#the most beautiful scruff i've ever seen

[andy-clutterbuck]

IGN 2018

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Let's Get Out Of Here

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You've met your Dad's best friend before.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: This one was so difficult.

Warnings: Implied sexy times, Reader has a sort of family backstory, Reader's Dad had Reader very young, Reader has a good relationship with their Dad, Jake being a flirt, swearing, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 776

“And this is Jake.” 

Your smile freezes on your face as your Dad gestures to his aforementioned best friend. If it wasn’t for the grounding warmth of his hand on your arm you were sure you would have had an out of body experience. 

Him. 

Oh fuck.

How could it be him?

“Nice to finally meet you Jake.” You nod and shake his hand when he holds his out to you.

“Likewise.” His own smile is polite, tailored to a mask of neutrality that you can see through. He’s shitting himself just as much as you are. 

Your Dad laughs, thankfully oblivious to the sudden tension in air. “I’m glad you two could finally meet.” 

If it wasn’t for social norms you’d turn on your heels and just march right out of there. Maybe you could hide somewhere in the crowd. 

Your Father and Step-Mother were renewing their vows, and were throwing an ‘engagement’ party of sorts. 

They’d long ago moved out of the town you’d grown up in, as had you and sadly your new home was further away from them than you’d have liked. So you didn’t get to see them in person as much as you wanted to. 

Jake had met your Dad about four years ago, the two becoming fast friends. From what your Dad had told you Jake travelled a lot, but when they did meet up they always got on like a house on fire. He was, as well, a little camera shy. Covering his face or ducking out of the way in group photos, so the most you’d ever seen of him was the arm of his leather jacket, a blurred cap, or the scruff of curls poking just into frame. 

It had become a running joke that this ‘Jake’ was either imaginary, or a spy.

Your Dad had had you young, an accident that he always called ‘his greatest achievement’. Despite his youth and the barely sixteen years between you, he had been and was a wonderful father. 

Someone calls your Dad’s name and he excuses himself quickly, darting off before you even have a chance to protest. 

You look after him forlornly, your shoulders slumping. 

Maybe running away wasn’t such a break of social norms. 

“Hi.” Jake says softly, having taken a step closer. 

You turn back to him. He’s shoved his hands in his pocket, looking down before giving you an uncertain smile.

You return the gesture. 

“I’m so sorry-” You blurt out.

“I didn’t know you-” He starts at the same time.

You both laugh. 

“What are the odds?” He says with a shrug. 

“Well, I guess a fondness for you runs in the family?” 

Jake pulls a face and you laugh. 

“Don’t say that.” He grins. 

You try and fail to hide your smile. “Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “Maybe… if I’d told you my name?” 

“Well,” you shift your weight, relaxing a little. “I didn’t tell you mine either.”

“We were a little preoccupied.” 

“Hmm.” You nod and close your eyes for a second to let the wave of embarrassment pass. “The first time yeah… but I think by the sixth we probably should have.” 

He laughs again. It’s a musical sound, deep and rich. Calming in its certainty. “What did you save my number as?” 

Heat burns a little under your skin. “Pretty guy.” 

“Pretty guy?” His eyebrows raise, but not in upset, just surprise. 

“Yeah, well,” you pull a face. “You’re pretty and a guy, so…”

He puffs his chest out a little, leaning a fraction closer. “You think I’m pretty.” He teases. 

You give him a sincere look. “I think you’re beautiful.” 

The honesty gives him pause for just a beat before he quickly recovers. “Says you.” 

“Says me?” 

“Yeah, says you. You’re stunning.” He lightly touches your forearm, his fingertips just ghosting over your skin.

You swallow, trying not to get lost in his eyes. “Shut up. What do you have me saved as then?” 

He grins, not breaking eye contact for a moment before he pulls out his phone and shows you your contact information. There’s a single red heart emoji listed as your name. 

“I didn’t take you as a romantic.” You tease.

He chuckles, leaning close and whispering in your ear. “Haven’t been treating you right then, have I?” He softly brushes the tip of his nose along your ear and you shiver. “Let me show you just how romantic I can be?” 

He leans back just enough for you to see his expression, the question in his dark eyes as he nods his head towards the venue doors. 

You grin. “Let’s get out of here.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 4 Match 4

propaganda below the cut! (massive wall of text warning)

Miki Berenyi:

"shes the most beautiful woman i have ever seen. her hair is amazing and she's just gorgeous idk what else to say or how to fathom her beauty"

"I met miki berenyi a few weeks ago and shes the coolest and nicest person I've ever met so down to earth and nice and lovely which imo makes her incredibly hot"

"Founding mother of Shoegaze"

"I want to hold miki so tenderly and tell her jokes that make her laugh like we’re childhood friends and have a sleepover where we do each others makeup and then fuck so nasty the neighbors get alarmed and debate with each other whether or not to call the cops"

Brian Molko:

"Gender"

"IM GOING TO EAT HER. He is soooo beautiful and freakish and small and weird and girlfriend and tiny like a little princess bug fairy. Literally gorgeous she has to win"

"When he flipped over the table with the little limp wrist.... someone find the video"

"1998 woman of the year"

"Brian Molko is peak gender envy, gender bending and being yourself without caring about other people's opinion, on top of all that he is a great guitarist that writes amazing songs"

"Brian’s gonna win this. I think we all kinda know that."

"Tumblrinas would be nothing without Brian molko"

"Kills her kills her kills her kills her kills her kills him kills her. He's my everything <3"

"He came 10th in the list of hottest women sometimes in the 90s. Gender goals."

"No one in the world can sound so nasal and look so angelic....."

"don't you wish you had his gender"

"Single-handedly took my gender by the scruff of the neck and threw it in a washing machine at full speed. He talked about not expecting to "get away with" passing as a woman to the degree that he did when he started purposely presenting feminine. He talked about the importance to fuck with people's heads through his appearance and behaviour, the importance of ambiguity. About how being in the band allowed him to do stuff he couldn't have done otherwise, to exaggerate some of his traits. He had the fuck ass bob makeup nail polish dresses stuff down, but not in an overly sophisticated way, especially in the early career 90s days the vibe was more shabby punk rock chick. Also he fantasized about being in an all-girl band called Skirt and playing guitar and singing backing vocals in drag. According to a 1997 melody maker interview bandmate steve hewitt called him "the most confused woman he's ever known". And if you go down that rabbit hole there's just more of this. Lots of material to focus on if you like genderweird bisexual unclean libertines (song ref) who will just say Anything in interviews. It's fun."

"I've drawn him as saints and martyrs such as saint sebastian and joan of arc. Or all bloody lying in a wet alley after being thrown out of a club. Or unconscious on a snowy road. Or dying in a glue trap. Or shocked after seeing a dead body. Also as a nun and as rose mcgowan in the doom generation. This is because I'm normal."

"She's a sick little angel faced freak. My theythem girlboy queen. He reminds me of an ant. He's like 5 foot 4 or something. My goth girl boyfriend. <3"

[fandomssaremysoul]

I have decided to make a MHA, Izuku Midoriya centric, fanfiction 101 recommendations, list.

I am but a basic bitch of nerds, but I have opinions and I WILL share them bc I'm incapable of shutting the fuck up.

Anyway this is a list of fic I think any person who reads fanfiction, is a BNHA fan and likes Izuku Midoriya, should read.

(is it actually an excuse to find ppl who like the same shit i do? Maybe.)

So, this list will contain fics that are completed ONLY.

There are a lot of MHA staples that aren't finished yet, and they will get a post of their own.

🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

Alright disclaimers, PSA, whatever, ALWAYS and I fuckin mean ALWAYS, read the tags and trigger warnings bc I won't lie, some might get a bit dark.

🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

1. Complicated Creation - Elemental

Easily one of the best fics I've ever read. Great world building based on the Ghibli movie Spirited away. We love to see it. The writing and plot are both breath-taking.

It has quirkless Izuku, spirits, dragons, healing and a sprinkle of a classic trope in the MHA fandom, Dadzawa.

2. Hero Class Civil Warfare - RogueDruid

If you have been in the fandom space for at least a couple of months and have been reading fics, you have, 100% heard of RogueDruid. He has, hands down, some of the most captivating work in the whole of the internet. One of the classics, is HCCW. It has inspired a lot of other fics, which had gone the class War route (hmu if u want reccs). Incredibly well done, the EFFORT that went into this had to be astounding. There isn't a single miss.

Without spoiling too much, the class 1 A and 1 B, have a final exam. The exam in this world, is a war between villain and heros. Izuku is put into the position of the leader of the villains, the Kingpin while his rival, the Paragon, is none other than Katsuki Bakugou. We get a mastermind Izuku, characters from 1 B, that I personally never cared much for, before reading this fic and more.

3. Mastermind: Strategist for Hire by Clouds

Staying in the villain Izuku waters, I present Mastermind. A part of a series called For the want of a nail, that follows different universes in which Izuku stays quirkless. Mastermind is a personal favourite. It's the second installment of the series and has an ongoing sequel. (The series includes Viridian: the green guide, Deku? I think he's some pro, Chet Code: support strategist and two more, which aren't completed yet).

Here, Izuku stays quirkless as he loses any hope left for the hero society. He, unfortunately for the world, is stupidly smart and easily gained a fearsome reputation, for being the best strategist for hire for villains. After realizing the world sucks and he, in fact, doesn't, Izuku becomes a villain the likes héroes have never seen before.

4. The Mystery of Student No.18 by cloud_nine_and_three_quarters

Another author, that has me by the scruff of my goddamm neck. Went for my throat every fuckin time. I will name the other fics later but lemme tell you about this one.

It's the second fic in the list, that has Izuku with OFA. This time though, Izuku stayed true to his self-sacrificing roots and got himself into a coma. While in his lovely sleeping beauty-esk state, OFA keeps giving him energy and thus an once of a lifetime opportunity to become a ghost. Yes you heard that right. He becomes a ghost and lightly haunts his class. The fic is golden, funny and just a little bit sad.

The other three fics, just as good as this one are Canary, Why are we here again? and Displacement.

5. Yesterday upon the stair by PitvViperOfDoom

Keeping with the ghost theme, we have the one and only YUTS. Again, world building is of the charts great. A great quirk and awesome themes with unexpected turns and plots. The gist is, Izuku can see ghosts. This story is one of the rare ones where Nana Shimura (my beloved) plays a bigger role than usual. Definitely chdck out the additional parts of the series though at that point it goes slightly into more crack waters but it's still incredible.

6. [Content] by Teobot

Taking a sharp turn into morally grey vigilante route, we get this great first part of an incredible ongoing series. There are two parts done and the wait is always worth it.

7. Assignment: Personality Swap by BelleAmant

First I wanted to recc their vigilante Izuku fic (Vigil, Ante and their vigilante antics) but I must admit, while a classic, it hasn't been as impactful to the fandom as Personality Swap has been. Both with its incredible humor, bit of angst and quirk fuckery the whole series has been nothing but hits.

8. Another form of power by Jade_Tatsu

Veering directly back into villain Izuku, this one was a breath of fresh air. I once got tired of villain Izuku that was either forced to be a villain or was just a vigilante but darker, so I went on a search and found this. The series All for power, is a 4 part ENTIRELY COMPLETED series, about politician villain Izuku. The first part is told mostly through the eyes of Kurogiri and I swear, it's my favorite of the all.

9. How Seven (7) Dead Heroes Stopped Being Bored by ScottishSunshine

Crack inspired, but more All for one focused that Izuku, but still most things happen because of the Midoriya family so it counts. It's good and fun and an interesting read especially of you're fond of Dad for one.

10. Prodigal by writerllofllworlds

And for the end, let's get our hearts crushed just a little.

An angst filled suspected traitor AU. In my humble opinion, very few have ever truly succeeded in writing a traitor AU, nearly as good as this one. I like it in most part because Izuku goes through hell and back, and I just am like that. It's epic.

Was this list an exuse to talk about fics I like? Yes. But do i feel like everyone who like BNHA should read these?

Abso - fuckin-lutley

I consider it a crime if you don't. Also pls do add your own opinions and if you want more reccs, ask in the comments or dm me or whatever floats your boat Besties.

Kiki the nerd, signing off

[fallenclan]

Almost there. Russetflare wove nimbly through the Sky Pine's many branches, claws leaving the tiniest indents as she went. She wondered if, years later, those marks would still be there, remaining as proof that one brave FallenClan warrior had dared to climb so high.

Or perhaps the tree would heal, over time. Did trees heal? Juniperpaw would probably know the answer, but she wasn't here right now. Still catching up on her training, she hadn't wanted to get wrapped up in another one of Russetflare's harebrained schemes.

Once she had found a suitable branch, one so large it could reasonably fit four warriors, Russetflare stopped to catch her breath. She was so close now, her heart thrumming with excitement. She would do what surely no other FallenClan cat had done before.

With these thoughts, Russetflare found it especially jarring when Cinderstone landed next to her with a dull thud, claws scrambling for purchase. The she-cat was dangerously close to slipping, so Russetflare grabbed her scruff, hauling her onto a more stable part of the branch.

Still catching her breath, Cinderstone flattened her ears in defiance. Russetflare had noticed that as Cinderstone grew older, she became more and more aloof, and less willing to join Russetflare on her exploits. Yet she had agreed to this one, for reasons still unknown.

Eventually, Cinderstone muttered, "Ramstep got stuck. Ospreyswipe helped him out, but after that they decided to be done climbing."

"And you kept going?" Russetflare tilted her head, ears twitching.

"Yeah." Russetflare found Cinderstone's gaze disappointingly hard to read. Russetflare had always been so good at reading cats, but these days Cinderstone had become a closed book.

The Sky Pine's many needled branches were casting dappled shadows across Cinderstone's pelt, making it so that Russetflare had to lean closer to get a good look at the she-cat. Cinderstone had always been startlingly beautiful, but now, with the slightest hint of a scowl on her face, Russetflare found her even more charming.

She followed me, Russetflare couldn't help but think, selfishly.

"We should keep going, before the sun goes down. Unless you're scared?" Cinderstone drawled. Grinning, Russetflare shook her head.

"I don't think I've ever been scared in my entire life, Cinderstone."

...

This was possibly the most beautiful sunset Cinderstone had ever seen, not that she'd ever admit it. Sitting atop the Sky Pine, stray pine needles prickling at her pelt, Cinderstone felt content.

Russetflare had reached the top first, of course. Her climbing skills truly couldn't be matched. Still, Cinderstone had made it too, which was no small feat.

"We won't be able to climb down in the dark."

"'Course we can," Russetflare replied with far too much nonchalance.

Cinderstone rolled her eyes. "No, Russetflare. If we try, we'll both inevitably end up falling to our deaths. Or, I don't know, breaking every bone in our bodies."

Russetflare snorted, whiskers twitching with amusement. "And Ramstep says you aren't funny."

"I wasn't trying to be humorous."

"Well, I found it funny all the same," Russetflare chuckled, turning her gaze away from Cinderstone. After a few heartbeats, Cinderstone took the opportunity to rest her had against Russetflare's shoulder. Cinderstone wasn't quite sure why she did it. It just felt right.

Russetflare's heartbeat quickened, but she refused to move. She wasn't going to spoil this with any stupid remarks or careless gestures. She would remain perfectly still, for once in her life.

Eventually, once the sun was almost gone from view, the two warriors climbed a ways down, settling upon a branch they both deemed large enough to support their weight through the night.

Russetflare doubted either of them would be able to sleep through the night. Cinderstone was too wary, afraid of toppling to her demise, while Russetflare couldn't get that stupid, giddy thought out of her head: She followed me.

...

When they returned to camp nearly a day later, they were met with hysterics all around. Evidently, Ramstep and Ospreyswipe had returned to camp, and when Russetflare and Cinderstone didn't show up after a few hours, had admitted to Maplestar what the warriors had been up to.

All four of them would be forced to return to their apprentice duties for at least a moon.

Russetflare thought her newfound discovery was worth the cost.

-🐉 (russetcinder?? in this house??? yes apparently. randomly decided to ship them for giggles. if this proves wildly inaccurate in future moons, i suppose it can be an au!)

WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE??? i kind of love this ship now. one thing about me is that i am so easily swayed. i WILL be sending them on training patrols together btw

i love this fic also,,, you got their personalities perfect, your writing is amazing

[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up - September 2022

Dear Stranger by iero0 @iero0

The one thing more pointless than falling in love with an anonymous wizard over a correspondence is falling in love with Harry Potter when you’re Draco Malfoy. Rec Post

Day Shift on Diagon by prolix (shal) @prolix-

Auror Draco Malfoy has been relegated to patrol duty again. After a long shift, he stumbles upon a new coffee shop on Diagon Alley and finds himself being served coffee by none other than Harry Potter. Charmed, Draco can’t help but go back again and again in order to get a glimpse of what’s become of the wizarding world’s Golden Boy—and to get his weekly fix of caffeine, of course. But, as time passes, Potter’s mind seems to be occupied with more than just coffee… and it’s up to Draco to figure out what’s going on. Rec Post

Things Unknown but Longed for Still by Cassiara @cassiaratheslytherpuff

Harry feels trapped by the unwanted fame he received after the war. Everyone has an expectation of who he is before they meet him, and they all want a piece of the famous Harry Potter. Feeling unable to connect to anyone and imprisoned in the life of someone he doesn’t recognise as himself, Harry turns to Ron and Hermione who set him up on an anonymous dating site and helps him find a place to escape. Free from all the expectations placed on him Harry starts to heal, and the anonymous man he meets on the dating site shows him love might not be as impossible as he’d feared. Rec Post

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he’s here, and he won’t stop requesting books from the library where Harry works. Rec Post

Breaking The Line by kedavranox @kedavranox

Draco was a Dom for hire. Harry was his best client. But Harry disappeared and now Draco’s retired. Draco’s doing fine (he’s even attending parties!) but who should show up to the latest BDSM shindig, but Harry Potter himself? Can Draco play with his ex-client without breaking the line? Rec Post

Into the Light of the Dark Black Night by shanfawn16

Draco’s world is turned upside down after his sixth year at Hogwarts. Where will he go and who will he turn to now? Rec Post

Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by poppunkpadfoot  @deangirldyke

The customer standing in front of him is quite possibly the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen. Like, he looks like a model or something. He has long, black hair, flattened by water, and just the slightest amount of scruff on his face, and…

And a baby strapped to his chest.

Okay. Rec Post

The Long Defeat by Lomonaaeren

Harry thought that becoming a slave to the goblins was about the worst thing that could possibly happen, except the sinking of the wizarding economy that the goblins had threatened if he didn’t. Then Lucius Malfoy showed up and offered to buy him instead, and maybe that was the worst thing. Or maybe not—at least, not if the Malfoys are sincere in their efforts to help him fool the goblins. Rec Post

Tit for Tat by mintaminta  @mintawasalreadytaken

Our story picks up five years post-war. Harry’s ready to come out and leave the public life behind; Draco’s looking for quiet reintegration into magical society in London. Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood (faithwood)

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Most Arrogant and Loving of Men by Lomonaaeren

Harry knows very well that he’s showing the mask of the Savior to everyone around him—his friends, his lovers, his enemies—but he doesn’t know how to stop. The part of him that wants things to be different is selfish and greedy. He doesn’t see any way to express it and not have his life explode…until Draco Malfoy, of all people, realizes it’s there.

the complete idiot's guide to losing your entire mind by oknowkiss @oknowkiss

A primer, by Harry James Potter, age 34. Qualifications: lived experience.

OR: Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Being Resources representative, accidentally invents No Nut November.

Where I see things right by InnerLilith @innerlillith

When Harry finds himself unexpectedly pregnant after a one-off with Draco Malfoy, he knows he isn’t keeping it. But when actually getting the abortion turns out to be more complicated than Harry expected, he finds himself turning to Malfoy for help through the process. And that’s actually much less complicated than Harry expected.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡

This month (September) marked four years for me as a fic recc'er! ｡ﾟ✶ฺ.ヽ(´∀`)ﾉ.✶ฺﾟ｡

Thanks for sticking with me all this time!(๑•̑з•̑๑)੭ु⁾⁾ ༘♥

I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have!

Happy reading, y’all!

xoxo Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[elshells]

Happy Storyteller Saturday! I hope you’re having a good weekend😊

My question this week is a silly one: One of your characters is changed into an animal on the spot.

Who is it?

What animal?

How do the others react?

What would be the most inconvenient moment for it to happen?



Happy STS, Sam! It's been a pretty good week, and I hope the same for you 💕

I love this question! But I've gotta be honest, I have a serious answer and a joke answer.

The joke answer is that I want Max to change into a horse, but specifically during the scene where he and Sophia are attempting break out of the vigilante complex. I just love the mental image of Sophia fighting the Prophet while a horse just watches from a window. It's giving 'horse in a hospital' vibes and I'm here for it.

If I'm being serious, though, I would either choose Janus or Bellona, and they would both be cats. Janus would become a fluffy black kitten that no one could take seriously (not that anyone takes him seriously as is, but that's besides the point). Sophia would find this incredibly amusing, and she'd pick him up and carry him around by the scruff of his neck just to annoy him. Harley, Jade, and Max would be so confused and, knowing Janus, they'd be initially wary of him. But after awhile, they wouldn't be able to resist giving him scritches, which he would secretly enjoy. Bellona, on the other hand, would derive sooo much joy from seeing him in this state, and Janus would pretend to be cranky about it, except 1) I know he would love being a cat, and 2) he hasn't seen Bellona genuinely laugh or smile in a long time.

But if Bellona was the cat instead... I would picture her as a beautiful white cat, perfectly pristine with giant blue eyes. But she would be the meanest, angriest, and most feral cat you've ever seen. Basically, she would just be herself. Screeching, spitting mad and filled to the brim with murderous rage—no one is getting close to her without her drawing blood. Everyone else would be so conflicted, because on one hand, she's much less likely to kill anyone and seeing her like this is actually pretty funny, but on the other hand, those teeth and claws are still sharp, and no one's keen on getting mauled. So they would probably lock her in a room by herself and stay as far away as possible.

These scenarios are equally hilarious, and I accept them both. The vigilantes as cats is just so perfect because it's inconvenient for them in that occupation, but it's the optimal state for literally everyone else they know.

[bellakitse]

I've got the remedy

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

+

Derek gets sick with werewolf flu, and Stiles is left to watch over him. Their mutual crushes come to a head.

“Werewolf flu?”

Stiles Stilinski looks at his friend Lydia Martin dubiously as she stands in front of the stove, heating up soup. She’d called as he barely crossed back into the town lines – home on break from school, with an SOS text telling him to get his ass out to the Hale house. That wasn’t the surprising part, even being away at Berkeley didn’t stop the wolfy emergency-related texts. However, he could admit that their dear Alpha had a better handle on things these days, and he didn’t get too many ‘the world is coming to an end; we need your google-fu, Stiles’ call these days.

Not that Derek was willing to call his impressive skills ‘google-fu’ in the first place, no matter how much Stiles insists. Just because the big guy had mellowed out over the years doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a sourwolf.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, probably because she has explained twice, and he’s still not getting it. “Peter didn’t precisely tell us – “

“What?” he drags out sarcastically. “You mean Peter Hale was vague about something?”

Lydia shoots him another look, more annoyed than the last, and Stiles smiles delighted, riling her up is one of his favorite pastimes. “Yes, shocker,” she says, returning his tone. “And he didn’t call it werewolf flu, but that’s essentially what it is, and Derek has it.”

Stiles frowns, looking up at the kitchen ceiling like it’s going to open up and show him their Alpha. “Is he okay?”

Lydia rolls her eyes yet again, and Stiles is starting to worry for her eyesight if she continues this way. “Yes. He’s just more irritating, if that’s even possible. Werewolves barely ever get sick, so he’s handling it oh so gracefully,” she tells him. The aggravation in her voice makes him wince.

“Where is everyone?” he questions. He knows the pack arrived days ago, him being the last one to come back to town due to a late paper he had to hand in.

“Far away,” Lydia answers as she turns off the stove. “I called Deaton. He said that while rare, the werewolf flu is contagious to other werewolves, so I sent them away because I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with more supernatural whiny babies.”

Stiles snorts loudly at that. “Can’t Derek hear you right now?”

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “Like I care about the big bad wolf?” she asks, her mouth quirking upward when a growl vibrates through the house. Stiles shakes his head, amused. It’s times like this when he remembers why he was in love with her for so long.

“Okay, so why did you call me?” he asks, instantly regretting it when she gives him a bright smile. “No.”

“Stiles – “

He shakes his head quickly. “No, you just said he’s moodier than ever – “

“He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t drown in his own snot,” she says patiently, and the house shakes again with another growl.

“His betas – “ he tries over the huff Lydia lets out.

“Will get sick if they come near him,” she reminds him. “You really want to deal with a sick pack?”

Stiles lets out a sigh of his own as he reluctantly shakes his head. Scott alone used to be such a nightmare when he got sick before his wolfy transformation. “What about Allison?” he questions desperately.

Lydia looks at him like he’s stupid, and he knows why. Even years later, Allison and Derek aren’t particularly close. She’s pack because she’s Scott’s mate, but she’d probably just end up putting Derek out of his misery before bringing him tea with honey.

“You?” he questions in a last-ditch effort, knowing it useless by the way she looks at him.

“What exactly do you think I have been doing the last three days when I should have been studying, Stiles?”

“We’re on break,” he argues.

“You don’t win a Fields Medal by slacking off,” she shoots back with a flip of her hair. “Besides, I’m not Florence Nightingale.”

“And I am?” he asks. “What makes you think that leaving me with a sick and, per your words, grumpier Derek Hale is a good idea? I’m just going to annoy him more than usual, which I’m sure is not going to make him feel better faster.”

Lydia gives him a look that Stiles has come to know as her ‘Stiles, you’re such an idiot’ face. He’s used to it, but he’s not sure what he’s said right now to warrant it.

“What?” he questions when she continues to look at him like that.

Lydia rolls her eyes because it seems irritation is her default setting for the day and starts to make her way out of the kitchen into the living room to gather her jacket and purse. “The soup is ready. Make him drink plenty of water, and there are these herbs Deaton gave us. It’s already brewed. He has to drink that too. Word of warning, he says it tastes like death, so he’s going to pout about it. Make sure he drinks it in front of you. The first day the big baby poured it down the toilet.”

“Lydia, please,” he tries again as she puts her jacket on and heads for the door.

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

Proving that she can be even more unimpressed with him still, Lydia rolls her eyes in a way that makes it seem it’s with her whole body.

“I don’t have time for your panic, so let me lay it out for you,” she says, not waiting for him to speak. “You two talk over the phone all the time. When you and I talk, you end up talking about him, and you get stupidly excited about making him laugh. He softens around you like no one else. You like each other, Stiles, and while it’s amusing for the rest of us to watch this little mating dance of yours, it’s also tedious as hell. Now, Derek has been a pain in the ass the last few days, and I guarantee you that you being here will put him in a better mood. So, I repeat, go upstairs and take care of your man.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but nothing comes out as he tries to process the truth bomb Lydia just dropped on his head. Seemingly taking his silence as an answer, she smiles, pleased with the havoc she has just wreaked, and walks out of the house, leaving him alone with a sick werewolf.

“Right,” he says to himself after a moment, closing his mouth and the door. He heads back to the kitchen, working on autopilot as he serves the soup Lydia heated up, pouring some of the herb-tea Lydia mentioned that does indeed smell like death and some water, placing it all on a carrying tray. All the while, he thinks about Lydia’s comments and the truth behind them.

He and Derek do talk all the time, sometimes for hours, about nothing and everything. He does get a ridiculous amount of joy when he can make the man laugh, and he’d been looking forward to coming home and seeing him, hoping to see and hear that laugh in person. There’s also the undeniable fact that he’s had a crush on Derek since high school, something he thought he’d manage to hide pretty well, but if Lydia’s words were true, then maybe not so much.

He feels his face go hot at the idea that the pack might be aware of his feelings, or worse, Derek. Because even if by some chance he wasn’t aware of them before, there’s no way he’s lucky enough for Derek not to have heard Lydia now.

Every part of him is screaming at him to get back in his jeep and drive home where he could hide under his bed until it’s time to go back to school. Instead, he grabs the tray and starts to make his way up the renovated Hale house. He’s faced scarier things than his feelings since learning about the supernatural, and it’s not the first time he’s been interested in someone wildly out of his league.

It’s his M.O.

Besides, there’s no way he could actually leave a sick Derek alone to be miserable if he can make him feel better. Lord knows the guy has had enough misery in his life. With that in mind, he pushes the door to Derek’s room with his hip, ready to deal with whatever is inside.

What he isn’t ready for is how good Derek looks. Stiles hasn’t seen him in person in months since his last break, and he looks amazing. Leave it to Derek Hale to get some strange supernatural cold and still look like a GQ model.

Derek is sitting up on the bed, and except for an impressive bedhead and unusually flushed cheeks under his scruff, he looks as gorgeous as ever.

“Life is truly unfair,” he whispers to himself, getting a raised eyebrow in return.  “What? Of course you would look this good while sick,” he says with narrowed eyes. Frankly, he’s annoyed by just how beautiful Derek is sometimes. “Can’t be like us lesser mortals who look like death when we have the flu? Do you just have to show us up?”

Derek stares at him for another moment before giving him an impressive eye-roll of his hazel-green eyes. “Why are you the most ridiculous person I know?”

Stiles snorts. “That’s simply not true. You also know Scott,” he answers as he makes his way towards the bed, tray in hand, silently apologizing to his friend for the dig.

Derek’s lips twitch for a second before he schools his features, but Stiles still catches it and celebrates the win with an amused grin of his own. It softens a bit as he sits down on the side of the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table to get a better look at Derek.

He stands by his original opinion that Derek Hale is just way too gorgeous in general, much more for someone sick with a magical flu, but this close, he can see the bit of bruising around his eyes from the lack of sleep. His cheeks are rosy-pink from sickness, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to press his hand against one.

Derek lets out a surprised sound at his touch that startles Stiles into realizing what he’s done. He goes to take his hand off the werewolf, ready to apologize for overstepping when Derek gives him a surprise of his own by leaning into his touch, his pretty eyes fluttering shut, a peaceful look coming over his face.

Stiles holds his breath as Derek lets out another lovely rumbling sound from deep in his throat.

“Your hand is cool,” Derek murmurs softly, his eyes slowly opening to look at him. “It feels nice.”

Stiles bites down on his lip, feeling his stomach clench when Derek’s eyes drift to them, and he licks his own.

Holy shit, Lydia was right. This whole time he had figured that this was just one-sided. That it was him once again developing feelings for someone who would never return his affections. But looking at Derek now, he sees the same want and longing he sees in the mirror every day.

“Oh, screw you,” he breathes out, tightening his hold on Derek when he tries to pull away. “Nope, you don’t get to retreat now, sourwolf,” he warns him with narrowed eyes, proving his suspicions real by the way he listens to him. “You heard Lydia earlier,” he challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“I have good ears,” Derek grumbles back.

“So you heard her when she said we have feelings for each other,” he says, his heart beating faster than usual with anxiety, and he knows Derek can hear that too. Derek’s almost timid, hopeful expression when he gives him a single nod helps ease that worry as he starts to feel hopeful too. “Only all this time, I thought I was the only one with feelings here.”

“I thought you were the smart one,” Derek murmurs, a small grin playing on his lips when he sputters indignantly.

Stiles huffs loudly, even as he’s unable to stop the silly grin that takes over his face.

“Your heartbeat sounds happy,” Derek tells him softly as he looks down to his chest.

“You like me back,” he answers, letting out an incredulous laugh when Derek smiles at him, not denying it. Instead, he looks at him fondly, causing Stiles’ heart to skip a beat at being the recipient of such a rare and special look. “I’m more than happy right now, Derek,” he shakes his head. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Derek smiles again, pushing off the mountain of pillows behind him, reaching out for him. Stiles does the same, placing his hands on Derek’s bare shoulders, playing with the edge of his white tank top. His face gets inches away from Stiles’ when he stops.

“Wait – “ he starts as Stiles already shakes his head.

“No, no waiting,” he whines, wrapping his fingers around the material of his shirt, leaning forward. He rubs the tip of his nose against Derek’s even as he tries to close the last inch of distance between their lips. “I have had a crush on you since like junior year, Derek. No waiting, no wasting any more time, kissing now.”

Derek chuckles slightly. This close up he can see Derek’s eyes shining with joy, and Stiles wants to be responsible for that from now on.

“I’m sick, remember?”

“Affects werewolves, not humans,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against Derek’s, sighing at the feel of their softness. His sigh turns into a low moan as Derek gives in, hauling him onto his lap, proving that werewolf flu or not, his strength is still superior.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck as he cradles him between his legs. He kisses him slow and deeply, thoroughly, it being such a long time coming. He sinks his fingers into Derek’s hair gripping it harder than he intended, pulling on it on reflex when Derek gives his bottom lip a bite. The pleased growl Derek lets out against his mouth vibrates down his whole body, making his spine tingle. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, only for it to turn into a gasp when Derek ducks to kiss his way down his neck.

“Totally worth the risk,” he gets out, moaning as Derek traces his moles with his tongue.

Derek laughs against his throat. He pulls back to look at him, smiling widely. “You say that now, but don’t complain later if you do get sick.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, not really worried or caring right now when he’s in Derek’s arms. “If it happens, we’ll stay in bed together until we’re both better,” he answers, his eyes lighting up as he speaks. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Let’s stay in bed.”

He waggles his eyebrows, grinning when Derek huffs, rolling his eyes at him.

“The most ridiculous person I know,” he mutters right as he rolls them over, ignoring the yelp Stiles lets out at the sudden movement.

Stiles blinks up at the ceiling while Derek throws an arm and a leg over him, settling around Stiles like he’s his own personal body pillow.

“What about the soup?” he questions even as he starts combing his fingers through Derek’s silky hair, scratching at his scalp with blunt nails.

“Mhmm,” Derek hums out, his face tucked into Stiles’ neck, already sounding half-asleep. “It will keep.”

Stiles laughs softly, but still, he wraps his arms more securely around the sleeping wolf, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead because he can now, closing his eyes too.

The soup can wait.

[fandom-is-my-middle-name]

Sam puts the "chest" in WinCHESTer

Proof:

These need no explanation,

The formals just makes him look so delicious (also the scruff oof),

Sad Sammy is still one of the strongest, most beautiful people I've ever seen and his shOULDERS (I want to bury my face in his neck),

That huffy chest thing he does ugghhh,

Something to indulge my tied up Sam fantasies,

He can give the warmest hugs and that's just fact fight me (all I want to hug him softly can you tell),

I will not be accepting any criticism.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[andy-clutterbuck]

[cela-astral-projection]

See the west wind move like a lover so upon the fields of barley. Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth among the fields of gold. I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I've broken. I swear in the days still left we'll walk in fields of gold.

18+ under the cut. Asra is still gone and Celeste is still at the hut. 

They returned to the hut and sat together in front of the fire. Muriel and Celeste were, for the most part, silent.

Muriel had never been much for conversation. Celeste had been, once, but she fought to find the words now.

In place of speaking, she had found a home between his thighs, and she sat, facing him, her legs hooked over his, on either side of his hips.

It was intensely awkward, initially. Muriel had blushed scarlet, unable to meet Celeste's reverent gaze. The feeling of heat from between her thighs creeping across the front of his breeches. The softness of her thighs against his hips. The smell of her perfume in his nostrils.

But, with time, he relaxed, allowing her hands to trace his scars, smooth her fingers through his hair, examine his face. Her fingers brushed across his eyebrows, his lips, the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw.

Her hands settled on the collar at his throat, studying it. Pressing her palms against the spikes. Not hard enough to wound, but enough to feel their sharpness, how solid they were. Her fingers traced the length of the chain that fell against his chest. She shook her head, turning her face to his, meeting his eyes.

"Too heavy," she said, her tone worried.

"There are heavier things," he replied softly.

She caught his meaning, and moved her hand to his chest, to his heart, not breaking eye contact. He nodded in acknowledgment. She drew a long breath.

"Broken," she asserted, not a question.

"Yes," he responded.

She moved her hand down his arm and caught his wrist, bringing his hand to her chest, resting it at her heart. "Broken,"

He had to fight the urge to scoff. Celeste had no idea just how broken her heart was. And he couldn't forget. That horrible and beautiful thing that Asra had done.

"You love me?" she asked, pressing his hand more firmly against her chest.

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Always. And you loved me, too."

"Love you. Not loved." Celeste corrected, squeezing his hand.

Muriel sighed. "How can you know that?" his voice was somber.

Celeste seemed to mull it over, twisting her mouth up, then blowing a tendril of hair out of her face. "I hear...echoes. From before."

He made a noise of affirmation. Not a memory. Something reverberating across time and space.

"And Asra? You love him, too?" he asked, curious.

She nodded, answering as if it was hardly a question at all. "My Master. My heart."

He tilted his head. "Master?" he said aloud. He gave a dark chuckle. The fact that he was letting her call him that. The fact that she was letting him get away with having her call him that? Spoke volumes to the depths of things she had lost. Celeste had never really been subservient to anyone.

She lifted an eyebrow at his amusement. "Asra is my teacher," she said, almost offended.

"Stick with 'Asra' for the time being," he replied, genuinely displeased with this 'Master' nonsense.

"You and Asra...like Asra and I. Right?" she questioned, trying to understand the dynamic.

It was Muriel's turn to think it over. He blushed a bit, considering what he could say. Though, she seemed to know already. He took a breath, drawing air between his teeth. He couldn't answer her directly.

Celeste giggled at his blush, and the color at his cheeks deepened. "Right,"  punctuating the subject. "Like us. That's good. Asra is...good." she said, a lilt in her tone, implying something more than the fact that Asra was a wonderful person.

Muriel was not at all prepared to have this conversation. He and Asra had been together for years. They weren't involved in any official capacity, but they belonged together. They had an understanding that they loved each other.  

He didn't consider himself to be jealous. At least not with Celeste. That was what they had all wanted. To share each other. To be together. All three of them.

Julian had been another matter entirely, but he could even reason that away with the idea that grief made Asra do stupid things. Like fucking Julian Devorak. And bringing people back from the dead.

Though he didn't quite mind the second one quite so much at this very moment.

"And you and I...?" she pushed, just a bit further.

He huffed a sigh, then shook his head. "No. You and I never were together. Not like that."

She looked a little shocked at that, looking him over. "Why?"

He snorted. Derisive. "No time, unfortunately."

Celeste was puzzled. They loved each other, but weren't physically intimate? She was in love with this man, and they weren't fucking? What the hell was she thinking? That seemed impossible.

He watched her expression. "It was never a matter of want. I assure you," he said, trying to quell her confusion. "It just couldn't happen."

She knew enough to understand that she wouldn't get much more than that from him, so she nodded her assent. "We have time now?" she offered, shifting forward a bit, teasing.

'Oh, Gods. Please,' Muriel thought, staring up at the ceiling, swallowing hard. 'Please, give me strength.' he implored.

Strength for what, he was uncertain. To deny her? To not take her right there?

Then again, he really didn't want the Gods to know she was there. With him. Breaking the terms of his deal, with the one he'd made the deal for.

'No,' he amended. 'Fuck you. Fuck your deal. Celeste is mine. I'm keeping her.'

He had only ever kissed her once. Through the bars of his cell. Sure, there had been other little kisses, on the cheek, the corner of her mouth, when they'd first brought her back. He had laid alongside her and Asra, holding her, willing her back to them. Knowing that he would have to leave her.

But she was here. And she was flesh and blood. She was tender and soft and sweet and his.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, and her hand came up to his jaw, long fingers cupping his chin, drawing him to her. His arms snaked around her waist, conscious of the spikes at his wrists. Their mouths met. It was chaste. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the sensation.

How long had it been? Before she was resurrected. Before the plague. How many nights had he dreamt of this? Felt the ghost of her kiss lingering on his mouth? It was every blissful remembrance made real.

She loved everything about him. The scruff of his beard under her palm. His lips were chapped, but full and soft. He smelled natural. Of sweat, and cedar, and myrrh. His hair was silky but dense and heavy. Cut shaggy and mostly unkempt. It was dark, and the firelight glimmered in it. Dark brown, almost black.  The silvery raised scars that crossed his body. It pained her to think of what may have caused them. What hurts he endured.

She still found him appealing. Beautiful. Powerful. He was hard, and yet, so yielding under her touch. The way he allowed her to examine him. Drink him in. Even as his face burned with a blush. He didn't hide from her. Didn't shy away. He wanted to be touched. To be seen. To be seen by her.

The kiss was slow, heated, pressure building. Becoming more passionate with each moment Celeste and Muriel were joined. His mouth parted hers, and she felt his tongue tracing her teeth. She could taste him. Her tongue met his, tips flicking against one another's, sinking deeper, rolling, and massaging.

His hands crept up her back, one resting at the back of her neck, the other coiling into her hair. Rough callouses skimming her scalp. She shivered. The small hairs on her body standing on end. She tilted her head back, seeking that sensation again, her mouth pulling away from his.

His lips drug along her chin, her jaw, to her throat. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so that he could access her neck more easily. His tongue flicked across her skin, and then his lips would press, and he would suckle and release, leaving small pink welts in his wake. She laid back, allowing him to guide her lower to the pelt that lay on the floor beneath them. Inch, by inch, his kisses falling upon her chest. He had appreciated Asra's chosen wardrobe more, his stolen shirt parting easily enough, falling away from her shoulders. Her chest revealing itself to him.

He had wondered what her breasts might look like. Hazy memories of her form in the dark. So long had he seen her in the shadow, her silhouette, traced by torchlight in the dungeon. He had imagined them, but nothing came close to the reality of them. Dense and full. The areola barely visible, only a shade or so darker than the rest of her tawny skin, a small bud of a nipple rising as it was exposed to the air. He drew a ragged breath, marveling at her form.

He laid her down and made to disentangle his legs from hers, grateful that she'd been in such an advantageous position. Easy to move between her thighs, part them with his knees, her skirt riding up. He made quick work of the remaining fastenings that held her blouse closed and brushed the fabric away. He took a moment, moving a hand over the plane of her belly.  Her stomach was soft, undefined. He was almost surprised to see a thin line of coarse brunette hairs from beneath the band of her skirt leading up to her belly button. He traced them with his finger. She gave a quiet giggle, then bit her lip, tickled by the caress.

Muriel lowered himself to her breast, laving his tongue over her nipple, feeling it stiffen slowly, the skin around it contract. Celeste hissed above him, her head rolling back. He wrapped his lips around the nub, suckling, releasing, suckling again, every once in a while, his teeth would graze the site, and she would squirm a bit. Her hands were up, above her head, pulling the soft orbs taut, her back arching, pressing them against his lips. He moved between the knolls, abandoning one for the other.

He moved down her body, drawing his mouth excruciatingly gently over her sternum, her rib cage, her belly, to the waistband of her skirt. She watched him as he went, eyes half-lidded. His movements were so deliberate and worshipful. His fingers moved to her skirt, and she lifted her hips to help him slide it down.

Muriel was confronted by the soft mound of her mons. He had assumed, given their prior seating arrangement, that she was, in fact, bare beneath her skirt, but seeing it first hand was entirely different. Covered in a dark thatch of curls. The same dark hairs that climbed upwards towards her navel, but thicker, curlier, and denser. It was a curiosity, fleshy and yielding under his fingers, soft lips that gave way to damp slick folds.

His lover of choice, Asra, had decidedly different anatomy. But Lucio had made a point to bring "gifts" to him after what he felt was a particularly good performance in the arena. The workers were always courteous, pitying. Preformative. And fearful of him. Putting on another show for Lucio. All of them under duress, but suppressing their desire to flee or resist under threat of further punishment.  Lucio always framed it as a charity, but it wasn't above him to take himself in hand while he watched.

And Muriel couldn't deny there was some comfort in the release. He had learned about giving pleasure. Lucio would dictate to him precisely what he wanted to see. Of the indignities and crimes he endured, it was certainly the lesser of the evils. Traumatic though it certainly was.  The sex worker's bodies were always perfect, groomed, perfumed, painted. It was all artificial.

But Celeste was real. And beautiful. She wasn't pretending. She wasn't intimidated. Muriel didn't want to separate himself from this.  

He wanted the smell of her in his nostrils, the taste of her cunt on his tongue. She writhed and moaned as he lapped at her clit, his hands holding her hips down, feeling her strain to push up against his ministrations. His name flowing from her lips. Her fingers in his hair. He licked up the slick that trickled from her core, his tongue darting into her tight hole, stroking her, drinking of her body. She tensed and fell apart, her body vibrating. She keened and whined, and he persisted, repeating the same cycle over again. When she could take no more, she called his name, pushing at his cheek with her thigh, too overstimulated to continue the onslaught.

He moved to her side, hand at her jaw, drawing her mouth back to his. He whispered against her mouth, imploring her to taste herself. She ran her tongue along his lips, and he recaptured her, feverishly claiming her mouth. Celeste rolled towards him, mouths still locked. Her hands moving immediately to the waist of his trousers, making deft work of the ties and buckles.

He fell back, parting their kiss. His shoulders pressed into the pelt, and he lifted his hips, pushing the clothing down, kicking off his boots and the offending garment. When he settled, her hand found his cock, hard.

Her fingers moved along his length, sizing him up. She paused for a moment, unsure, and she pushed away for a moment to look down at his member to confirm what she was feeling.  She looked up at him, and he looked equal parts embarrassed and amused.

It was...a lot. Not gratuitous or offensive, certainly. It suited him. Large man. Proportionate dick. All told, it was a gorgeous cock. Silky and veiny with a dusky head, the slightest slick of pre-come at the tip, forming under her touch. All the same, a bit daunting.

"I'll go slow," he reassured her, and she nodded.

She started to move down his body, and he caught her arm, pleading with her. "If you use your mouth on me, I won't last." he cautioned. Of course, he wanted it. But the prospect of her pretty eyes looking up at him as she sucked his cock, choked on it, swallowed his come...there was time for that, later.

He had been waiting years for this. The novelty of fucking Celeste's mouth was nothing compared to the idea of burying himself in her cunt. Riding her until she drained him and his come spilled out of her. He wouldn't be denied that.

She reclined again, and he rolled onto his side, his hand moving to her thigh, drawing her close. He pulled her leg over his hip and positioned himself at the slit at the apex of her thighs. Celeste drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her body relaxing. He pushed forward gradually. Celeste's eyes fluttered closed, and she focused on remembering to breathe.

The first sensation was the heat, pressing and sliding between her folds, seeking out her entrance. Then, the slow, agonizing stretch as Muriel entered her. Her breath caught, and he stopped, waiting for her to settle. She swallowed then nodded, biting her lip. He eased forward further, then withdrew a bit.

Muriel's movements were shallow, gradual. He was restraining himself. Acclimatizing her to his size. He watched her face, listened to the sound of her breathing, how quiet little mewls and keens started pouring from her lips as he continued to rock back and forth. She was hot and dripping, and so very tight.  Each thrust was just the slightest bit deeper, taking him further in. She started to roll her hips forward against him, finding his rhythm and meeting it.

His movements became less disciplined as he sank further into her, the clench of her walls silken around his hardness. He called out her name. His hand gripped her thigh, rolling her against him with each drive forward into her cunt.

Celeste moved her hand to her clit, a finger on either side of the sensitive bud. He crashed into her over again, and she pressed and released over and over with each thrust. The pressure and stretch of him filling her combined with the stimulation on her already oversensitive nerves. Lights flashed behind her eyelids, and she made involuntary noises, breathy sounds that came unbidden.

Muriel's name. Over and over.

His beautiful girl, calling for him. He groaned, and his body hitched, overwhelmed by the dire need to release. A vibration that spread from every extremity. He was desperate for it to stop, but it could continue forever. Exquisite and beautiful, drowning him in pleasure. Transcending physical feeling.  His whole body tingling, hot and cold. Helpless yet in complete control. The entirety of tactile sense surging towards a single exit point. He spilled into her, crying out, head falling back, pushing further into her, filling her with his seed.

He remained seated in her, coming down, getting his bearings. She used the thick, creamy come that leaked from around his cock to stroke her clit to another orgasm. Her canal clenching around his spent member. He listened to her moaning, felt the shuddering of her body.

For a long while, they lay, side by side, searching each other's faces. Muriel stroked her cheek, brushed her hair away from her face. She caught his hand and brought his palm to her lips, pressing soft kisses to his hands. They basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

It was nearly too much for Muriel to bear. So many years of longing. And now, he had her. It was everything he had wanted. She was his, and she was perfect.

How could he go back to the yearning? How could he let this go?

He wouldn't. Celeste would stay.

He didn't know how, but he would keep her. He would heal her. Asra could stay, or Asra could leave them. Celeste was his. He would fight for her. He had to. The idea of her ever being away from him again. Forgetting him was too much to bear.

Hadn't he paid enough? Surely whatever deities Asra had entreated were not so cruel to keep them apart. It had to mean something, this feeling in his chest. This surge of love and adoration. It couldn't be for nothing.

[famousconfessions]

Did you miss me?

Title: Did you miss me? // Ed Sheeran Fanfiction, mature content

Author: @superkatesi & @famousconfessions

Rating: NC-17

Author's note: Sooo @superkatesi and I did a thing. We were just talking and daydreaming and ended up being like "Okay, let's just write something and have some fun with it". We hope you like it and please remember that English is not our first language but we tried our best :D Every kind of feedback is appreciated! So here it goes...

It was 11 a.m. Friday. I was sitting on the floor packing our suitcase for the upcoming trip. Ed’s family was throwing a huge party dedicated to his dad’s birthday. All of Ed’s cousins, aunts and uncles were going to Suffolk for this meaningful day. Ed was about to arrive home and I was buzzing. It had been a while since we seen each other. During the last three months I was completely absorbed into the thoughts of missing this ginger perfection. There were minutes when I was just starring at his guitar that always stands next to his favorite armchair. At those moments, I closed my eyes and tried to depict him sitting there with a cup of freshly – brewed tea, a laptop and a guitar humming a new ballad. But then I realized that it was just me working on a project. Different continents, countries, time zones – all these things couldn’t ruin our love. Love that was neatly wrapped in a blanket of our sleepy mornings, wild nights and all-consuming tenderness. All of a sudden, I heard that someone was knocking on the door. It was Ed.

I got up from the floor, almost stumbling over my own feet while I was trying to get to the door as fast as possible. I just couldn't handle being away from him any longer. My heart was racing in my chest and when I finally saw him, I was so overwhelmed, that tears pooled in my eyes. “Hey baby girl", these three words and him standing right in front of me was just too much. “You are here” was everything I could say, before he pulled me in for a hug and I wrapped my arms around him as tight as I could. It kinda felt like a dream and I couldn't believe that he was actually here in my arms. I've had missed him so much, it was crazy. I didn't know it was possible to miss a person so much that it physically hurt but I learned that the hard way. “Yes, I am, love... and I'm not gonna leave anytime soon”, he said, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. Smiling I looked up at him, biting my bottom lip. “Thank god, but I wouldn't let you go anyway”, I said, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, before I kissed his lips. It had just been too long... and missing him got harder every time he left for another leg of his never ending tour. But for now he was all mine... at least until we had to leave for that party. It was just so good to have him back, feeling his arms around me, his lips on mine, his amazing scent. God, it was almost too much for me.

I pouted, when he broke away from me to go to the bathroom to probably freshen up a bit.

He looked so casual and a bit tired after a long-distance flight, but all excited. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt that drew my attention to his colorful flexed biceps. He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes in this childish way that always melts my heart. I heard him screaming from the bathroom: “Did you miss me, love?”. Of course, he knew the answer but wanted to hear it one more time. I’d just wanted to tell him everything that I felt at the moment but there he was, standing next to the door-post. He left his T-shirt somewhere in the hamper. His bright tummy looked like a masterpiece and he had that promising, mischievous look in his eyes. I couldn’t help but come up to him: “Do you really want to know it? Did I miss you? Let me show you, baby boy”. I started trailing my fingers from his bare chest to the auburn scruff on his face that was deliciously tickling my fingers. He pulled me to his naked torso and I felt heat spreading all over my body. He left me speechless.

Actually, I couldn't even put into words how much I missed him so it was probably a better idea to show him. I was kinda nervous now, being so close to him and I was sure it was because I was so excited for him to be back. My whole body was tingling and I just wanted to feel him all over me. Like... he was so close but still too far away. “Go on, love, show me”, his raspy, whispering voice sent shivers down my spine, so I needed a moment, before I was able to put my lips on the rose tattoo on his left shoulder. My lips wandered from there to his neck, then down to the lion on his chest, while my hands rested on his stomach, slowly travelling down to his belt. Ed tilted his head back, anticipating my hands unbuckling it. He is a well-known tease-lover but this time was my turn. I didn’t want to let this little ready-to-go kitten get everything at once, even though I was dying to rip his pants off and admire this pleasurable view. I started giving him feather-light touches in the area where his trousers started visibly tenting. “Please, let me.. I can’t wait anymore...” he whispered under the breath in his full of desire voice. “Don’t be so mea..” he didn’t manage to finish his phrase ‘cause my naughty fingers got under his belt just right into the pants and gave him a short stroke that couldn’t go without noticing. He shut his eyes, exhaled loudly and then grabbed me, put on his shoulder and then down to the sofa. I started giggling and bit his earlobe.

Ed pinned me to the velvet pillows on the couch and frowned his gingerish eyebrows articulating in a mentor-like tone: “Do you think this is funny? I’ve been craving for you all these months...Going to sleep with one single thought - you, and waking up thinking about your body right next to mine. The only thing I want to do during these spare hours before our Suffolk trip...the only thing I want... is your legs wrapped around me and your sweet moans in my ears”. That was the second when I finally lost my mind. His angelic, freckled face with curls on the forehead was just an inch away from mine and... I gave up. My lips crashed on his and it seemed like I’d lived all this time without oxygen and finally started breathing Before I met him I didn't know what it was like to be in love. Well, I thought I knew but this whole thing with him was so different. My feelings for him were so strong that it scared me from time to time. What if someday he left me? What if it didn't work out because of his job? I tried to erase these thoughts from my mind but sometimes I couldn't help but think about that. I loved him so much and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I didn't have a Plan B, so if this would go wrong in the future I wouldn't know how to keep going. Luckily, everything was fine now, he was back and he was all mine right in this second. “You're wearing way too many clothes, babe", he whispered after he broke the kiss and brought me back to reality. After all, reality was now better than dreaming. “Then help me get rid of it", I replied, biting my bottom lip, wiggling under him because I was so impatient. Just a second later I felt his warm, soft hands under my shirt and a small moan escaped my lips. I almost forgot how good his hands felt on me and I couldn't wait for more. I just hoped that he wouldn't play the teasing game with me tonight... but of fucking course he took his time, running his hands over my upper body and before I could complain I felt his lips on my neck, sucking and nibbling and I was pretty sure that I wouldn't get out of this without a hickey.

“I’m going to make you feel incredibly good, love”, he cooed while taking off my shirt. It was a bit chilly in the room but my nipples hardened not because of it but because of his skillful fingers that were dancing round them, twisting and squeezing. He was sitting on me with his eyes traveling from my face to my boobs. I lifted myself on the elbows and started unzipping his jeans. He helped me and threw his pants away standing there only wearing his black Calvin Klein’s. I felt these sparks of electricity and tension between us. He leaned towards me and without any hesitation took my shorts and a thong off. I wrapped my arms around his neck, inhaled this mind-blowing smell and wanted to capture this moment forever in memory. “Please don't ever leave for this long again", I mumbled between huffed breaths and chaste kisses, while I ran my hands through his soft ginger curls... but he just smiled, pressed a few kisses to my cheek, my neck, then travelled down my shoulder, my breasts and down my stomach. My eyes fell shut, I couldn't think anymore and the pure sensation of his lips on my skin was almost enough to send me over the edge. I was hungry for more... a lot more. Talking to him on the phone and texting just wasn't the same as actually feeling him on me.

“I'm here now, love”, I suddenly heard his voice again. “So don't worry”, ohh no, I didn't. He definitely erased every negative thought with what he was doing and he slowly made me lose my mind. His lips wandered even lower, but not where I wanted them the most. Instead he took his time to kiss every inch of my thighs, just letting me wait. Ohh, he would regret that later. He then made his way up again and just when I'd given up hope I suddenly felt his lips and his tongue right there! “Ohh fuck, Teddy”, I gasped, my hands finding his hair again to have something to hold onto. He used his long fingers to spread my folds and put his tongue deeper while rubbing his nose on the most sensual part of my dripping sex. His a bit calloused fingers kneaded every piece of this positively-singing area. My hips started spontaneously buckling straight into his face that was already covered with my juices. “Are u alright, sweet girl? Can’t wait for you to come all over my face?” he growled and started lapping me with a double zeal. Every time, these words, combined with the sexiest accent in the whole world, send me to the sky. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and they travelled from his head to my nipples. Ed noticed my action and gave me the wildest look of his already darkened navy-blue eyes. “Fuck...” I grasped, this man was truly gifted. I saw my impatient boy freeing his well-sculptured cock with one hand and giving it a long slow stroke. He couldn’t wait anymore but didn’t forget about me. Ed started rubbing messy circles on my already intolerably aching clit. This spectacular sight and sensations sent stores of electricity down my lower belly wires. I would've loved to help him out but right now I wasn't able to do anything other than to feel and watch while he touched himself. Every little movement of his fingers brought me closer, I was panting, biting my lip, trying to keep my eyes open because I just wanted to look at him. God, he was the most beautiful human being on earth and he didn't even know.

“Teddy, I'm so close, oh god, I-”, I couldn't finish my sentence, because his lips crashed down on mine but at the same time he stopped touching me and I growled into the kiss. Why the fuck did he stop now? I pushed him away playfully and looked at him puzzled, but this fucking tease just grinned at me. “Don't be mad at me, baby girl, I just don't want to finish you off like that just now”, uggh! I growled at him again, but I couldn't be seriously angry at him... not at all. Funnily, his little game just made me want him even more. I got him to lie on his back and I crawled over him, kissing his lips hungrily, while I felt his throbbing cock twitching against my tummy. “Let's see who's the impatient one here, huh?”, I whispered into his ear, rubbing myself against him. I kissed him again, while my hands travelled over the colorful tattoos on his chest, his belly, further down... and then up again. I took my time, listening to his heavy breathing and soft moans which really, really turned me on... until I finally touched him where he needed me the most. Just fingertips to very sensitive, soft skin but I heard him take a sharp breath and that made me want to tease him some more.

“Do you want more?”, I asked, looking into his eyes while my fingertips kept stroking him. “Yes, please...I want more...”, he whispered, trying to concentrate his attention on my fingers rubbing a pink plush head of his tool. I spit on my palm and spread it all the way down his shaft. It was a long wet stroke that made him tense his belly muscles. Poor boy, he couldn’t last any longer and I decided to stop that sweet torture. I was literally dripping wet and my only wish at that moment was Ed’s cock stretching out my sensitive walls...I was dying to feel every vein on his shaft and his hands all over my buzzing body. I made myself comfortable and started lowering... his twitching head touched and entered my opening just for a sec. I saw Ed’s fists grabbed the blanket that was on the sofa but his eyes were wide-open and focused on that particular moment. I did the same thing one more time but let him feel it for a while. A long primal moan escaped his parted lips. “If you’re going to play with me like this, babe, I will explode in a minute”, he groaned in a begging tone. Okay, these words..this man... his desire.... Without any hesitation I sank all the way down his length... That feeling of him filling me out was just out of this world, especially after such a long time. His head fell back in pleasure and I heard a long, deep growl out of his mouth which turned me on even more. I stopped for a second, getting used to him, before I started moving.

My hands were on his chest for some support, while his grabbed my hips, his fingers digging deep into my skin, guiding me. We soon found the perfect rhythm, just like we always did and even if it sounded weird, I was always glad when that happened because every time he was gone I feared that something between us would change, he would find someone better, he would realize that he didn't want to have a relationship because his career was so engaging. But right now that wasn't the case. It was just us, our love and lust for each other and the perfect unity of our bodies. “Fuck, love... don't stop now”, he groaned and a second later our gazes met. We looked into each other’s eyes and the moment was so intense that I almost exploded right there and then. I definitely didn't think about stopping now, so I increased our pace, his hips meeting mine. I saw stars dancing in front of my eyes with every thrust and when he suddenly started kissing my neck and his fingers found my clit again I just lost it. Everything came crashing down on me and the high carried me away. A few seconds of absolute pleasure, no worries, no pain, nothing... just the pure thrill of ecstasy. My nails were digging deeper into his chest when I felt him twitch inside of me and my walls clenched around him again, what seemed to send him over the edge, too. His head fell to my chest and he was panting, while we both rode out or orgasms, trying to regain steady breaths. “I love you, baby girl”, I heard him whisper, as I ran my hands through his soft ginger curls. “I love you too... and I'm so happy to have you back”.

A perfect reunion.

We were lying on the couch. I was listening to his heartbeat and he was playing with my hair. I looked around: my table covered with papers, our photos on the wall, his armchair with the guitar next to it and a half-way-through packed suitcase...wait?!.. “Ed, Ed! We’re going to be late for your dad’s B-Day party!” I exclaimed grabbing my t-shirt and trying to put on my shorts at the same time. I heard Ed answering his phone: “Hi, mum...we are on our way...”

[aotimagines]

Heya!! Your scenario with Reiner returning to Liberio was one of the most beautiful I've ever read!! I've wanted to request something like that for a while, and the last chapter (97) left me devastated, so I'd like to ask for a scenario where Reiner's fem s/o is aware of his suicidal urges and tries her best to comfort him and to be there for him... If it's too uncomfortable to write it's okay, just skip this ask!

Aw, anon, I’m seriously blushing. Thank-you so much for saying such nice things! I...got really carried away with this. Like 1.1k words carried away for something that was supposed to be a short little blurb. Anyways, this can be considered a sequel to this piece, but it can be read as a stand-alone piece as well. Massive trigger-warning as this involves the scene from chapter 97 as well as massive spoiler warning for those who don’t read the manga. With all of that out of the way, I hope you enjoy! 

It was unusual for Reiner to skip out on meeting youafter breakfast.

Now that he was here, home and alive and safe inside of Liberio’s city walls, thetwo of you were always seen side-by-side whether it be running errands togetheror taking a leisurely stroll. No one knew when the beckoning call of war woulddisturb this thinly-veiled sham that the Marley officials called peace but, for now, all you wanted to dowas savor the time that you had been granted with your boyfriend.

If you could find him through the sea of people wanderingaround the market, that is.

After receiving a tip that Reiner might have been holedup in one of the offices that held war information and weapons (you’d have tothank Pieck for the heads up, later), you clutched your satchel tighter to yourchest and made way through the streets. Occasionally, you’d smile at citizensthat passed you by, echoing hollow good-morningsand ­nice weather today, right justto seem amicable. While you might harbor a secret resentment for all the trialsand tribulations the Marley government put Reiner and everyone else through,the people in Liberio were mostly innocent. The only crime that they’d have totheir names is cowardice—a trait that you understood well.

“Reiner?” you called once you entered the trainingfacility, eyes darting around for any signs or traces of your boyfriend. Giventhat it was still early in the morning, you were unsurprised to see the lack ofpeople skulking about. Humming beneath your breath, you stopped in front of thedoor that led into the office area Reiner often used for study and, more timesthan he would admit, alone time. You didn’t knock before entering and maybethat didn’t matter. Somehow, you doubted it would have spared you from thesight of Reiner—your beloved, tough, dependableboyfriend—with the barrel of a gun shoved in the back of his throat.

The both of you froze—him from disdain and frustrationand you from fear and complete disbelief. You felt numb; too confused to cry,and too furious at him to comprehend anything else besides marching over to himonce he removed the gun from his mouth, snatching the rifle by the end, andthrowing it to the floor without a single care about scruff marks or damage.

It fell to the floor with a noisy clattering, yet thesound was fleeting. Chest heaving, you stared down at Reiner, eyes glassy andnarrowed while awaiting some sort ofexplanation for the sight you had just witnessed. When nothing came, you surgedforward and gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin through hisshirt, leaving behind faint crescent-shaped marks.

“What the hell were you thinking? How could you do something like that to me? To yourmother—to Gabi and Falco?” you demanded, your vice-like hold on his shouldersonly tightening. If Reiner felt any pain, his face didn’t show it. Rather, hesat there quietly while you screamed at him, silently taking in everything thatran incessantly through your mind.

Silence trickled back into the room, save for yourlabored breathing. Your throat was rubbed raw, vocal chords spent, yet yourefused to back down until he gave you an answer. You were his girlfriend, for God’s sake! If he couldn’ttalk to you, then who could he turnto?

Head bowed, your eyes flickered to the window directlybehind his head. “Were you going to do it?” When your question received noanswer, you dipped your head down, fury frothing back to life inside the pit ofyour stomach as you asked again, this time with more bite to your tone, “Reiner,were you going to do it? Answer me,damn it!”

“No,” he croaked and the crumbly, cracked foundation ofthe walls he had spent so much time piecing together began to dismantle rightbefore you. His golden eyes reflected the hopelessness he felt but hereiterated one more time, “But not because I didn’t want to. I’m too much of acoward to go through with it, even after I tried to change. I still have thingsI have to do.”

The anger that had been bubbling inside of you quelled athis distraught answer as sadness curled around your heart. “Why didn’t you say something?” Had Reiner not beenpaying close attention, your words would have been lost due to how quietly youspoke. You slid your hands from his shoulders up to his face, holding hischeeks in order to peer down into those golden eyes you had come to love andadore, repeating, “Why didn’t you let me know how you were feeling? If youcouldn’t talk to me, then why didn’t you talk to your mom? If—if this is aboutyour titan powers, Pieck and Porco could—”

“It’s about Paradis,” Reiner swiftly interjected, “andeverything else. All of it. It’s too much and I feel it slowly crushing me. Ican barely keep my head above the surface but you and the rest of the kids; Ican’t leave you just yet.”

Tears freely rolled down your face, but you concealedthem by tugging Reiner closer, his face buried in your stomach while your armswrapped around his shoulders. “I know something’s been bothering you since yougot back, Reiner. Please, just talk to me. I promise I’ll listen.”

With a heaving sigh, Reiner slowly confessed everythinghe had been through since he received the Armored Titan’s powers. Fromdiscovering his father and learning the truth all the way to what trulyhappened during the fight in Shiganshina; he didn’t leave a detail out. True toyour word, you were silent throughout the whole thing, clearly unsure of whatto say or how to even relate.

“You think I’m some sort of heretic now.”

“No,” you protested, peeling Reiner back from your holdin order to meet his watery stare. “I don’t think that at all. I think you’resomeone who has had the weight of the world on their shoulders and—and got toolost in a mission that was too unfair to ask of a child. I don’t blame you forbeing attached to them or feeling guilty over losing Marcel, but none of that is your fault. We’ll keepthis between us…as long as you promise to come to me when you’re feeling likethis. I don’t want to lose you.”

Reiner didn’t have the heart to tell you that,eventually, you will lose him due tothe inheritance ceremony. Instead, he bit down on his tongue, curled his armsaround your waist, and leaned his forehead back into your stomach. “How did Iget so damn lucky?” he questioned incredulously, earning a soft chuckle from youas he stroked his hair.

“Dunno. Guess you hit the jackpot because I’m here forthe long-haul. I’m not going anywhere, Reiner—I promise.”

There were a lot of things Reiner Braun didn’t believe inanymore, but the promise you made him? That was the one thing he could put hisblind faith in.

[andy-clutterbuck]

[andy-clutterbuck]

[andy-clutterbuck]