared as always by your wonderful boyfriend

George gives you some space to eat a bit and collect yourself before telling him about your miserable time today

And when you're ready, he listens in attentive silence until you’re through

“That is rather awful. I’m sorry you had to deal with that love... Can I do anything?”

You shake your head no, and the repressed feeling of hopelessness you’ve been carrying all day washes over you, slowly dragging tears from your eyes

George puts down his utensils and pulls around his chair right beside you

You lean into him one more time and have a little cry while he holds you tight

When you’ve gotten it all out, he kisses your forehead and asks if you want to finish your meal

You say no... Thanks.

George kisses you again, “Why don’t you go get comfortable love, I’ll clear up here and meet you"

“Thanks...”, you sniff and wobble to your feet, before shuffling off to the bedroom

You clean yourself up a bit and change into your cozy PJs before slipping into bed

Just as you’re fishing for your sherpa blanket, George comes in following a gentle knock

He’s all dressed down to his undershirt and dress pants, which he quickly exchanges for a pair of PJ pants himself

At long last, he climbs into bed and gets under the sheets with you

Instinctively, you cuddle up to him and George wraps you in the blanket before holding you close

“Can I get you anything?”

You shake your head, and scoot a little closer, just enjoying his soothing company

“Right then...”, George kisses your hair, then your forehead, and gives you a little squeeze, “I love you”

A little smile transforms your frown at that, "...Love you too Georgie"

John

John is working on some music sheets in his tiny little office when a quiet rap comes at the door

“Come in dear”, he calls

The door creaks open, but John doesn’t turn around until he hears your voice, “John... Are you busy?”

He can hear you holding back tears even from here

John drops everything and turns around to find his suspicions to be correct

A few wet streaks glisten down your cheeks leading up to puffy, red eyes as you stand wrapped in your blanket

“No, of course not! What’s wrong?”, John looks so worried for you

He gets up and rubs a little warmth into your arms

You don’t say anything, instead, leaning against him for support as you cry some more

When it's clear you don't have the strength for it, John picks you up easily in his strong arms and carries you to somewhere more comfortable so you can catch your breath

A while ago, you made a little nest of blankets and pillows on the floor of your living room

It’s perfect for tea, reading, naps, and cuddling

So naturally, John takes you to your favorite spot and kneels down to deposited you on the padded blanket floor

He rests you against the big pillows and snuggles up beside you

John holds you tightly, providing a comforting pressure and few light kisses here and there until you’re calm enough to speak

With one more long kiss to your forehead, John asks, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and tell him all about what happened today

John listens attentively, and when you’ve said your peace, he wants to know what he can do to help

That brings a little smile to your face

“You’re already doing enough”, you say

But John doesn’t want to settle for “enough”, he wants to do more

So, he reaches into the corner where one of his guitars sits tucked away

He knows how much you love his music

“How about a song?”

John takes requests as you rest against his shoulder, singing soft, acoustic versions of his usually upbeat music

Turns out, his little trick works, and before long, you’re singing along with him

But before your little session is through, John makes sure to dedicate a special, heartfelt rendition of Any Time At All, just for you ❤️

Paul

Today has been awful

You storm thorough the front door and head straight for your room

Meanwhile, Paul is left dazed on the couch, lowering his newspaper slowly

He didn’t even get a chance to say hello, you blew by so fast

Obviously something is wrong...

See, things of this sort have happened before, so by now Paul is prepared

He puts on the kettle and gathers up one of his clean sweatshirts from the drying rack, and comes back to make two cups of cocoa

This gives him just enough time to let you collect your thoughts and do what you must to calm down on your own terms first

When everything's ready, Paul nudges the door open and finds you completely covered by the bedsheets, muffling the sounds of your soft cries

Paul’s heart breaks for you, and he makes sure to announce his presence gently so as not to give you a scare

“Go away...”, you moan

“Aw, come now... Will you at least look at what I brought you?”

You peak out from under the pile of sheets to see two steaming cups and your favorite sweater of Paul’s to steal

“I thought you might want these”, Paul eases himself into bed with you, making sure to not spill any cocoa

First, he puts aside the mugs and unfolds the warm sweater

“Arms up”

You comply and Paul slips it over your head, enveloping you in it’s warmth and the comforting scent of him

While he retrieves the drinks, you wrap up in the blankets once more

Paul hands you your mug, urging you to be careful

Once you’re settled, he asks if you want to talk or if you’d still like to be left alone

You’ve decided you’ve changed your mind

Perhaps a talk would be good...

So you tell him all about who’s been causing trouble, and what’s been giving you so much stress, and this and that inconvenience, until everything is out

Paul only adds some light commentary or asks a few questions, but otherwise he lets you have the floor

You appreciate his responses, however

That classic Paul McCartney charm never fails to put a smile on your face, even when things seem bleak or tough

Paul loves you so much... He’s always there for you

By the time your story is finished, the two of you are gossiping and roasting some of the hard cases that have been stirring you up

At last, after a particularly outrageous joke, a genuine laugh escapes from you and a weight feels lifted off of Paul’s chest

Finally feeling safe and at ease, you feel like you're seeing Paul with fresh eyes for the first time all night

Rather abruptly, you lean in and press a chocolatey kiss to his lips

Not that Paul's complaining

And for the rest of the night, you sit in bed together, cuddling in peace as you finish your drinks

Ringo

After a quick stop out, Ringo has decided to come visit you with a surprise

The bus drops him off at the end of your block and he walks to your door with a spring in his step

Ringo gives a quick set of knocks on the large door and hides his surprise behind his back

He knows you're home

...so why is it taking you so long to answer?

Ringo's face falls a bit, and he begins to worry something's wrong

However, before things get too heavy in his mind, your door slowly creaks open

"Hello...?"

You can barely make out Ringo's face through the tiny crack, but even through that, you can see the grin he's wearing

"Hello! I thought I'd come visit ya, I brought ya something!"

"Oh... thanks..."

You hesitate, not sure if you want him to come in or leave you be

"... Everything alright?", Ringo's voice is soft, and laced with concern as he tries to get a better angle to see you

You shake your head no, but open the door to let him inside

Ringo walks in cautiously, and closes the door behind him

He can see now that your eyes look puffy with little bags starting to form underneath

You wipe at your eyes and hug your shoulders, "Sorry, I just um..."

But before you can finish your sentence, you have to stop just to hold back tears

"No, no don't cry, it's alright", Ringo holds out his arms to try and console you

In doing so, he reveals a fat, fuzzy little teddy bear, with stubby arms and legs and large, doe eyes

That grabs your attention in an instant

You love stuffed animals, as much as you hate to admit it, being as old as you are and all...

But Ringo doesn't judge

In fact, he figures if it makes you happy, then why not!

And after all, you do love teddy bears...

Ringo sees it's caught your attention, and he feels a touch better

"Oh, do you like it? Made me think of you", he turns the bear over, holding it in both hands, then holds it out to you with a sweet smile

You sniff, and give a tiny smile in return as you accept the gift

"Oh?", you boop the big black triangle on the end of the bear's round snout, "Cause he kind of makes me think of you..."

Your eyes flick from the stitched on smile of your bear, to the adorable smile of your boyfriend

Ringo blushes a little at the complement while you give your bear a tight hug

He rubs at the back of his neck and looks away shyly

"So... Did you want to talk maybe? Sorry, you just seem upset is all..."

You think on it a moment

"...Tell you upstairs?", You clutch your bear in one arm, and reach for Ringo with your other

"Sure", Ringo takes your hand and follows you upstairs

You situate yourself in bed and the two of you get cozy

Ringo passes you a box of tissues, just in case, and you begin to pet your bear and talk about your bad day

Of course, Ringo listens empathetically, but he can't stop stealing glances at your hands

You interupt your story as you catch his stare, "Oh, did you want to...?"

You put aside your bear and open up your arms to him

Ringo lights up with a grin and eagerly crawls into your arms

You hook your arms under his and help him adjust to a comfortable position, leaning against you

Once he's settled, you massage your fingers through his hair, and it does quite the trick for your anxiety

The simple act of holding your boyfriend makes you feel better already, but you finish your story regardless

Ringo isn't much for fancy, soothing words like the others, but he is sorry to hear it all of course

He gives you a kiss, then hugs you back for a long while

"Can I do anything for ya?"

You take a deep calming breath, and the comforting scent of Ringo's shampoo and after shave wash over you

"You're already doing it", you hug him tighter and snuggle closer

The two of you decide in that moment, without mentioning a word, to stay amongst the blankets for the rest of the day

And soon enough, all your troubles are forgotten

[shy-violet-soul]

Puppy Love

Summary: When Uncle Dean takes his first solo niece-sitting gig, what could possibly go wrong? Characters: Dean Winchester, Castile, Sam Winchester x reader, & OC Erica from a story written by @kittenofdoomage titled “Rainbows in the Sun” Word Count: 2,600 Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I had the privilege and delight of reading @kittenofdoomage Supernatural series, “Rainbows in the Storm”, on Patreon. If you’re not a patron of hers, you are missing out! I quickly fell in love with this amazing story - her characterization and nail-biting cliffhangers kept me hooked the whole way through. But one little sentence in the Epilogue had me laughing, and my imagination ran away with me. This is for you, @kittenofdoomage !

Image found on https://wallpapersafari.com/w/kn7fwH

Dean Winchester didn’t brag about his assets often. But he had zero problem with his pride at the oft given praises his mouth had earned from the ladies. His lips had brought delight to many a babe. The current babe in his arms was no different.

The fact that she was four months old, and his niece, didn’t detract from his pride one iota.

Crossing his eyes, Dean happily blew raspberries continuously as he leaned down before smacking noisy kisses under her chin. Erica’s baby giggles burst forth as she waved her hands, and Dean had to do it again.

“Thhhhbbbffft,” he wagged his face side to side as he leaned down, letting his nose rub against her tiny chest tickingly before diving back under one round cheek and smacking more kisses. Dimples winked up at Uncle Dee, Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes gazing up at him with delight, and he fell a little more in love yet again.

“You’re adorable,” came his matter of fact observation. Erica grinned her agreement. “Good genes, darlin’. You got your mama’s nose, and I’m pretty sure your killer Winchester smile from your uncle, not your daddy.” With the ease of long practice, Dean swiped the burp cloth from his shoulder and dabbed at the drool on her tiny chin. “Do me a favor and smile a lot. Like me, not like Mr. Grumpy Pants Daddy.”

Delicate eyebrows knitted together as Erica cooed seriously. Dean nodded proudly. “That’s my girl. Now, your mama said not to worry about your bath. I think it’s because she doesn’t think I can handle it. You and I both know that’s crap, right?” Erica chewed intently on her fists in answer. “Right. So gimme one more giggle and then it’s ‘Rubber Ducky, You’re the One’. Here we go!”

One more time, Dean raspberried down, down to Erica’s sweet smiling face. Just as he started growling under her chin, her squeal changed into something weird. Several things crammed into Dean’s brain in about a millisecond.

One - Erica sounded like she yipped. Like, puppy yipped. But that couldn’t be. He was wrong.

Two - her soft, slightly drool-slimy chin was suddenly different soft. Like fluffy furry soft. Which also couldn't be. He had to be wrong.

Three - the chubby little fists she loved to chew on suddenly swiped claws against his face. Like, claws. Puppy claws. Which also so very much please couldn’t be.

Please, oh please, Dean wanted to be wrong.

Post millisecond, Dean yanked himself upright and felt his stomach drop straight to Rowena’s throne room.

A chubby, fluffy wolf pup - adorable, yes, but a freakin’ wolf pup - lay wriggling in his lap, snout wreathed in puppy smiles as it waved its paws up at him.

Dumbfounded, Dean sat frozen for a moment. He slowly stood up, holding the pup at arms length before gently setting it on the couch. Then, he frantically searched under the throw pillows at each end, under your blanket tossed over the back, even under the couch itself for his suddenly missing niece. No human baby surfaced.

His frantic gaze fell on the wolf pup. It lounged right where he’d laid it, studying him curiously. Erica’s cute lady-bug onesie and leggings stretched and gapped in equal measures around fluffy legs and paws, and the red barrette he’d painstakingly affixed into his human niece’s hair earlier sat holding a hank of creamy-brown fur straight up between its ears.

“Oh, crap”

At his whisper, the wolf pup smiled happily and launched itself at him. His reflexes kicked in and his arms scooped the little bundle against his chest, falling backwards to the floor. The pup wiggled its way up his chest and slopped a lick against his chin before gazing into his eyes lovingly.

Gazed with Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes.

“Son of a bitch!” Tucking pup-Erica under one arm, Dean dove for his cell phone. “Cas!” Pup-Erica playful clawed and nipped at his phone as he frantically tried to call Sam. No answer, straight to voicemail. Same thing for your phone. This was bad.

“CAS!”

“Hello, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t even hesitate, just thrust the pup at the angel.

“Fix this!” he bellowed, pup-Erica wiggling happily in his grasp at the sight of her other uncle. Castiel tilted his head as he stared at the pup.

“Hello, Erica. Are you enjoying your first shift?” She yipped as Castiel took her in his arms, slopping kiss after kiss on his face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Dean had braced his hands on his legs as he leaned down, head between his knees as he wheezed in air. Cas stared at him quizzically.

“Dean, are you alright?”

He raised a hand, wordlessly asking for a moment. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Maybe an explosive ulcer,” he croaked out.

Nonplussed, Cas pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead. “I detect none of these events occurring, Dean. Although your blood pressure is highly elevated, and you appear to be generating a migraine. I can’t heal that until your heart rate slows down. You should try to relax.”

Dean’s hands fisted onto Cas’s trench coat collars, pulling himself up to standing to glare maniacally into his friend’s placid gaze.

“My niece is a dog, Cas! I’m not going to relax! I’m going to be murdered when they get back! Sam’s gonna...” His grip loosened as his thoughts zoomed to your reaction. “She’s going to chew me to kibble.” Horror trembled in his whisper as he dragged his hands over his face.

Sad, tiny whining begged for attention as a tentative paw patted at his arm. Still dazed beyond comprehension, Dean blinked down at the blue eyes staring woefully up at him. By sheer habit, Dean tucked the little one into his arms, warmth filling his chest when she snuggled into his shoulder - just like human-Erica did. The high-pitched whine echoed from her chest into a full-fledged howl that Dean would later recall as ridiculously cute. But now, his niece was sad and needed her uncle.

“It’s alright, ladybug, it’s alright. Look, Uncle Dee’s ok. Uncle Cas and me are gonna take care of you, don’t you worry.” Instinctively, Dean moved to pat her back before switching gears to gently scritching her ears. “Cas, can you talk to her?”

“While I can speak to lycans in their wolf form, as a juvenile, she still has not learned words. She’s upset right now, but calming. However, she has forgotten in the urgency of the moment that she’s hungry.”

Dean’s eyes closed as this new challenge presented itself. When Erica whined again, cuddling closer, he snapped to attention.

“Alright. We’ve got a highly experienced hunter and an angel. We got this. We can take care of one baby wolfed-out lycan.”

Two destroyed bottle nipples and a spilled canister of powdered formula later, Dean wasn’t sure they had this at all. Cas currently sat at the kitchen table with Erica, dipping his fingers into a bowl of formula and letting her lick and suck to her heart’s content. However, the going was slow, so Dean was improvising plan B. He’d dug up one of his softest old tshirts and some of your hair ties. In moments, he had fashioned a teat that he hoped to kingdom come would work.

“Alight, Cas, give her here.” Frustrated and hungry, Erica growled as she tried to climb into the formula bowl, her nose and face liberally coated with the white liquid. Working in tandem, Cas started soaking the cloth teat in the formula while Dean wrapped his flannel shirt around the wriggling pup, using the sleeves to swaddle her still. Then, he cradled her in his elbow and mentally crossed his fingers. Erica nosed the soaked fabric curiously before giving a tentative lick, then a bit of a chomp. Two seconds later, she was sucking with gusto, tiny grunts of approval rumbling from her. When Dean pulled it away to resoak it, the pup was not impressed; demanding, squeaky barks let her uncles know to hurry it up! Both men chuckled as the feeding went on until Erica stopped sucking and just chewed.

“Good job, ladybug,” Dean praised as he unwound the flannel from about her. “Look at that fat little belly!” With a gentle touch, he tickled the soft pink skin, laughing again when she squirmed, panting happily. Dean handed her off to Cas while he snagged the bowl, carefully stepping over the drifts of powdered formula. “Gotta say, Cas, didn’t know you were so experienced with wolf baby care.”

“I once cared for a baby elephant who had been separated from his mother in the sub-Saharan plains. It’s pretty much the same thing.”

Water running as he washed the bowl, Dean sent a scoff over his shoulder at the angel.

“No, Cas. It really isn’t.” A pause as Dean fully turned to look at his friend. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

Dean’s eyes rolled so hard, they saw it from space. “The Duchess of Cambridge. Erica, you dumb ass!”

The angel looked down and glanced around him, his arms glaringly empty. “She’s not here.”

Dean’s left eyelid started twitching. Wasn’t that a symptom of a stroke? “I can see that. Why are you not holding her?”

“She wanted down.”

A faint cracking sound in his skull only faintly registered with Dean; probably a molar, but that was an issue for later. “She wanted down? That’s all you got? She wanted down?!” That migraine from earlier suddenly flared to life, and Dean nearly broke a bone in his scramble into the library.

“ERICA!!! Come to Uncle Dee, honey!” A cheerful yip and rhythmic claw clicking caught his ear, and Dean turned his head so quickly he gave himself a crick. Luck was on their side - Erica’s human baby clothes had hobbled wolf pup Erica, and her limping, lopping progress in their direction was pure cuteness. Dean hit his knees and swept her into his arms. “Ladybug, you can’t do that to your uncle! He’s an old man!” He pressed kiss after kiss to her wet nose, gratefully accepting her boisterous and slightly drooly puppy kisses. Even the one that went in his eyeball.

Sending Cas a glare of pure exasperation, he began wrestling the baby clothes off the wiggly bundle of fluff.

“Alright. We’ve survived two crises, I think the worst is behind us.”

All seriousness and brevity, Cas nodded as he straightened, scooping a small, leather-bound copy of A Hystori of Caledonian Monsters from the floor. The aged tome bore a surprising amount of chewing and puppy drool from the short amount of time of his niece’s unsupervised freedom.

“Agreed.”

- - - 2 hours later - - -

Sam grinned down at you dopily as you both trudged down the long hall from the garage. The long-overdue date hadn’t been what he’d originally planned. But when the waxing moon and wildflower-scented breeze had hit them both, candlelight and overpriced pasta didn’t seem near as appealing as sizzling sexy times in the back seat, burgers and fries and milkshakes from the drive through, and shifting to frolic in the tall, windswept grass of an open field.

The quiet of the bunker wasn’t terribly unsurprising; Uncle Dee was a veritable decibel defender when it came to his niece’s nap time. No baby girl of mine is growing up used to only four hours and calling that rest! he had scorned. The fact that the newborn was only sleeping four hours at a time anyway, and wasn’t his actual daughter, was resolutely ignored.

What was surprising was the carnage that greeted them. Library chairs laid on their sides in some type of corral. Erica’s baby toys rested in varying stages of repose or destruction. Burp clothes, towels, and receiving blankets were scattered, some whole, some slightly torn. An open bottle of baby shampoo slowly glugged its contents onto the table. Someone had attempted to hide some damaged lore books behind a lamp. And pillows - so many pillows - were everywhere, their feathery guts flung to every corner of the room.

Instantly on alert, Sam waved you to stay back as he drew his gun and began easing forward. Senses honed by years of battle didn’t pick up on any immediate threat, but the proof before him clearly spoke otherwise. When your hands fisted into his shirt, fingers trembling in sudden fear, he reached back to touch your back reassuringly.

“Dean?” he shouted questioningly. His voice echoed against the cavernous ceiling, but still no foe came at them. With a tentative touch, he nudged a tired pillow over, finding another damaged lore book beneath it. Sam gingerly grabbed it, lifting it up to squint at the mangled leather and paper.

“Are those…” you started haltingly, peering over his shoulder.

“They look like...tiny teeth marks.” You stared at Sam wordlessly before you both sprinted for the bedrooms. The nursery door banged against the wall loudly, and the occupants of the room flinched but didn’t stir beyond that.

One side of the crib was hanging haphazardly from its left-side screws, a blanket strangled in the slats. A stuffed tiger toy that you secretly hated lay with its head missing and cotton stuffing innards hanging out. No less than 11 diapers scattered across the floor with the tapes missing. Sleeper legs and flannel blankets dangled from open dresser drawers. Clouds of baby powder, liberally dusted into higgledee piggledee piles, still hazed the light glowing from the lamp near the upholstered rocking recliner in the corner. In the middle of the madness lay the hapless heroes.

They had somehow managed to winch Dean’s fancy memory foam mattress into the room, one corner of it caught and peeling up against the toy chest. Cas lay on one side, his trench coat hanging off one arm and his tie out from under his collar and wrinkled beyond belief. Dean looked no better; his grey tshirt showed dark swathes of damp that smelled like baby shampoo. His hair stood up in weird handfuls, as if he’d been gripping it in his fists in desperation. Shoeless, he only wore one sock. A handful of raggedy baby wipes poked out of his back pocket.

And between them both, tenderly snuggled into a nest of nearly every blanket in the bunker lay a precious creamy-brown wolf pup, sleeping contentedly without a care in the world.

Sam knew his jaw had hit the floor, and figured you were in the same boat.

“Is that...her?”

You took a couple of careful steps forward into the wreckage. Closing your eyes, you let your stronger lycan senses take over. The soft, sugary scent of honeysuckle comforted your mama heart as you smiled in disbelief.

“Yep, that’s her.”

“You mean she had her first shift and we missed it?!”

Chuckling softly, you picked your way through the baby item minefield. Only a Winchester would be more upset about missing a baby’s first shift than the absolute destruction of their home.

“It looks like.”

“What do we do? Does she know how to shift back?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, stilling them Erica twitched and squeaked in her sleep. “I don’t know. I’ll call my mom, maybe she can help us.”

Warm, long fingers curled around your hips to tug you back against him. You could sense his delight at the picture before them. Whatever had happened, his brother and friend had adapted and overcome. His daughter was so loved.

“I guess we should wake them up.”

You grinned as you dug out your phone. “Not until I get a picture.”

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

Please, keep me. (Good Omens)

I’m back and I’m aimed with another long chapter full of cute visuals and sweet angel moments. I had some time to myself this week to really hammer through about 4k of words into it, and I needed to chop it up to make more accessible chapters. The last chapter of this chapter will be at the beginning of Part 11, which is a shame as I wanted every chapter to be self-contained. 

I hope whoever reads this enjoys! Part 1 is here, and the parts are tagged ‘please keep me’ and should be tagged with each part as they go. 

Part 10

There had been a look in Aziraphale’s eyes as they had parted ways, a slight distracted glaze as he absentmindedly stroked Crowley’s head in goodbye. He had watched the angel turn and leave with the same faraway expression on his face, already rummaging for the checklist in his pocket. Crowley waited until the angel was out of sight, walking towards the hall and his supper, before slithering into his usual hiding place in the shelves. His collection of paper notes had grown gradually, secreted away from Aziraphale when the angel was distracted or borrowed from inside books he could smell the angel’s touch on. The nest rustled as he settled in, wriggling into his stash and he used his tongue to trace across the handwritten words. 

He had found so many scattered ones now that he had cultivated a series of favourites. One was taken from one of Aziraphale’s favourite books, if the repetition of scent on it’s spine was any indication of the times it had been revisited. 

I loved him against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.  - C.D.

Crowley could almost hear the soft voice of his Keeper breathing over the words, with a slight sadness but with the same intensity of love he was used to. This note was lovely, but there was something held back in it that always moved Crowley onto his next favourite note, a scrap of paper written with a smudge of ink along from the last word. 

The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you. - J.R.

Something about this one made him shiver from the base of his tail all the way through to his snout, with a barely suppressed wriggle of happiness. He couldn’t describe the feelings that it brought up in him, but they made him feel like someone was whispering a secret into his ear, like he was hearing something that should be private and safe and only for him. 

Greedily he moved onto the next one. 

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. - P.N.

These words had an effect on Crowley he couldn’t understand. A kind of warmth broke out across his scales and he felt giddy with happiness from it, like some kind of glow from inside his form was filling him up with light and joy and excitement. There was a tinge of desperation in it, like a knife’s edge traced across his heart and wanted more than anything to break skin and flow into Aziraphale, to pour himself like a golden liquid across his angel and intertwine them together like stardust  tossed across the sky. 

He couldn’t begin to process what these feelings meant, something about the intensity of them both scared and excited him. Instead he just settled down into the little paper cocoon and sighed heavily, his thoughts slinking back to his angel and his expression. He had looked pensive, thoughtful, but there was a certain hunger that Crowley had no doubts related to his thwarted search for sweet treats. Crowley knew the angel wasn’t fully satisfied, even after their wonderful adventure meeting creations in the forest. He would have to remedy that. 

A resolution came to him quickly, and he wasted no time in leaving his little hiding spot and slinking his way back into the library alone. He had time, he was sure, to find what his angel hungered for. 

He was late. 

Not too late, but late enough to hurry. He almost tripped on his robes hurrying up the stairs into the open sky, pushing himself away as to reach his work station just a little quicker. He glanced around as he came level with his latest project, a large twisted nebula with pockets of explosive gases that reared up in a pattern similar to a bulbous coral he had found among the aqua houses. He felt eyes on him, but only flicked his gaze across the sky to try and identify who had observed him. Seeing no one, he turned his attention back to his nebula and set his mind solely into the shades of dust he was painting. Every so often a secret smile would find its way onto his face, as thoughts about what he had found for his little Keeper crept in. He couldn’t wait for the Day to come so he could lead Aziraphale to their latest adventure. 

He knew there would be nothing but praise and adoration from his angel for his ‘little thing’, and just thinking about the delights he had in store were enough to distract him all the way through the Night. Nothing would stop him from seeing his angel’s face light up. 

When the time finally came for Aziraphale to come find Crowley in the library, Crowley was in place and almost giddy with excitement. He had struggled to get any rest during the Dawn shift, replaying how he would reveal the new adventure to Aziraphale over and over again. Each time he had imagined a more elaborate scene, a more dramatic discovery of pleasure, and with each replayed fantasy he indulgently added more nuances to Aziraphale’s joy. At first the angel merely gasped in joy, but over time that evolved into a litany of delighted praises upon Crowley, compliments and adorations heaped upon him as the angel took in every little bit of his surprise. He added to Aziraphale’s beaming smile until it was a grin, his eyes crinkled and even his chin disappearing in such pleasure as Crowley intended to give him. 

These thoughts and fantasies refused to quiet as Crowley lay in his bed, fussing and fidgeting until close to the ringing of the Dawn’s ending bell. Without waiting for cover, he simply dressed quickly and made his way towards the library with an anxious spring in his step and most possibly the most mad hair he had ever left his room with. Nothing mattered beyond arriving in the library and finding his angel. 

Now situated in his nest, he had the urge to pace maddeningly, but was limited by the books and his array of notes. His tail flicked from side to side instead, and he waited until he heard the telltale foot falls of his angel. 

“Good morning,” came the soft warm voice and all the anxiety in Crowley melted away like ice. He sighed heavily and wound his way out, still overcome with the love in Aziraphale’s eyes as they were finally reunited. 

“How is my little thing this morning?” 

Crowley blinked slowly, head reared up towards Aziraphale and wriggled in answer. He made a slow lazy loop around the angel’s ankles and flicked his tongue towards his fingers, trying his best to convey both his own happiness and the requirement that Aziraphale should follow him. 

“You clever thing, what are we doing today?”

Crowley tugged with his tail from his position still looped around Aziraphale’s feet, inclining his head towards the library corridors. Aziraphale looked at him, then up, before meeting his eyes again with a wide smile. 

“Oh, you know already, don’t you? How exciting!” 

With a triumphant hiss Crowley started to lead the way, weaving his body along the stone floor as Aziraphale followed behind him. Every so often he would look over his shoulder to find the angel still smiling at him, his eyes shining with excitement. When they came to their first fork, Crowley chose the left without hesitation and internally smirked when Aziraphale made a soft ‘oh’ noise and quickly hurried to follow. This continued for some time, with Crowley retracing his steps (or slithers) to their destination and Aziraphale following him in complete faith. Finally the library began to change around them, signalling that Crowley had been correct that he would be able to find his way back. 

At first the changes were subtle, the stone passageway giving way to large cobblestones that then descended into small slotted bricks, the groves between them spotted with moss. The bookshelves had become a rougher wood, unpolished and the books themselves went from being neatly organised into rows to being stacked and slotted into the spaces in a fairly haphazard way. Light glowed down from above them, casting shadows from the bookshelves towards the path and glowing on the covers of free standing towers of books left in the passageway which Crowley wove in between with ease. 

Aziraphale had stopped to bend and move these books out of the way, commenting how warm the light on his back was, when Crowley heard a noise of discovery from the angel. 

“Oh, little thing, look!” 

Crowley doubled back to where the Keeper was crouching to find the angel cupping something in two hands as he removed it from the bookshelf. Crowley came to him to peer inside his hands and found the angel was holding a small glass ornament of a mouse. It was small, close to the size it had been in the mural, and almost completely clear except for a slight tinge of pink at the nose and paws, with two bright black eyes. It was positioned standing on two hind legs, nose pointed up to investigate. Aziraphale was smiling at him, before meeting Crowley’s eyes. 

“What a sweet little object,” he said admiringly. “And to think it was just hidden away in with these books,” 

Aziraphale carefully restored the mouse to its shelf and continued to weave between the stacks of books after Crowley. They went slowly now, with the angel carefully looking out for more treasures tucked among the hodgepodge towers of books. Aziraphale pointed out a dish with a collection of perfectly round glass marbles in it, each one coloured differently. Crowley noticed a little ceramic vase only a finger’s length tall with a single sprig of lavender in it. They saw more tiny ceramic animals tucked up, as well as a sculpted bronze bull with flowers in its shaggy hair. As they made their way through, more objects appeared - a globe of the Earth they were working on which Aziraphale sent spinning on its pivot, a metal watering can, a small stack of colourful river rocks, a collection of spiky chestnut shells and their conkers nearby. Each discovery was delightful to Aziraphale, who had a compliment for every one. 

Nosing his way along the path, Crowley was happy to go at his angel’s pace and not rush their adventure, but he knew their destination would far outweigh these little discoveries. As he slithered, a flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention. On investigation he found a little space in between two books with something wedged in, just catching the sunlight beaming down on them. He looked closer. It was a gold ring, large enough for an adult. A golden signet ring with a badge in the centre and a crown of metal feathers around the band. A suggestion of a lion in the badge, but Crowley’s snake eyes had limitations with the smaller details. It was beautiful. 

Crowley turned to look back at his angel, who was currently looking at a small wooden puppet of a frog and telling it how wonderful it was. Crowley once again felt that pang of warmth spread through him, and turned back to the ring. It took only a quick wriggle of his tail and a tug to free the ring from the bookshelf, and he admired it in the light for a moment, before turning towards his Keeper. 

Even while completely engrossed in his attention to the puppet, Aziraphale turned towards Crowley as if he could sense his presence, and smiled widely. 

“Oh, little thing, isn’t this frog - oh my, what do you have there?”

Crowley held out the end of his tail with the ring threaded over it, inclining it towards Aziraphale’s open hands. The angel plucked it from him and regarded it carefully, turning it between his fingers. 

“Oh! Oh my!” he said with a breathy voice. “What a beautiful ring you found,” 

He met Crowley’s eyes who nudged his snout forward, brushing it against Aziraphale’s hand. 

“For me?” 

Crowley inclined his head a little, suddenly feeling bashful at the tone of disbelief in Aziraphale’s voice. The angel opened his mouth and closed it again, looking back at the ring and then at Crowley. 

“This is for me?” he repeated. It then occurred to Crowley, from the softness in Aziraphale’s voice, that his angel had never received a gift before. It didn’t occur to Crowley that, in fact, neither had he. 

“Oh, little thing,” sighed the angel, with a small smile that turned into a laugh, “Oh, you sweet thing,” 

Crowley nudged his hand again, unable to process the seemingly endless series of emotions that he saw playing out on Aziraphale’s face that happened to mirror the ones thudding through his form. All he knew was that he needed to see his angel wearing this ring, smiling that smile. 

Aziraphale slipped the ring onto his pinky ring and turned his hand out to admire it. There was a slight catch in his throat, and Crowley saw a shimmering at the corner of his eyes. 

“Oh, little thing,” he said, his eyes beseeching “I can’t begin to tell you…”

It appeared that since the first time of knowing his angel, Crowley found his Aziraphale was lost for words. The angel shook his head softly, unable to look away from the ring, except to meet Crowley’s eyes and smile again. 

“Thank you,” 

Aziraphale bent down, his hand under Crowley’s jaw and his lips brushing the top of his head in a gentle and entirely unexpected kiss. 

When Crowley looked back on this day, many years after the moment had passed, he would describe it as one of the happiest days he had ever spent in a complete state of emotional bedlam. Whilst on the exterior he had simply blinked slowly and then calmly turned to lead the way to their destination, his interior thought process had completely, and wondrously, short-circuited. 

The bookshelves fully began to give way to red bricked walls, with a series of rose bushes trellised along them. Crowley could hear Aziraphale stopping at each one to touch their petals and admire their beauty, but he didn’t stop until he reached an archway leading into a short dark tunnel of brick. At the far edge, only a short distance, was a curved metal gate with the sunlight pouring through it. This was where he waited for Aziraphale to join him. 

“I can’t tell you how excited I am, little thing,” said the angel as he walked up to the gate. “You must have found something wondrous,”

For you, of course, thought Crowley, and then slipped himself through the metal railing of the gate and into the sunlight. Aziraphale opened the gate to follow, and let out a small gasp as he took in their surroundings.

They had come out into a small rectangular courtyard. Along one side ran the same red brick garden wall with more trellises of roses before joining up to the three sides of a two story red brick house. It had a thatched roof and white window frames and sills, but green shutters which were carefully pinned back to the brick walls. There was a stable door leading into the house, the top half wide open with the same green painted wood. 

In between them and the door was a small courtyard garden, with a path criss crossing across in between four raised planting beds for vegetables.Just beyond them was a very small patch of grass with a small metal table and two deckchairs, the striped fabric faded by the sunlight. Crowley didn’t stop to watch the butterfly loop over the green bean plants, or at the brilliant colours of the roses, he turned back to watch Aziraphale’s face. 

The angel had stopped in his tracks and had lifted his hands to his mouth, his eyes moving from one little piece of the whole beautiful picture to the next. His eyes were wide, and Crowley watched carefully for the moment when the angel didn’t just take it all in with his eyes, but also with his nose. 

He didn’t have to wait long before Aziraphale turned his head a little, breathed deeply through his nose and flared his nostrils with a sudden flash of his eyes. 

“Ooh… what’s that marvellous smell?”

If Crowley had the ability to smirk in this form, he would have been grinning from ear to ear. He turned and inclined his head towards the stable door before leading Aziraphale across the middle of the courtyard. The window beside was open and just visible behind the swaying net curtain was a large pie, gentling wafting its sweet perfectly cooked scent out towards them.  

He reached the stable door, lifted himself up to flick his head over the edge and unceremoniously plopped the various long loops of himself into the kitchen of the house.

“Little thing! You shouldn’t -”

Aziraphale leaned over the door but his scolding was immediately curtailed by the sight of so many goodies. There was not one, but three pies resting on the window sill next to them, each one with painstakingly intricately cut pastry on their curved tops. Under the window sill the kitchen counters formed three sides of a square with a large metal sink underneath the window looking out towards the garden. Within the sink sat a large used mixing bowl with a series of spatulas and whisks and spoons inside it, waiting to be cleaned up. 

Beyond the area of the stove and counters the rest of the kitchen was bright, light poured across the window sill and lighting up the well scrubbed wooden table which held a large glass cake stand with a magnificent victoria sponge cake, tall and sandwiched with jam and cream and lightly dusted with icing sugar. The rest of the table was covered in trays of gingerbread on baking parchment, a mixture of gingerbread men, snowflakes and other larger pieces. Crowley ignored the angel’s continued half hearted protests as he slithered his way across the kitchen floor and found his way onto the closest kitchen chair, making his way towards the window sill bathed in light. 

“I suppose you’re going to make me come in there and fetch you, aren’t you?” said Aziraphale finally, with an expression that looked hopeful and a tone designed to sound perfectly peeved at the whole situation. “You little fiend,” 

Crowley hissed lazily and flicked his tongue towards the angel, enjoying the performance from his little Keeper. No matter how bothered Aziraphale pretended to look at him, he could easily see the plain delight at gaining access to this place. Aziraphale’s hand had just finally stopped dithering and was reaching for the inside latch to open the door when footsteps were heard in the hallway outside of the kitchen. 

“Oh good, you found your way here finally,” came a voice, and Aziraphale’s face cleared from worry to delight again. It was the little girl from the forest, now without her red cape or basket. She was carrying a cloth of bundled herbs in her hands, her hair in tight pigtails and her feet bare. She set the herbs down and turned to Crowley, smiling. “Hello, Mr Snakey, very nice to see you again,”

Crowley inclined his head in greeting, and curled himself into a loose series of knots along the windowsill, spreading as to let his glittering scale soak up as much of the sun as possible. 

“Are you coming in? I made some lemonade,” she said, turning her attention back to the angel. 

“Oh, um, yes, well I - um,” 

Aziraphale let himself into the kitchen after a little more dithering and came to join the little girl at the table as she removed a large jug of cloudy lemonade from the large cold box in the corner of the kitchen. She dropped a trayful of ice cubes into the jug, before grabbing the herbs and stripping the mint leaves straight into the jug. Once this was all done, she poured a large glass and handed it to Aziraphale. 

“Oh, thank you so much,” he said, smiling deeply. “How did you know we were coming?” 

She smiled at him and then a little more secretively at Crowley. 

“Of course you were coming! You were invited, weren’t you? Didn’t your friend bring you directly?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed brightly at Crowley, who pretended to ignore him and flicked his tongue lazily at the small saucer of lemonade now placed in front of his snout on the sill. He knew the angel had a lot of questions, but a lot of them got stuck wanting to come out altogether in one go. 

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked him, sweeping through the surprise on his face as he opened and shut his mouth, trying to find a single question to start with. 

“I am the Keeper Aziraphale,” the angel told her, sipping his lemonade and sighing heavily. “And that fiendish little creature on the windowsill is my companion, I call him little thing, as he has yet to tell me his name,” 

She considered this for a moment. 

“He’s not very little though, is he?” 

“No I suppose not, but he is my little thing regardless,”  

She nodded, as this made sense. 

“I like your name, it’s very pretty,”

“Why thank you. May I ask your name?” 

“My grandmother calls me Dorothy, but my mummy calls me Dottie. My pa likes to call me Dot, so I don’t mind which one you want to use,” “Oh my, so many lovely options! I suppose I might call you Dorothy, if that’s ok?” 

She nodded, finishing her glass of lemonade and pouring them both another glass. From the window Crowley continued to lazily taste his saucer, and watch with a hidden smile as his angel relaxed. 

“This is a beautiful home you have here, Dorothy. Your garden is lovely,” 

She nodded again. 

“It takes a lot of work keeping it free of weeds, but it’s worth the hard work. There’s plenty of fruits for jams and pies, although I still need to go to the market for the flour and butter for the cakes,” 

“Did you bake all of these yourself?” Aziraphale asked, lust evident in his bright eyes as his gaze lingers on each sweet treat. Dorothy smirked a little, and plucked an undecorated gingerbread man from the closest tray. She snapped him in two pieces and handed one to Aziraphale. 

“I made all of the cookies, and I helped with the cakes but my mummy did all of the pies. She’s forever baking pies for the neighbours,” 

Watching Aziraphale’s expression as he accepted the legs of the gingerbread man, Crowley knew he hadn’t heard anything she had said about the baking. His eyes had grown wide, his mouth open a little as he brought the biscuit to his face. He sniffed first, closing his eyes briefly to savour the solid tang of fresh ginger and cinnamon. Crowley held his breath as the angel bit into the soft gingerbread, knowing he would remember this moment for the rest of his existence. Aziraphale’s eyes were still shut as he chewed softly, and his eyebrows tilted in a pleading, awed expression as he gave a gentle but muffled moan of happiness. When he did open his eyes, he first looked at Dorothy and smiled as he chewed, but then his eyes found Crowley’s and held them. 

Nothing could describe the warmth pouring from the Keeper into Crowley in that moment. It was nothing short of pure adoration. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head a little in disbelief. Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his angel glowing in his cream robes, the sunlight gleaming off his curls and his wings tucked neatly into the corner. He was just perched at the table so carefully, his feet crossed at the ankle and the biscuit still held in two hands close to his face like he was in a form of devotion, giving his own silent prayer to Her for creating the flavour he was savouring. He appeared as if he was made of pure sunlight. 

Perfect, thought Crowley softly, suddenly overcome by the swell of emotion rising up in him. Just… perfect. 

Soon enough the gingerbread man was gone, and Aziraphale had regained his voice. 

“Such marvellous creations,” he sighed. His voice was soft and gentle, like a breeze plucking at dandelion seeds. The dreamy look on his face would stay in Crowley’s memories forever. “Just like I had always hoped,” 

“Have you never had gingerbread before?” asked Dorothy, her eyes widened and a little concerned for him. 

“My dear, I have never eaten anything like that before. Angels do not tend to eat anything besides bread, honey and nectar. Sweet things, to be sure, but nothing like this,” 

“I’ve never had nectar, but we get honey from our neighbour’s bees in exchange for some of our rhubarb,” Dorothy said. “Fancy never trying gingerbread before!”

“Thank you ever so much for sharing it with me,” Aziraphale said earnestly. His hands were still clasped loosely together in front of him, giving him the appearance of an angel in praise. 

“Would you like to help me decorate some more?” Dorothy asked, already getting up from the table to start opening cupboard doors and pulling out boxes. “I have so much to do, and I would guess if you’ve never eaten gingerbread before, you’ve never decorated it either,” 

“One decorates it as well? In what fashion?”

Dorothy slid two boxes onto the kitchen table, one brimming with coloured icing in small tubes with metal nozzles, and the another stacked with pots of colourful sugary sweets Crowley recognised from their reading in the library - gumdrops, candycanes, jellied fruits, sprinkles and chocolate buttons. Aziraphale leant forward in excitement. 

“These certainly aren’t painted rocks,” he said, picking up a little pot of hard boiled sweets in bright cheerful colours. Dorothy laughed as she slid the trays towards them on the table. 

“You went to visit the Hatter, didn’t you? Isn’t he peculiar?” 

Aziraphale made a face and huffed lightly, accepting the parchment of gingerbread. 

“Peculiar is definitely one word to describe him,” he muttered, one eyebrow flicking dismissively and Crowley hissed a low laugh to himself, enjoying seeing his angel be just a smidge petty. Aziraphale’s eyes met Crowley’s again and the angel smiled so warmly at him that Crowley had to avert his gaze. Those loving looks of Aziraphale tended to overwhelm him lately. 

It turned out that even with Dorothy’s careful guidance and several quickly scribbled guides, Aziraphale was a disaster at decorating gingerbread men. He couldn’t seem to get the correct pressure to squeeze out the coloured icing, frequently squeezing too hard and sending small spurts of sugar across the table. He also seemed consistent in accidentally placing the side of his hand directly into the icing he had correctly applied, somewhat altering its original course. When it came time to add the gumdrop buttons, he couldn’t get them to unstick from his fingers and it seemed several more got eaten than were successfully applied. Crowley wasn’t sure exactly how he had managed it, but Aziraphale had also managed to get a smudge of melted chocolate on the tip of his nose as he worked, leaning so close to his work with the tip of his tongue stuck between his teeth in concentration. This was even more impressive as they so far had not even brought out the chocolate drops to the table yet. 

Watching his angel fumble and curse lightly and try so hard to do well, Crowley found himself swimming in a sea of adoration. How could a single form contain as much charm and sweetness as his little Keeper? How could Crowley’s form, restricted as it was to his serpent shape, manage to lock away the sheer force of devotion he felt towards this silly little angel? 

Next to her hard working student Dorothy worked steadily, laughing gently with Aziraphale, correcting and encouraging whilst somehow managing to decorate two whole trays of gingerbread men and snowflakes while Aziraphale smudged his way through one. When they were finished, he watched her slide the trays into a cupboard with lots of smaller shelves for setting biscuits, including the larger undecorated pieces. 

“What are these for?” Aziraphale asked as he handed her several trays of geometric shapes. 

“These make a gingerbread house, I make the same one every year but always do the decorations differently,” 

Aziraphale’s face was a picture. 

“A gingerbread house?” he practically squeaked. “That sounds marvellous! Are you not making it right now?”

Crowley fought back another little laughing hiss, his angel was so precocious when he wanted to be. The little hopeful pout on the Keepers face was turned towards him again, but instead of dissolving into a warm smile, the pout turned into a little scowl and he wrinkled his nose at Crowley. 

“Quiet, you,” he said, “Don’t think just because I think you’re the best and most wonderful little thing in all creation, I won’t come over there and teach you some manners, you little fiend,” 

Crowley hissed again, this time with a wide grin on his snake features, and wriggled his head a little from side to side without breaking eye contact. It was a playful challenge, and he saw Aziraphale about to take the bait except Dorothy had turned back and tugged on his sleeve. 

“Ignore him, he’s a teasing snake. The gingerbread needs a little longer to set before I start putting it all together,” she said. “You can help me in the garden instead,” 

Aziraphale looked stricken for a moment, looking at all of the sweet treats still in the kitchen untasted, but he pulled himself together and nodded. By the back door she slipped on her garden shoes and a dusty pinny, handing another larger one to Aziraphale, who must be said looked absolutely splendid in pink. 

Crowley gave up his sunbathing spot to follow them lazily back into the garden. He decided the best way to enjoy the afternoon gardening when he didn’t have hands to help was to weave his way in between Aziraphale’s legs when he wasn’t looking, and get in his way at every opportunity. 

There were a lot of opportunities. 

“You really are trying my patience, little thing,” the angel told him, lifting his middle section out of the way of a large patch of ripe strawberries. As he plucked them free he offered one to Crowley who lapped his tongue lazily at it, before twisting away to reveal his crimson belly. Aziraphale popped the strawberry in his mouth and moaned lightly, his fingers grazing along the ridge of scales in thought. 

“Nearly the colour of strawberries,” he commented, one fingertip pressing to Crowley’s sunwarm scales. “Not quite raspberry either. Maybe a little more like cherry? Hard to say. Either way, cherry or not, will you please get out of the way?” 

Crowley hissed in pleasure, and continued to wriggle his belly up to the sun. He would have continued with this campaign of annoyance all the way through the harvesting of the sugar snap peas had Aziraphale not picked him up entirely, his two hands scooping him up and placing him behind his shoulders. Aziraphale was clearly a lot stronger than he looked at first glance, and Crowley found his head spinning a little as he realised the angel had draped his long body across his shoulders much like a feather boa. The realisation that he was now in a perfect prime position to both completely revel in his angel’s company and also utterly annoy him was a very pleasant one. 

“Is he always that active?” asked Dorothy a few minutes later as Aziraphale attempted to weed the tomato plants with a very friendly snake winding the tip of his tail through his white curls one by one. Aziraphale sighed critically, one hand going to brush a thumb against Crowley’s jaw absentmindedly.

“Hardly ever. I suppose it’s all this sun and excitement,” he commented as Crowley’s tail now moved and formed a delightful dastardly handlebar moustache across his upper lip. “Absolute little fiend,” 

Worth it, thought Crowley. 

After they had finished in the vegetable patch, Dorothy directed them to the deckchairs under the umbrella. Aziraphale sank down into it with a satisfied groan, slipping Crowley off from his shoulders and depositing him underneath the chair to hide in the shade under his robes. 

“That’s enough sun for you, you little hedonist,” he told him, unable to fight the smile on his face. 

Oh, I’m the hedonist? Thought Crowley, smirking. Pot, meet kettle. 

Despite this he found that this lovely spot of shade suited him very well. He arranged himself into a gentle coil, nestled his head under one of his many loops and closed his eyes. Above him Aziraphale sighed heavily and smiled, taking in the garden in the afternoon sun. He stretched his feet out, cracked his neck and stretched his angels out behind him until the primary feathers brushed against the brickwork. 

“You have such large wings,” 

Dorothy had returned, bringing a fresh jug of lemonade out to them. Aziraphale accepted his glass from her with thanks, suddenly aware of what effect the sun and the exertion of weeding had played on his form. 

“Yes, but in this form they tend to be a little on the smaller side, for a principality at least,” 

“You mean sometimes they’re bigger?” asked Dorothy, her face a little confused as she took the deckchair next to him. Aziraphale watched a butterfly amble through the tomato plants.

“Yes, in my true form they’re extremely large in relation to you, but in relation to an archangel they’re not very big. I suppose it’s all about perspective,” he said, sipping his lemonade. He jumped a little as he felt a tickle from his left wing, the one closest to Dorothy. She had reached out and was running her fingers along his large primary feathers. Below them Crowley’s eyes opened. 

“They’re so soft,” 

“Oh, yes, um, well,” stammered Aziraphale, “It’s just that… well, you see,” 

Crowley lifted his head, unsure if he should do something. Aziraphale’s flustered state was not Dorothy’s fault, for she had no idea what her simple touches meant. An angel’s wings were very sensitive, even in the form Aziraphale was in. To touch them so carefully was a very personal act, as preening them was usually done in solitude or with a trusted companion. In the correct context, touching another angel’s wings would be considered an intimate act. It was hard to say what it might mean to have a human touch them, but it was obvious from the way Aziraphale stumbled over his sentences that he wasn’t sure himself. 

“It’s just that I’m so terribly ticklish,” he finally told her, twitching his wings away and folding them carefully behind the deckchair, his primaries crossing over very close to where Crowley lay curled. 

Good save, thought Crowley. 

They continued to sit out in the garden for some time. The sound of Aziraphale and Dorothy’s soft voices as they chatted lulled Crowley along with the buzzing of bees and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. It seemed the perfect space for a nap, and Crowley didn’t fight sleep as it began to trickle over him. 

“So why would your grandmother live so far into the forest if you have such a lovely home here?” he heard Aziraphale ask, the clink of ice cubes in his glass. 

“She likes the privacy, and there’s always something exciting going on,”

“Oh, yes, I can understand that, new adventures can be quite thrilling after all,” 

“Do you like adventures?”

“Oh yes, of course. In fact...,” 

Aziraphale’s soft voice describing their days out was exactly the kind of lullaby Crowley would have dreamt up for himself when sleep evaded him. The angel had such a gentle voice, one made for lulling across syllables and almost dancing through his words. Add to this the wonderful fact that Aziraphale was endlessly praising his little thing’s uncanny ability to find the best new adventures each time, and Crowley was a very happy and very indulgent snake, who also happened to be completely and blissfully asleep. 

[tartxglia]

K9 Kafe // Felix

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: No

Words: 1,830 of pure tooth-rotting fluff

Fun fact: There’s a one-liner dialogue and tiny scene in here that I pictured being in one of the future Heaven’s Sin chapters ever since I started drafting Heaven’s Sin!

Up until a few minutes ago, Felix had thought the idea of going on a dog cafe date was the most ingenious romantic date idea you could’ve told him. He loved dogs, you loved dogs, and the two of you had each other; it seemed like the perfect date idea. Now, however, as he watches you coo over a particular white Japanese Spitz puppy, he feels conflicted. On the one hand, his heart could barely take the combined cuteness of you and puppies. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit jealous of all the puppies of the cafe that had your undivided attention.

As soon as the two of you had walked through the cafe doors, you were enamoured by all the four-legged bundles of joy prancing around. Out of excitement, you unconsciously squeezed Felix's hand–that you held securely in yours–and bounced on the balls of your feet. The movement has Felix turning his head away from the cashier to face you, thinking you were calling for his attention, and unknowingly you had captured all of it–his attention, his heart, everything. Giddiness looked so adorable on you; he loved seeing the sides of your eyes crinkle as your eyes smiled in genuine joy in unison with your mouth, he loved the uneven dimples–your right being marginally deeper than your left–that revealed themselves only in certain situations, and he loved the complete switch in your demeanour when you were faced with dogs.

Many people knew you as having a brazen personality, your sharp tongue leaving a strong first impression but he knew that's all it ever was–a first impression. Underneath your rugged exterior, you were the kind and caring type, unwavering loyalty towards those you loved, and a complete softie who just needed some loving. Felix was glad he was given the chance to be this intimate with you, he was honoured, and there weren't many occasions that you showed this side of you. Not to say that you felt uncomfortable with him, god no, it just wasn't in your everyday personality to be a total softie. But with dogs? The mere presence of any one of these fluffballs had your walls crumbling in an instant, giving Felix a glimpse deeper into the beautiful complexity that is you. He swore he fell for you all over again.

From that point onwards, it was all downwards for Felix–not in a bad way–but because falling's easy for him when it comes to you. His heart did a little thing, seeing your figure next to him all giddy and in child-like excitement. Then his heart did a big thing, seeing you attacked and surrounded by puppies and dogs of all sizes. Now? He was pretty sure his heart had stopped working after seeing you sat surrounded by dogs of all sizes, holding a pure white Spitz puppy and looking up at him with gleaming doe eyes. Ugh did you even know what you did to his heart? It was unfair.

"Lix!" Your voice calls out for his attention as if he wasn't already looking at you as if you were his whole universe, "Come look at this precious baby~" You coo at the little puppy you held in your hands, your fingers carefully stroking the soft white fur as you mumbled in a baby talk. He plops down next to you, the golden retriever he had been petting following him to you and lying down right beside him. As soon as he was settled, the golden reached out its paw and set it on Felix's knee, prompting the similarly golden-haired boy to continue petting.

You giggle at the pure sight in front of you, setting the Spitz puppy down on your lap as you lightly lean on Felix to reach the giant golden softie–the dog, not Felix. You lightly gasp at the feeling of soft fur, completely melting into Felix as your head rests on his shoulder. Your one hand softly rubbing the Spitz puppy's head, the other brushing the retriever's long coat, your fingers occasionally brushing Felix's as your head rested on his shoulder and now his rested on yours–this was heaven on Earth.

"I love this dog cafe date idea," you quietly whisper to Felix who hums in response. "Thank you for bringing me," you nuzzle your head and Felix lifts his head up so you can withdraw yours. You look up to meet his eyes with a soft smile on your face, getting lost for a moment in his warm gaze surrounded by the freckled constellations on his cheeks. You lean forward and rest your forehead on his, brushing your nose against his in an Eskimo kiss before giving him a short sweet peck on the lips.

Suddenly, a small resistance on your lap grabs your attention as the white Spitz puppy moves around in the midst of your petting. You and Felix watch as the cute dog hobbles from the bumpy terrain of your lap to Felix's thighs. Just as you thought you'd hit peak devastation from the cuteness overload in front of you, another dog approaches Felix, this time a white modern-cut poodle.

"Wow, Felix Lee since when were you a dogs' man?" You wiggle your eyebrows teasingly at your boyfriend, your lips stretched into a wide smile.

"What can I say," Felix's voice is a fruity deep that has a calming effect, "I'm just that likeable." He has a cocky smirk on his face as he spreads his arms out, welcoming all the dogs around him with lots of loving pats and rubs.

You chuckle and shake your hand in exasperation at his antics as you pull out your phone from your back pocket. Using your hands to stabilize yourself, you shuffle away from his side–the sudden distance has him pouting and silently begging you with his eyes to come back to him.

"No~" You giggle at his cute sulking face, pulling up the camera app and positioning yourself in front of him. "Pose for me, I'm taking pictures for your fans."

The mention of STAYS brings an immediate smile back on his face and he's quick to pose with the many dogs surrounding him. A couple shots are staged; like the one where he holds the white Spitz puppy up to his chest and looks into the camera with a soft expression making a picture that screams boyfriend vibes. Or the one where a corgi–who Felix had chased down while giggling and cooing at the way its butt moved–lays on its back in front of Felix who has a small smile on his face, both dog and your boyfriend looking up to the camera. Meanwhile, others were purely candid; your favourite being a picture of Felix holding the golden retriever's paw in his one hand, and the white poodle in his other. His sharp features are stretched into a gentle expression as he smiles down–showing teeth and all–at the golden retriever.

"Baby come back~" Felix's whiny voice reaches your ears from behind the camera as you looked at him through the phone screen, taking the last few photos of him. You make direct eye contact with him from the top of the phone and raise an eyebrow in question. "I wanna cuddle with you too~ Not just the dogs. I need to take pictures of you, then we also need to take pictures of us together." Your heart melts at the cute pout on his face and you give in with a sigh, putting your phone back in your pocket.

"Okay but I get the Spitz puppy," you bargain as you sit down next to Felix who doesn't waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and letting it comfortably sit there. With his remaining free hand, he easily scoops up the white puppy and drops it on your lap, loving your cute bright smile as you began showering the puppy with love.

The two of you spent the next hour or so like that; in each other's embrace–sometimes exchanging short kisses on the lips, teasing pecks on the necks, and ticklish whispers and breathy giggles in the ear–surrounded by dogs of all different breeds, different sizes as they approached and left you. Felix caught you up on everything going on with his group; from promotion preparations to silly member antics and pranks, and you filled him in on your college experiences; from the mundane to the hottest campus gossip. Of course, as promised, the two of you also took many pictures together with the dogs and Felix took twice as many of you. His favourite ones were of you with the tiny adorable Spitz puppy, god knows how many photos he had of the two of you he'd taken countless burst photos.

"Aren't you the cutest?" You coo at the white puppy that you held up to your face, nuzzling your nose with the dog's snout. "Yes you are, yes you are." The puppy lets out the cutest yawn at that moment, securing its place in every corner of your heart. Your heart melted and you pout as overflowing love and adoration wash through you. Beside you, Felix felt the same overwhelming emotions as he gazed fondly at you, thanking all the Gods for giving him such an amazing date idea.

"Felix," his eyes immediately meet yours which stare at him all puppy-like and paired with the cutest pout on your face. "Can we keep him?" You raise the white Japanese Spitz puppy up Lion King style, shoving the adorable little guy right in front of Felix's line of sight.

"Isn't there enough cuteness in the apartment with you living there?" Both the puppy and you blink up at him simultaneously and it takes everything in him not to wrap you up in a bear hug and make a big deal about it.

"Don't try and flatter your way out of this, Lix," the tone of your voice is adamant but the red tint on your cheeks gives everything away and Felix can't help but to adoringly smile at the sight of your flustered cheeks.

He leans forward and rests his chin on your shoulder, his signature pout making a return as he mumbles, "Aren't I enough for you?"

"You're a cat, Felix, you're very kitty like." Your hand goes to affectionately rub the top of his hair, your fingers smoothly slipping through the soft strands of his hair. He nuzzles into your hand and you smile to yourself before withdrawing your hand.

"This?" You lift the puppy up once again and it stares at the two of you with its round beady eyes, "This is a dog, and I want a dog."

Felix can only stare at you with a look of betrayal as he watches you baby talk the puppy once again, coddling and giving it all your love while leaving him in the dust. Maybe he was a little less thankful for this date idea now.

A/N: Can you guess which scene idea might reappear in Heaven’s Sin? 👀Lmk your guess! Lmk what you think about this fic! Talk to me <3

[qhostqizmo]

Temptation

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- - - - - - - - - -

She couldn’t fight it. It stirred in her dreams like a plume of smoke; dark clouds hazing over everything  and blotting out the interior of the residence she had been in. One second there had been cool stone and carpeting beneath her feet, with pillars to uphold the structure and doors that she knew lead to a garden, and the next she had been thrust in no-where. There was vertigo; no up or down, no east or west, no sense of direction and nothing below or above. Only gloom, and herself.

It had only been herself. As she tossed and turned; twisted and grasped at the nothing trying to get a grip on something, a figure began to materialize through the endless shadows. They were no taller then she, and their build slender. A hood obstructed their face, but they wore a brightly colored red lip stain against their grey freckled skin. A light haloed around them, but it was neither blinding nor particularly bright.

“What is it you desire?”

It was an echo; and although they moved their mouth, the words felt like they were vibrating all around Essätha; through her, inside of her. She clenched her teeth in hopes of stopping the rattle in her teeth, and clutched at her temples.

Her mind was instantly a playground; brutalized and vandalized. This had been nothing like Master Sadris Vodamire; who although caused much discomfort with his prying eyes, tore into her head like a rampant monster. It was like filthy hands groping; touching where they did not belong, taking without asking.

It searched, and as the violating sensation made Essie whimper and claw at her scalp, she observed glimpses of things and places, money and faces, people and animals.

“I could offer you a promise” the voice promised, velvety and sweet as any seductive mistress. “I can give you what you want most. In exchange, all I ask of you is to relinquish one small thing. That which is mine already, that you and your friends have in your possession.”

She didn’t have anything that didn’t belong to anyone else! Okay… that was not entirely true, but none of it belonged to anyone else for a while now.

Softly, the speaker compelled, “You must leave it beneath the roots of a Devil’s Roosewood tree. There I will find it.”

A beaded necklace appeared unwillingly to the forefront of her thoughts. Its pearl-like spheres were made of a pinkish-purple tinted wood. An amulet hung from it, presumably meant to be displayed upon the throat so far as jewelry went. It was made of an ambery-red metal no one recognized in the party; and was embezzled with gemstones. Adela recognized a few of them as decorative precious jewels, but others even alluded them.

What did the abandoned pendent they found lying in a creekbed have to do with any of this?

“That is none of your concern.”

Essätha struggled to open her eyes at the testiness of the voice to stare the individual down, but she no longer could. She could not will them to open, and the rampant path of strange and random photographic memories she didn’t even remember continued to invade her like a hurricane.

“Do you hunger for money? Mountains of it; as far as the eye could see?” the voice teased, offering visions of plentiful piles of coin and jewels, stacks of monetary notes and wages.

“Perhaps a lust for freedom?” A strange parallel; worlds and planes stacked on top of each other, easy to access at the touch of a finger.

“Or strength?” Tools and weapons; rings and tomes. “Glory?” Dozens upon dozens of people, crying out her name in the crowd, their faces written in expressions of awe and adoration. “A paradise to call your own?” A castle, expansive and fortified; surrounded by wildlife and trees, with the lapping sound water somewhere past the treeline.

“No?” chimed the voice; not waiting for an answer, but sounding… disappointed. “Immortality? To be human? No, not that, either. My, you are a tricky one. So complacent in your mundane life. You want things, but what are you hiding; what do you want more… what does your heart long for the most…”

Essie did not know if it was her own impulses, or the endless pursuit of answers that brought up the lonely figure, with their face turned only slightly towards her and the massive furry beast at their heels.

“Oho. What an interesting surprise. I thought different of you. Not many crave love as badly as they think they do; people tend to lean more selfishly to power and fortune then they believe themselves capable. But you crave that acceptance; that warm embrace, that spark that fills the empty, lonely voids inside your soul. You believe one man can make you that happy?”

The question was taunting; mocking her more then inquiring. It didn’t need an answer. No amount of true and honest love could ever fix all your mistakes, or unbreak you, or change you completely into someone new, or even lick all your wounds and make you perfect or change the world.

But it could change your world. Soften your negative outlooks; have a genuine conversation with someone, have someone reliable to lean on that could lean on you, too. It was intimate trust; going the extra mile, selflessly offering all that you had expecting nothing in return. Being vulnerable to another and knowing they would do everything in their power not to hurt you; that they would try to catch you when you fell, and pick you up when it can’t be helped. A bond of acceptance, of respect, of teamwork.

Loving Amon was worth more then all the bounties and rewards they could be offered. It was freedom; as open as the sky was vast. It was the strength she found inside every day. It was the fame of those moments when he stopped and stared at her, and so quietly said her name that she felt like the only person in the room. It was his arms around her; feeling of home and protective shield from every wounded word she’d ever heard. It rendered the idea of immortality obsolete. She felt eternal under the blanket of his heavy-lidded eyes.

Like a leech to blood, the figure offered a Cheshire grin Essie could not see. She had found her jackpot; her vulnerable weak spot to strike.

“Yours is not the easiest, but not the most difficult wish to achieve,” the lady hummed. “I can give you his heart. He can be yours, until your dying day.”

A fantasy played out beneath her eyelids, but it was one she’d had before. The table, their interwoven fingers, the sound of his faint chuckling and the soft impression of his mouth against her, wherever his lips could reach. Her throat, her cheeks, her lips so light and warm. She was almost dizzy, imagining it; the breathlessness from such a lingering kiss.

But then he pulled away, and the vision was not totally how she recalled it. The almost mechanical shape of his smile, like it did not belong there; painted on crudely, rather. The vacancy of his eyes.

Her hand went to her throat. She grasped at something hanging there, finding a heart-shaped locket hanging around her neck. Clicking it open, she could make out the strangely pulsating, beating shape within it as she squinted…

She did not want that. Her thoughts cringed, warding the nightmare away.

That was not her Lord Amon, and that was not the kind of love she desired.

“Is this not what you want?” the voice implied with a snappy tone, “is this man not the one you yearn for?”

Not like this. Never like this. He was not her m’lord; he was her puppet.

“Think of it,” the voice pressed, almost endearing. Shaming her almost, it cut the fantasy in two; blurring it out to reveal the dreaded future she feared. The solitary, winding roads. The isolated bedroom. The restless nights, tossing and turning. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to be. Nothing to do. No one to put faith in; to put faith in her, to push her forward. Alone, again.

She sucked in a shaky gasp, choking. It felt like first breath she’d taken in minutes, and she was choking.

The lipstick curled up into a twisted smile as Essätha found herself able to open her eyes, the dream melting and fading all around her…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spine stiff and rigid, Sulhadur leaned forward, running his tongue over his muzzle. “… What did she offer you guys?”

Everyone avoided each other’s gazes. Penimra shifted uncomfortably, breaking the silence with a ragged cough, “Everything.”

“I did not know I even wanted some of the things they offered,” Pri’cha agreed, their expression mystified and mandibles parted.

“I had never seen the Drow before,” Adela whispered, leaning in to the table. “I think she was a Drow, anyway? Did any of you get a good look at her?”

“No, her hood was always up,” Rava stated.

Abe nodded. “Same for me.”

Essie kept her head down, and her mouth shut. Silence was safer.

“Well we can’t give her back the necklace; obviously it has some sort of value, and to a demigod of that sort of power…” Abe trailed off weakly.

Conflicted, Penimra offered out his trembling gloved hand. “Can’t we, though? We don’t know what it can do. It’s not our responsibility. Maybe she will reward all of us, if we put it back-”

“Penimra, that sort of trust is what got you cursed in the first place,” Adela commented tartly. She immediately seemed to realize her commentary, and slapped a hand over her open mouth as the warlock recoiled as though from a physical blow.

“Pen, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t.”

“I mean, she did make some good offers,” the cheeky wood-elf piped up, staring fixated at the necklace sitting in the middle of the round table. Her hand twitched, as though to reach for it.

The eldest paladin give her a firm but swift tap on the hand, glowering at her until she sat back, pouting.

“This isn’t up for debate!”

“You’re right, Pri’cha found it. They should get to decide what we do with it,” Pen eagerly stated, looking hopefully to the golden cleric.

“M-Me?”

“… We can’ trust them,” Sulhadur muttered, scratching his claws against his snout.

“This coming from the dragonborn who wanders randomly off into the woods, trusting the melody of some random desert music,” Penimra muttered with annoyance.

With vigor, the nobleman slammed down his fist. The action silence the entire table; turning towards the man with his clenched teeth bared like an animal.

“Stop arguing, all of you!” Amon grated out.

The exchange of glances across the table made the Briarton Protector deflate. Fear lit his eyes, and it took everything Essie had not to reach out and touch him, or take hold of his hand. As quickly as the rage had filled him, it seemed to disperse, but it left it’s lingering effects. The guilt in his shoulders; heavy. The stares that haunted him, past and present.

“… Before we make any rash decisions,” he continued on hoarsely, “like handing off this- this necklace that may have some potent abilities we’re not aware of, we need to know who this is, what this does, and why they want it so badly. Deities, or powerful beings, do not usually reach out to request things from mortals or their lessers. If it’s a test, I do not see why they would have a reason to act so…”

“Shifty?”

“A kinder way of putting it… yes,” he agreed, nodding solemnly to Abernathy’s words.

Nervously licking her lips, Ravamora eyed the amulet. “What do we do with it, for now?” she squeaked. “Who can be trusted to hold on to it?”

A few looks around the table, and most pairs of eyes settled on the Thri-Kreen, their curled antenna shooting up.

“M-Me?”

“You did find the pendent, Pri,” Essie whispered faintly.

“And you’re the one least likely to be swayed… Probably,” Sul pointed out.

Steadily looking around the group, the cleric clutched their claws together into little fists. They raised them up high and proud, announcing with vigor, “I will not let you all down!”

The Yuan-Ti sorceress glanced vaguely towards the amulet. For half-a-second, her clouded thoughts believed to see the disturbing locked, with the beating shrunken heart trapped inside it.

Swallowing, she looked down at the table.

Whatever the cost, it wasn’t worth it. Losing his very personality; the essence of who he was just for her to call him hers, it wasn’t worth the price. There was no value to be placed on who he was; as a man, and a friend, and a trusted companion.

If this is all there ever was, until they parted ways, so be it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rolling her denim pants up to fit within her bag, Essie could hear the heavy pacing of Amon’s boots, and the elevated sound of his breathing. She tried not to point it out, but Caesar seemed to be doing a fine enough job of that as it was. The mastiff trotted after him; claws clicking against the wood floors, and whined every chance he got up towards his master.

Tucking in a carefully folded shirt, she finally spoke up quietly, “Is everything alright, m’lord Amon?”

He grunted. She turned to glance at him, catching him wiping a hand over his face. His eyes were wild, and black hair mused from his fingers running through it previously.

“Fine.”

A frown pulled at her lips. She knew him better then that.

“Is… this about what occurred at the table?” she offered, cautious.

The nobleman turned to look at her, dazed. There was little focus in his eyes.

Scooting around on the bed, she placed her hands in her lap, remaining cross-legged. Essie offered a private smile, tilting her head to the side as she whispered patiently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

His throat jumped, and he looked away. “I… uh…”

Gently, she patted the bed. He obediently obeyed the implication, taking a seat on the opposite side stiffly. It reminded her so much of the images from last night, that she had to hold herself back from flinching away from him.

“It’s okay you got frustrated,” she soothed softly, reaching out to lay her hand atop his. “No one’s going to hold that against you. We’re all a bit… wound up. It’s a hard decision to make, when someone offers you your deepest desires right in front of you on a platter.”

His gaze was too intense, staring right into her. She felt her heartbeat quicken, and her palms start to grow sweaty. The ocean reeling her in; pulling her into the depths.

Again, he swallowed; his jaw working and shifting uneasily. Caesar, meanwhile, nosed his knee and whined; to which he didn’t respond to.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he finally uttered quietly. She beamed with encouragement, wrapping her fingers around his hand. “I forgive you. You’re allowed to feel your emotions, m’lord. I know you had no intentions on hurting anyone’s feelings. You’re understandably frustrated. I think nothing less of you. Maybe… we all needed a voice of reason to cut through the haze in that moment, anyway.”

Amon smiled thin, and with doubt.

Essätha did not move for some time. When he did not reply, she nervously began to remove her hand from him.

He instinctively reached for her; a flash of pain in his expression.

“I- I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be,” he breathed. Relief bloomed in his eyes, still locked on hers, as he held her fingers in his now. Almost regrettably, he regarded their hands, and gently placed hers back down upon the bed.

“I’m sorry I should… I should not make you feel like you have to comfort me.”

Her brow knit, and she reached for his hand. “Have to?” she echoed, “I don’t feel like I have to. I don’t have to do anything; but I like to. I like to hold your hand, and I like to make you smile.”

Together, their faces simultaneously took on a rosy glow. Amon looked away nervously just as she did. The eye contact was suddenly too much.

The inquiry nagging at the back of her head, however, continued to pester her…

“M’lord,” she murmured, clutching his digits anxiously. “I…” She swallowed, acutely aware that his gaze was back on her again; burning her. Her face felt hotter. The room felt deathly quiet, and she found it difficult to breathe. The only sound her ears picked up on aside from her heartbeat, was that of Caesar’s tail thumping eagerly against the floor, staring at them both.

“Are you alright, Essie?”

Gods, she hated how she adored the way he said her name. The way he spoke to her; concerned and tender and patient, made her insides feel like they were twisted into pretzels.

Sighing, she shook her head weakly. “No I…” She nibbled her lower lip; exhaled deeply, and tried again: “I thought I knew what I wanted most of all in my life, once. Like Penimra said; she offered me everything; the world at my fingertips, to bend and morph however I pleased, to be whoever or whatever I pleased… She said I could have had anything; given me my deepest desires…”

Her eyes drifted, slowly making their way to where their hands were on the comforter; clutching each other.

“… But all I really wanted was this moment.”

“… This moment?” Amon parroted softly. When she did not reply, he squeezed her fingers gently. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry I-” flustered, she caught a glimpse of his face; vulnerable, soft, longing, and glanced away timidly, waving her free hand in the air. “I just- I mean- I only wanted your time,” she stressed, “I- I just wanted- want to s-spend my time with you to- to have your company-”

Fidgeting, she pulled at her hand, but Amon held her strong, but gentle. He waited for her eyes to find their way back to his.

“… You don’t think I want the same thing?” he whispered, grinning shyly. “I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

Essätha returned the smile, her pulse escalating. All she craved for, all she wanted to do right now was to throw herself into his arms. The block between her mouth and her heart was her brain, carelessly telling her that telling him the truth would be too much.

She promised me you, she wanted to scream. The enchantress witchy deity being offered me your heart, and your love. I know you’ll think I’m insane, but gods, I want to love you and be loved by you more then anything else in the world.

But not like that. Not that perverse, demented and warped reality.

The genuine warmth of his eyes, and the smile he wore now, that was her wanting.

“I wish she’d been right, about one thing.”

The hurt expression returned. “Right about what?”

If it could only be possible to capture his heart, in the right way. Slowly, with time, and with a lot of love.  If only she could just be a little be braver, to tell him openly, how she felt.

“Oh just- about having more manageable desires,” Essie fretted with a short laugh. “Something attainable, within my reach.”

Between a mixture of confusion and amusement, the nobleman rasped playfully, “I thought you just said that all you really wanted was this moment.”

“It is! I do!” she burst out enthusiastically, holding his hand tightly, as though reluctant he’d pull away.

The same, brilliant smile; warm and enlightening. He leaned in closer unconsciously, closer towards her. The scent of pine trees and leather surrounded her, with a faded note of rosewater. Her eyes, unconsciously, darted all over him; to his chest, his mouth, back up to his all-consuming gaze.

She was the center of the universe once more, beneath his softly aglow night-sky regard.

“Me too,” Amon whispered, as though telling a secret.

She grinned brighter, feeling the butterfly-sensation swarming in her stomach.

Gradually, his gaze lowered; moving over her features, stalling. His eyes lingered a moment on her parted lips before jumping back to her eyes. They’d moved in closer, unintentionally, drawn in by gravity.

His voice trembled as he inclined closer still, murmuring, “You are far more beautiful here, right in front of me, then in any mirage hallucination she showed.”

Breath hitching, her lashes fluttered, waiting for the magnetic pull to drag him the rest of the way. She leaned in a little further as he did, her free hand reaching for him.

A knock at the door sent them hurtling backwards away from each other, mere inches away from contact.

Her heart was still thunder in her ears, muffling Sulhadur’s voice as he called out, “Everyone’s packed and outside; do the two of you need a hand still?”

“No- ahem, no, we’ll be out shortly!”

“I’ll carry some of your things for you.”

Cheeks burning, she glanced at Amon after hearing the break in his voice. He was looking to his faithful pooch, who huffed and laid their head upon his knee.

Had… had he just admitted to seeing her, in some of those fantasy-visions from the strange dream intruder?

Letting go of her hand, the nobleman silently pushed himself to his feet, heading towards the door with the mastiff trotting at his heels.

Essie pressed her fingers over her flush features, and her mouth. It was almost-had-been-too-close but was it really what she’d thought it had been? The moment charged with electricity, the softness of his eyes. Surely they hadn’t been that close. Maybe he’d been distracted by something, or had meant to… brush hair out of her face?

Removing her hand, she tried not to pout; or directly allow the Dragonborn paladin to see just how deeply blushing she still was as he entered.

There was absolutely, positively no way on earth his deepest desire could possibly be of her, too.

Right?

[katzuyas]

so here it is, my friends, the collab with the amazing @ichiiichka for @viktuurifluffbang! make sure to check out the fic AND the art, and spread the love! ❤️

He arrives in a barrage of rose petals that whip around the wings of the dragon that span overhead much like rose petals themselves: rounded and layered, and rose hued. Victor has to close his eyes and lift his arms to protect his face from the slashing attack of what's supposed to be a symbol of love, and almost falls on his butt when the ground trembles as the dragon lands heavily a little ways from him.

Only when the shaking stops and the blizzard of petals slows down to gentle caress against his skin, does he look up into an unfamiliar face: that of an adult Stoneheart Dragon, who looks at him like he's a far more curious thing than the new surroundings must be. Victor, a lover of all breeds, looks back without fear, since he knows that however imposing Aura dragons might look, they will never harm another being. There are dragons who could pose danger to humans even now when they have learned to live together, but Aura dragons are farthest of such disposition. They are sweet, loving and the most friendly of the dragons known to wizard folk. Even the Stoneheart, Ire, and Scorn dragons, whose names bring nothing but negative impressions, in truth are just as lovely as the rest of them.

So, content in his safety, Victor rakes his appreciative gaze over the beautiful snout of the dragon, before taking him in wholly: it's long, bent horns, the massive body touched by stonescale, and finally the short, supple tail, which languidly swings here and fro, bringing red with it wherever it lingers. It truly is a magnificent beast, Victor has to admit.

Amidst it all, though, one thing catches him off guard. The red of the fire pouches at the sides of the dragon's jaws and over its chest is so vivid that Victor needs to blink for a moment to get used to the colour. In fact, all the red on the dragon's body is that same vibrant red: possibly the red from the potions that the old wizard Mort accidentally fed to the first dragon of this kind. The colour is bright, almost blinding in a way, but the true beauty hides within those cheeks: red, flaming, so ready to burst with fire. They look like rubies under direct sunlight, and they're stunning.

Victor's hand itches to touch one of them, and he is sure they'll be warm. Hot even, maybe. Yet the glare of the dragon's eyes stays on him so attentively that he hesitates to move. Before he can decide on whether or not to approach it, he becomes distracted again. This time not by any dragon, which is unusual in and of itself, but by Katsuki Yuri, who effortlessly slides off the back of his Stoneheart and hops down the powerful leg all the way to the ground.

They should look silly and clumsy, those little hops he takes, but there is something in the way Katsuki Yuri moves that instantly captures Victor's attention. It demands it, in truth. And Victor, Victor gives it before he even truly knows it.

Now, Victor has never been too interested in people. He has long since preferred dragons over those of his own kind, but within seconds of catching a glimpse of Katsuki Yuri, he's unequivocally charmed by him. Even more so, when he finally sees the face of the man who seems to possess more grace in his body than the whole of Yubileyny put together – and oh, what a face it is!

"Hello," Katsuki Yuri says on an exhale that makes his cheeks delightfully puffy. There are rose petals in his dark hair, too, Victor takes notice, and his heart does as well: it trembles oddly in his chest as he stands there, mute. "My name is Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki. Mrs. Baranovskaya should be expecting us? We're here for a co-op breeding for this event?"

It is hard to look away from the lips that speak these words, but Victor does. And then he ends up staring again, because above them are those soft, plush cheeks touched by a blush from the harsh winds of the ride, and further above those – once Victor startles himself out of his reverence – are the loveliest eyes Victor has ever seen: brown and warm, and bewitching him with sweetness.

It's as he gets lost in them that Victor absolutely gives up all pretence of normalcy.

"Hello, Yuuri!" he greets with a smile, mindful to pronounce the name exactly the way Yuuri did.

Even if his heart is beating out of his chest at his own boldness, he reaches for Yuuri's hand and bows over it to leave a fleeting kiss to his knuckles. The blush that has been adoring Yuuri's face is far darker once Victor looks up and, truly, Victor can tell that his own face must also be stained with his excitement. But that, that matters little as long as he gets to bask in Yuuri's beauty.

"Welcome to Yubileyny! I'm Victor Nikiforov, and I've been tasked with guiding you around. We're delighted to have you here," Victor says. He peers over Yuuri at the Stoneheart dragon, to whom he nods as well. "Both of you."

"Thanks," Yuuri squeaks and pulls back his hand. Victor mourns the loss, but it seems that Yuuri hasn't taken any offence in his actions, when he asks: "If it's no trouble we would like to have a day to settle in before we start breeding. Raths has come a long way, so I think the odds will be against us if we try to force it when he's tired."

Victor nods eagerly, because isn't that just the perfect excuse for him to stay with Yuuri longer?

"Good thinking," he says. "How about I show you both to the habitat for... Raths, was it?  And then I will take you to the inn, so you can rest as well. Travelling on dragonback can't be too comfortable for such a long time."

"That would be nice. Thank you."  

Yuuri's voice is as pleasant to listen to as his face is to look at, and Victor wouldn't mind hearing more of it. Yuuri, however, doesn't seem too generous with his words. He falls silent after that, but that is more than alright. Victor suddenly has a lot to say, and so he fills the silence with endless chatter in hopes of eliciting another reply from Yuuri's sweet lips.

"Your Stoneheart looks really impressive. Lilia really knows how to choose the best, I'll give her that." He smiles when Yuuri's face scrunches up like he wants to protest. "Don't be modest. You can't deny your skill when they are as obvious as a level eight Stoneheart dragon in the first week of the event."

"It was just luck," Yuuri insists, battling a flush that Victor wishes he could capture and keep close to his heart forever.

"And don't they say that luck is a part of your skill set for this job?" Victor winks. "I know a great breeder when I see one, Yuuri. Trust me, if you can't trust yourself."

Yuuri says nothing to that, but the way his eyes flutter shut at the praise… oh.

Victor doesn't remember ever feeling this way. Something so strange has happened to him the moment he saw this man, he can't even explain it. It's impossible to put in words, and it's impossible to define in feelings either. It's just…

Victor has had his fair share of flings here and there, fleeting romances that never lasted longer than a few months. He knows the signs of attraction by now. This, however, is nothing like that at all. This, this feels like… oddly enough, this feels like he's smitten already, and it's ridiculous, no? They've only just met.

And yet, as Victor leads Yuuri down the pathways of the Aura island and rose petals float around them, he can tell that this meeting and the time they will spend together is special.

"We have a few habitats around here that can take Raths, but do you have any preference?" he asks, just to have something to talk about. "We can put him with other Auras, or we can put him alone, depending on how he behaves with other dragons."

"I think he'd like to be with others," Yuuri says, looking back at the dragon, who has been patiently padding behind them. The small, fond smile that lights up Yuuri's face renders Victor absolutely awed. "We are quite unlike each other in that department."

"Ah," Victor clears his throat and offers a smile of his own. "Not a people's person, are you? I can relate. I'm much more a dragon's person, if you know what I mean."

Yuuri laughs, a sweet little sound that makes Victor's skin tingle all over.

"I do know what you mean, and I agree. Dragons are so much easier to be around."

Smiling, Victor looks at Yuuri, and finds his eyes already on him. Yuuri's cheeks colour at having been caught, but after briefly looking away, he turns his gaze back on Victor as if he is just as drawn to him as Victor has found himself charmed in return.

"I have a feeling we'll get along quite well, don't you think?" Victor says, heart full of this strange lightness that only warms over further when Yuuri offers a tiny: "I have a feeling you might be right."

And, truly, Victor doesn't know what is the name of the thing he feels, but he feels it anyway – and it's soft like the rose petals he brushes from Yuuri's hair with a dazzling smile.

read more on ao3

[ladytelos]

Carnival Games (James Griffin x Reader)

I love James so much but I don’t know his character very well T.T. I feel like this is the worst thing I’ve written but maybe I’m wrong. I hope you like it and I promise I tried. I’ve been writing this for a little over a week now trying to make it right. Please let me know what you think~

I guess SPOILERS but not really my guys. I’ll just put that here in case.

If there was one thing you could always bet on, it was James need to impress you. Ever since the two of you had started dating over two years ago he would find any and all opportunities to prove himself to you.

Was it because of some kind of deep seated insecurity? Maybe.

Was it kind of adorable to watch? Incredibly.

Did it get super annoying sometimes? Absolutely.

You would always tell him that he had no need to do these things to impress you, but it never seemed to stop him. You didn’t understand what he was trying to prove, he was the leader of the MFE fighters. One of the top students in the garrison, and one of the smartest people you knew. You were always incredibly proud of him.

And yet, if he was challenged to anything, even just arm wrestling match, in front of you he would immediately accept the challenge. Which had caused you to give him more than a few eye rolls.

So many others saw him as the serious pilot who had no room for nonsense. In reality he was a huge dork. But he was your dork.

Since leaving Earth these things seemed to die down quite a bit, which if you were to be honest, made you a little sad. It was cute seeing him work so hard to keep your good opinion.

That didn’t mean he didn’t still do a million cute things for you on the daily of course. Holding things for you, getting you your favorite drink in the morning and bringing it to your room as a wake up call.

Everything he did he was dedicated to, and your relationship was no exception.

When you heard that the crew was going to a celebration called Clear day on an alien planet, you were rather excited. It might have been the chance to spend time with James that you hadn’t gotten in a while.

When the Atlas landed you all went in a group with the other MFEs, Veronica and Axca. You were given a handful of coins each and told to go enjoy yourselves a little.

Walking amongst the aliens around you, you glanced at all the carnival games. It was almost weird how alike to Earth this was, despite being on a planet galaxies away.

“Its so weird to be so far away, and yet we’re literally at a carnival right now.” you glanced around, taking James hand as you continued between the rows of little tents full of stuffed animals.

“Aww James look, its so cute!” You walked over with him trailing behind you.

Your pointer finger paused in front of a strange creature plushy that had long droopy ears and a snout that kind of reminded you of an elephant.

James starred up into its beady, glass eyes and then looked down at the game that was needed to play for the plush.

It was a relatively simple dart game, all he'd have to do was pop some balloons. He smirked and looked over at you.

“do you want it babe? I'll get it for you if you want.”

“would you? It looks so cute~” you put your head on his shoulder and looked up at his face with a dopey smile. He laughed and walked to the alien manning the stand.

“excuse me sir, but I would like a round.” James pulled out the coins he had placed inside of his pocket. The alien asked for three coins, before handing James a few darts to toss at the board the balloons were tied to. You smiled as you watched him, his eyebrows slightly furrowed while he calculated his shot. It was adorable how concentrated he could get on the activities he set out to do.

James flicked his wrist quickly and fluidly, hitting the target exactly with a little ‘pop’ sound following. As expected he never missed a shot. When he made the fourth and final shot on the mark the shopkeeper congratulated him and asked what prize he wanted.

The proud smile he had on his face as he handed you the stuffed animal made your heart melt.

Hugging it close you laughed and pecked James on the cheek.

“Thank you for the stufty, darling.”

“But of course, anything for you.” He pulled you closer to him and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Watching as you smiled down at the prize, the cogs in his brain slowly turning.

“You know I could win you some more if you want.” He said, looking around at the stands nearest you.

“Oh no that’s alright babe, really. This one is cute enough for me.” You looked up into his face but he was still searching the stands. You could already see where this was headed to.

“Come on that game over there looks like a piece of cake. Is there a plushy you want from there.” James pulled on your hand as he pointed toward a stand a couple feet from where you both stood. It looked a lot like the milk jug games you saw on Earth. Three bottles were stacked on each other and you could see people throwing a little ball towards them.

“Well I mean, I don’t know. I guess there's some cute ones over there but…”You were cut off.

“Then I’ll get it for you, no big deal, just watch.” His proud nature was beginning to take over.Whether it was to prove how good he was at these games or how wonderful of a boyfriend he was for getting you all these prizes, you didn’t know.

Of course it took him nearly zero effort to win. The man's aim was impeccable. Reluctantly you pointed your finger towards another stuffed animal and the shop tenant handed it to you.

“There you go babe. Another one just for you.” James smiled as he stared at the two stuffed animals resting inside of your arms.

“Thank’s James but really I don’t need anymore…”

“Look! There’s another game over there. I’ll get you another one, just watch.”  

“Eheh.” You gave out a little sigh as you watched him walk to the next stand, and the next, and then another one after that.

He played game after game, somehow getting his hands on even more coins than he had started with. Until soon enough you were stuck with a mountain of stuffed animals you could hardly hold. You weren’t even sure where you would put all of these once you were back on the Atlas. If it hadn’t been for Axca who was nearby you wouldn’t have the ability to even get them there.

She took a handful of them from you since her own arms were empty, you thanked her for it and she just gave you a look of pity as you both watched James continue on.

While he was being really sweet, and you knew it was completely for you, you still felt exasperated by him. It wasn’t like it was uncommon for him to do these things. His need to prove something to you always ended in James going completely overboard. Like the time he did over two hundred push-ups just because some guy said you needed a real man. And while you hadn’t cared what the man said, James did and had to show you just how strong he was.

You sucked in a deep breath of air as he came back over to you with yet another plush in his hands. It was almost like he didn’t see the mountain you had piling up.

“Look babe there’s another just over there, lets go…”

“NO! James, Sweetheart, I have more stuffed animals than I know what to do with. No more games, please.” You pulled him back to you and he just started to blink. Looking you up and down he finally realized the situation you were in. There were so many things in your hands some of them were hanging on by a string caught between the others.

Quickly he walked over to relieve you of some of the extra items you were carrying because of him. He laughed and stared into your eyes.

“I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“A little.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, and rubbed the back of his head. You laughed at him as he did this, it was the same way he always apologizes when he went overboard. You couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have this man as your own.

“It's alright, it was kind of cute.” you smile pulling up close to him, the stuffed animals on the ground inside of a bag you had been given.

“You think so? Well that's good.” He puts his arms around your waist and hugs you. You stare up at him before going on to your tiptoes to give him a small peck on the lips. Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you pull away and smile again.

“ Thank you for tonight.”

He laughed, “no problem.”

[thehardy-boys]

Flu

Hi everyone! If anyones listening...Sorry it took so long, it’s been busy! Golden Globes tonight! How fun! People have been asking about Part2′s to Faithful and Which One? there both coming but I just want to finish up all the requests first before jumping into an old story. And as always thank you all for taking time and reading my writing!❤️

Request: Could you do an Alfie Solomons x Reader where the reader is sick with like the cold or flu and he takes care of her, please? Just something really cute and fluffy. Thank you~ c: 

Hope you enjoy!

"Alfie! Alfie!" You yelled loud enough to shake the small house the two of you shared in London.

Alfie was relaxing in bed reading the paper with his glasses perched on the very end of his nose and Cyril lying on his lap like a little puppy despite the size of him being a full grown dog.

The moment Alfie heard your screeching for him he shot up, throwing the paper to the side and waking Cyril up who awoke with a bark. Alfie grabbed his gun off the cream yellow bedside table and rushed to the bathroom.

He threw open the door to find you standing in front of the little round mirror that hung off the ocean blue walls in front of the sink. Your face was extended towards the mirror and you were inspected your skin like a detective inspecting a dead body. Full of disappointment.

"(Y/N)!”

"What!?" You asked suddenly realizing he was standing there.

"What you shouting about?" Alfie's voice now calm realizing there was no one trying to take you away from him.

"That your gun Alfie?" You asked with mild curiosity still staring at yourself in the mirror. 

"Well, thought you were being attacked didn't I love?" Alfie said placing the gun on the table right outside the bathroom door.

"What you shoutin' about?" Alfie asked again now walking into the small bathroom.

Alfie lent against the wall right next to the round mirror. Your hair was still wet and slowly dripping clear pristine droplets from your forehead and ends of your hair. The fluffy white towel was loosely tossed around your body.

Alfie marveled at the sight of your natural state. You looked like the perfect water goddess to him.

"Alfie," You said in a hushed worried tone.

"What?" Alfie reacted to your tone of voice by pushing off the wall and moving towards you slowly. 

"I think I've got the flu!" You shouted with so much sadness and contempt Alfie started to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" You asked finally breaking eye contact away from yourself to look over at Alfie.

"Why do you sound so sad, love?" He asked still with a smile on his face.

"Why do I- The flu is one of the worst things to get right before Christmas Alfie! And Hannukah too!" You added hurriedly when you saw a certain look flash onto Alfie's face.

"How do you even know you have the flu?" Alfie asked in a tone a mother would approach a scared child in. 

You rolled your eyes and went back to looking at the mirror.

"Look at the bags under my eyes, and my pale skin, my nose is beginning to run, and I've got that feverish feeling as well." You said all this sounding frantic.

"(Y/N), love, darling, if you're getting the flu, all you have to do, right, is get in bed with a good book and relax. I'll get you some tea and chicken soup and we'll take the day off, okay?" Alfie said this while slowly moving towards you as if you had a bomb that you were debating about whether or not to set it off.

"Aflie, I can't take the day off!" You said, shocked at the man's suggestion.

"Why not?" 

"I've got work to do, places to be, people to meet." The look on your face was desperate.

Alfie scoffed, "Love, it's probably just a little cold, take today off and tomorrow you'll be all better, giver your self a break."

"No, no, no, Alfie, I've got too much to do." You brushed past him into the bedroom the two of you shared. You hurriedly looked around for your work clothes. You shuddered as you dropped your towel to put on your dress. 

"Your shivering, love, you need to go to bed, okay? Just relax I'll pop by the office and tell 'em you're not coming in."

You shook your head, "No, Alfie I've got too many important imports coming into the dock, all the paperwork must be filled out beforehand." 

You feverishly laced up your boots and threw your coat on you rushed over to give Cyril a kiss on the head. You rushed down the stairs grabbing your bag. You had just opened the door when you stopped you opened your bag and fished around in it for a good three minutes.  

"Fuck," You mumbled to yourself.

You ran back inside and began your search. You threw apart the front room feverishly. As you were hurriedly ripping through papers you heard Alfie's heavy lumbering steps descending the stairs.

"Thought you'd gone to work, love?" You heard him say with amusement evident in his tone.

"Don't know where the damn form papers are." You said not turning around. "You checked the kitchen table? Saw you working in there last night."

You immediately ran through the door to your left and started to sort through all the papers that littered the small light brown kitchen table. 

You gave an enthusiastic whoop for joy and ran back through to the front room.

"You find them, love?" Alfie said with a hopeful look on his sweet bearded face.

"I did darlin', thanks." You rushed past him into the hallway that led out to your front door but double back leaning up for a kiss, just as he was leaning down as well you pulled away.

You saw a small pout grace his lips.

"I've got the flu." You said and rushed back out the door.

"Think!" He yelled at you. "You think you've got the flu!" 

It has been a long day. A very long day. Your nose had run all day meaning you had gone through boxes and boxes of tissues. You had come home late at night and gone straight to bed. 

You curled up even closer to Alfie's warm body, and he had gratefully opened his arms so you could move even closer to him. He gently kissed your forehead and mumbled, "How was your day?"

"Tiring." You whispered back into his chest. "Yours?"

"Tiring." He whispered.’

You nuzzled your face even closer to his chest and the two of you peacefully drifted off. 

Alfie awoke to a loud noise. He slowly opened his eyes and realized that the warmth of your body was no longer beside him. He immediately shot up searching for you.

Another loud sound occurred over in the right-hand corner of the room. And there you were huddled in the corner sneezing your brains out. You were smushed in a chair that was surrounded by billions of crumpled tissues. Cyril was laying at your feet periodically looking up at you with a worried expression everytime you sneezed. 

"What you doing over there love?" Alfie asked softly getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed to get a better look at you. He had to squint a bit because the sun was just beginning to come up.

"Sick." You replied in a hoarse voice. "Didn't want to wake you up."

Alfie sighed heavily and bent his head down looking at his feet. He stayed like that for a few moments.

"Love," He started, raising his head up to meet your pale, tired face. 

"You don't have to worry about waking me up, right? I'm meant to be here for yeh. Now, let's get you into bed, I'll run down and get a few extra quilts so you're nice and warm."

Before you could protest Alfie lumbered over to you, picked you up and gently carried you over to the bed and delicately laid you down. You immediately relaxed at the warmth that radiated off the bed sheets. 

Because of the darkness, you could only hear Alfie and Cyril leave the room and quietly walk down the stairs. They were gone for quite some time. When you heard both there footsteps approaching you squinted as much as you could. You saw Alfie laden with multiple blankets over his shoulder. In his right hand there was a mug of hot tea and in his left hand was a plate of chocolate biscuits. 

You glanced down and saw Cyril holding your favorite book gently in between his teeth. 

When you saw the sight before you, you couldn't help but laugh. But soon that laugh turned into a coffing fit and a few sneezes. 

Alfie gave you a sympathetic look and carefully handed you the mug of tea which your gratefully gripped in between your hands, allowing it to warm you up.

Alfie then placed the chocolate biscuits down on the mattress right next to you, making it easy for you to reach them. Next came the load of blankets that he draped all over you. The warmth washed over you immediately. 

He finally lay down next to you and beckoned Cyril and the dog happily jumped up and dropped the book directly into your lap. He then curled up right in between the both of you and began snoring softly.You affectionately caressed his snout and scratched his ears.

"Thank you, Alfie, your absolutely perfect." You hoarsely whispered to him. 

He made a soft noise as he pulled the covers up over him and relaxed back down on the lavender colored pillows the two of you picked out together because you both absolutely adored the color purple.

"Wake me up if you need anything else." He mumbled into the soft pillow. The two of you stayed like this for a long time. You taking slow sips of your lovely warm tea and lazily reading your book. Alfie continued to soothingly sleep next to you. Cyril nuzzled his head further into the side of your body and made soft noises, probably dreaming about chasing a rabbit. 

It was silent for a long time before a low voice cut into your peace.

"Fuckin' told you so." His voice rumbled with amusement.

"You dick! You did not tell me so!" You retorted back looking over at the man who still was in the exact same position with his eyes peacefully closed. 

"Yes I did, I said (Y/N) you got a cold, the best thing to do is take a day off and what did you do, you ran off to work and now look at you, you've got a cold!" Alfie said all this with the smuggest expression on his face handsome bearded face.

Knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it,  you carefully thought of a way to not having to tell him he was right. 

"Couldn't hear that love, ears are blocked up." Your voice drenched in a fake sweetness that Alfie knew all too well.

"If you say so love," He said with a sly smile, eyes still closed, "If you say so."