#zing and you'll miss it

[raina-at]

Familiar

This is very vaguely based on my fic Zing and You'll Miss It, but all you need to know is that Sherlock is a vampire, John is a human and magic exists.

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“This is a tiny bit humiliating,” John mutters, picking up the black cat rubbing its body against his legs.

He deposits the cat on his shoulder and moves further into the building. 

All witches have familiars, John, the cat purrs into his ear, sounding amused.

“I bet most of them aren’t actually vampire boyfriends, though,” John murmurs, looking around the crowded room full of dark-clad witches with their various familiars. He sees cats, dogs, snakes, crows, even a few large, hairy spiders.

Seeing as you are not actually a witch either, I don’t see why we’re having this conversation. 

John huffs an exasperated sigh when Cat Sherlock settles his claws into John’s shoulder to hold on, but concedes that he has a point. He grabs a glass of wine from a nearby tray and holds it up for Cat Sherlock to sniff. “Is this going to poison me?” he asks quietly.

I told you before, witches are human, and so is their food.  It’s why I needed you to get in here in the first place, Cat Sherlock purrs, and John has to bite down on a snicker because he’s never seen a cat roll his eyes before.

“So basically I’m your carrier.”

Cat Sherlock makes a movement that might be considered a shrug. You have other qualities, Sherlock purrs into his ear suggestively.

John squirms as Cat Sherlock’s wet nose touches the shell of his ear. “Can you not do this while you’re a cat? Makes me feel slightly pervy.”

You’re no fun at all.

John is about to respond when someone touches his arm. He turns around and comes face to face with a slight blonde witch in an alluring black dress. She gives him a charming smile and gestures at Cat Sherlock. “You talk to your cat too, I see.”

John smiles his most charming smile and shrugs. “You know how it is. Sometimes when he looks at me, I can almost imagine he’s intelligent - ow.” 

John glares at Cat Sherlock, who looks entirely innocent as he pointedly retracts his claws out of John’s shoulder.

The witch giggles and holds out her hand. “Oh, I know what you mean. I’m Pamela.”

John shakes her offered hand. “John. New here, actually.”

Pamela smiles and puts a hand on John’s arm, moving a bit closer. “I can show you around,” she says with a friendly, insinuating smile. “Not a lot of male witches here, bit of a breath of fresh air, honestly.”

Cat Sherlock narrows his eyes and hisses at her aggressively. Tell her to get her hands off you.

“Now, now,” John says, removing Cat Sherlock, who’s still hissing and spitting, from his shoulder. “None of that, or I’ll have you neutered.”

Low blow, Cat Sherlock hisses. Not funny at all.

“Why don’t you go have a look around, while I talk to Pamela here?” John asks, giving Sherlock a significant look. They’re not here for fun, after all. They’re here to find a missing cursed necklace.

Cat Sherlock gives him another hiss, and flicks his tail aggressively.  As long as blondie here keeps her hands to herself.

John rolls his eyes and sets Cat Sherlock down to the ground. Cat Sherlock glares at Pamela one more time, then vanishes into the crowd.

Pamela smiles indulgently. “He’s very cute.”

“He is,” John says, grinning, because he’s sure Sherlock can still hear them. “He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Pamela laughs.

John decides that this is as good a place as any to start the investigation. He gestures over the waiter with the hors d’oevres. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Tell me, Pamela, do you come here often?”

*-*

An hour later, John is surrounded by several witches, who are all a bit tipsy, and some of whom are getting a bit too personal with John. 

One witch has her hand on John’s chest as she’s talking, and John would really like for her to stop touching him, but she’s giving him valuable information about their suspect, a witch named Esther. 

“She used to live up on the first floor, you know,” the handsy witch is whispering in his ear while stroking his chest. “Her old room is still unoccupied- ow!”

The witch flinches back and John looks down when he hears a loud hissing and growling.

Cat Sherlock is glaring daggers at the witch while he hisses at her threateningly.

“Your cat bit me!” the witch howls in outrage.

“Sorry,” John says, giving the witch a charming smile. “Never have been able to teach him any manners.” He takes his still hissing and growling cat-shaped boyfriend by the scruff and moves in the direction of the stairs. “If you’re quite done with the dramatics, I think I figured out where our lost necklace is,” he whispers.

Cat Sherlock stops struggling and glares at him. Unhand me at once!

John sets him down on the floor and crouches down. “Can we go finish this case now please?”

Cat Sherlock’s tail flicks in indignation, but he indicates the stairs. You’re going to have to carry me. My legs are short.

John sighs and puts a now pliant Cat Sherlock on his shoulder again. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Cat Sherlock says nothing, but the way he looks at John and licks his paw is answer enough.

*-*

“Stop it,” John hisses. 

It’s not that hard, John. Insert the pick, and feel for the pins, Sherlock instructs, watching John work as he’s perched on his shoulder. 

“I know. It’s really difficult to concentrate with you sticking your claws into my back. I feel like an oversized pin cushion.”

Cat Sherlock heaves a sigh and jumps to the floor. We’d be done with this already if you hadn’t spent all night flirting with everything that moves.

“Oi, I didn’t flirt with anyone. They flirted with me.”

Didn’t see you complaining.

“I was interrogating- Oh, finally!”

The door opens with a satisfying click, and John pushes the door open.

They search the room quickly and efficiently and find the stolen necklace within minutes. 

John breathes a sigh of relief as he puts the cursed object into the containment pouch Mrs Hudson provided them with. His relief turns quickly into horror as he hears a voice from the door. “Here you are, you naughty boy. I’d wondered where you’d gone.”

The handsy witch from downstairs seems to have followed him and is just closing the door to the room, blocking his way outside. She stalks towards him and backs him against the wall, putting a hand on his chest. “Oh, you’re so yummy,” she whispers.

“That does it,” a decidedly human voice says from the mouth of the black cat on the floor. There’s a sort of giant poofing sound, and Sherlock Holmes emerges from his cat body, eyes glowing red and fangs out, in full indignant glory. “Hands off,” he hisses, still sounding astonishingly cat-like. 

The witch screams and flees, and John takes one look at his bristling boyfriend and starts laughing.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” Sherlock grumbles.

John, still giggling, fists a hand in Sherlock’s ridiculous coat and pulls him closer. “I never noticed how catlike you are when you’re all hissy,” he says. “It’s admittedly sort of hot.”

“Sort of?” Sherlock asks, eyebrows raised in indignation.

John presses a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “Very,” he murmurs, nosing his way up Sherlock’s throat. “Wanna go home and bite me a little?”

Sherlock makes a show of considering, but the possessive grip he has on John tells another story. Finally, he sighs and says, long-suffering but with a wicked grin, “Yeah, all right.”

-----

This was a deep cut into Raina lore, lol. But fun! Catlock!

I've started a collection of these ficlets on AO3 here and already added it to @calaisreno's collection.

Tags under the cut as always. Please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@jrow @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @jolieblack @totallysilvergirl @catlock-holmes @victorianpining @helloliriels @meetinginsamarra @discordantwords @givemesherbet-blog-blog

[luveline]

PLS PLS PLS IM ON MY KNEES what about Remus with a sunshine reader? Like she comes around and is just so chatty and energetic and a much needed change of pace for our brooding quiet boy

Remus takes his earphones out the moment he sees you, but that's his secret alone. You barrel through the atrium to drape yourself over Sirius’ shoulder, meeting his smirk with a genuinely ecstatic smile before looking up at the others. “Hello, my favourite boys. Did you get dinner yet?” 

“No, babe, we were waiting for you. Sit down,” Sirius says. 

You beam and make directly for the chair next to Remus, though you could've sat with Sirius, or a little ways across next to the girls. “Hey,” you say, like he's the only boy you've ever wanted to speak with. James makes a knowing face behind your back. “What are you having?” 

“Remus doesn't believe in canteen food,” James says.  

“No kidding,” you say, still smiling, not even slightly put off by this nor Remus’ passive expression. It's not that he doesn't like you, the opposite, he just has a headache and he hates uni. You make it easier, a light in the dark. “What's not to like? Three quid for a slice of burnt pizza or five for a bowl of metallicy pasta. You couldn't get it any better.” 

“We'll go up to town,” Sirius suggests with a chuckle.  

“Let's order a pizza or something, they'll deliver in here, won't they?” James asks. 

You focus on Remus. “You don't like anything at all? The curry and chips is nice enough.” 

“It's not for me.” 

You nod appreciatively and let your tote bag fall from your shoulder into the crook of your arm. You rifle around and pull out a tupperware full of cut fruit, slices of banana, strawberries, blueberries, what looks like circles of pear. “We can eat this.” 

Remus could say no. He can't decide what's worse, saying yes or no, that is until you open the lid and put it between you both, offering to Sirius and James as well, and suddenly it isn't awkward at all, just something you've done. The pads of your fingers turn pink with strawberry juice as you tell him, “I was gonna put some tangerine in here but I keep getting super sour ones.” 

“They're out of season,” he says, fingers brushing yours as he takes a slice of banana. He swears, it zings. 

“I should know that. You know everything.” You leave a little strawberry print on the back of his hand, unnoticed, and he knows he's fucked when he lets it dry there in the shape of your finger. 

Somewhere between fruit slices and your chatter your chair grows closer to his, your knee pressed to knee without remorse, your elbow a whisper from his as you lean back in your chair. “So, bad day?” you ask. 

“What makes you think that?” 

You tap the space between your brows. He registers the gesture, nearly misunderstands, but eventually he relaxes the set of his brow and his tensed jaw. It's actually a relief. He hadn't realised he was doing it. 

“There,” you say, still smiling softly. “That's better. You'll get a headache, you know?” You sound genuinely worried. “It's not good to be so tense.” 

“Thank you,” he says. James and Sirius order a pizza on speaker across from you both, and, for fear you've missed it, he adds, “Thanks.” 

You needle into him with your elbow gently. “You're welcome. You're handsome when you smile.” 

“Not like you,” he says, “you're brilliant.” 

Your teeth peek out. His chest lifts, you look that happy, and when he smiles back it doesn't feel nearly as taxing as it usually does. 

[rmhashauthor]

"Pet", fiction in 4 parts - Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

All right kids, final warning. We've got manual penetration, dom/sub interaction, and sex with aliens including knotting. Mature readers only, please.

“You know,” Taun paused in the midst of unbuckling his belt, “since you'll be staying I don't think there's any reason to rush things.”

“True, but there's no reason to put it off either.” To be perfectly frank, the more she saw and learned of the Leagan the more she wanted him. And she was curious, what would it feel like? Kira reached for the zipper at the side of her dress – she'd worked for hours on it, swearing each time she stabbed herself with a needle – but Taun's hand stopped hers.

“Please.” That was all. Kira smiled and moved her hand, and Taun silently, solemnly smoothed the fabric over her side before pulling the tab down. Kira slid her hands into the fluff on his belly, parting it with her fingers and hooking her thumbs into the belt-loops on his worn-looking trousers. The hook that held her dress together parted and Taun peeled the green fabric away from her skin. And skin was all he found. “Oh, Kira... Thank you.”

Kira tugged down on Taun's belt-loops, snugging his trousers down over his hips and letting them fall as she pressed her body to his. He felt as good as she'd imagined, a wonder of contrasts – hard muscle and soft fur, powerful grip and gentle touch, the rigid self-control of a soldier and the serenity of an ascetic. He rubbed his hands over her exposed hips, kneading her flanks and thighs with his claws almost totally retracted, leaving a fraction of a millimeter exposed. Goose-bumps rippled over Kira's skin as Taun brought one hand up to palm a tight, warm breast and bent his neck to nuzzle the top of her head. She listened to him breathe deep, wondering what it would be like to have his sense of smell. In a moment, she was lifted off of her feet – Taun's hands hooked under her thighs and he set her on the mat inside the bunk closet. Kira made to push back and slide farther into the dim, cozy nook but Taun stopped her with a gentle “No, pet, I want you right there. You can move when I tell you to.”

Kira's breath caught in her throat – the cool authority in his voice stiffened her spine and zinged electricity from the back of her neck to her toes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” Taun said without missing a beat. He reached out and raised her chin with a finger, bringing her eyes up to his. “I'm going to take care of you, Kira – a good man makes sure his pet has all she needs, and does all he can to keep her happy and safe. I swear to never raise my voice or my hand against you, except in play and only if you allow it. I am never permitted to ignore you, disrespect you or coerce you and I will not tolerate it from anyone else. Until and unless you decide to part ways with me I am your caretaker, companion, protector and lover – you will have all of my attention, affection, devotion and trust for as long as you wish. All I ask is that you're loyal to me, that you trust and honor me, and that you speak your mind. I accept full responsibility for your happiness and pleasure and ask for your permission to continue.”

Taun's promise had the same serious, devoted tones of marriage vows, and Kira noticed that the list of his obligations was longer than hers – it seemed that her master was more beholden to her than she was him. Who's in control here? She nodded, shyly at first and then with more courage. “Yes... Master.”

“I think I liked 'sir' better,” Taun smiled. “But, if you prefer Master–“

Kira shook her head sharply, “No, I'll call you Sir. That's honoring you, right?”

“If you like.” Taking his hand from her chin, Taun reached for her hands and raised them. Placing them on the bunk-frame, he said “Keep those there, do not move them. Understood?”

Kira swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

“That's a good girl.” Taun bent and rubbed his cheek on hers, still purring as he got down on his knees before her. His hands slid down her arms, claws half-extending, running along her skin, making her shudder. “You're my good girl, right?”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Her skin prickled and her voice trembled. “I'm your good girl.”

“Yes, you are.” Taun stroked her sides, tickling her ribs with his claws. “Such a sweet girl, too. And so pretty – I love this,” he smoothed a hand through her hair; “and this,” brushed her flushed cheeks with his knuckles; “and these”, he cupped her breasts and teased her nipples. Kira whimpered, gripping the frame; where she sat, the mat under her hips grew damp and warm. Taun continued to talk, touching and caressing her and lavishing her with tender words: “I love those sounds, Kira, they're beautiful. You're beautiful, and you are mine. I want to make sure you keep making those sounds, so if I do anything you don't like I want you to tell me. And if it gets to be too much, I'll stop.” The tips of his claws rippled over her skin, drawing faint lines over her breasts and belly until they dipped down to her thighs. He scratched lightly, dragging down the front and sides of her legs, then set his hands on her knees. “Open up, pet.” Kira parted her knees, trembling. Kneeling before her Taun leaned in and licked her throat, then took her flesh between his teeth. “Good girl,” he murmured against her skin, nipping lightly before moving on. Dipping lower Taun sucked a nipple into his mouth and Kira moaned. “Oh, did you like that?”

She wanted to move, to grab him by the crest and make him kiss her everywhere, but Kira kept her hands on the frame. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good, I did too.”

“Sir?”

Taun paused, looking up from her breast. “What is it, pet?” he asked with audible devotion.

“Kiss me, please?”

The Leagan's deeply violet eyes softened. “Of course.” Straightening his back Taun cupped Kira's face and touched his mouth to hers. To her great surprise and delight, the fuzz on his face lay smoother and flatter than that on his body and his soft, pink nose was warm and dry. When he opened his mouth the short fangs that had pricked her shoulder just moments ago rubbed smooth over her lips, harmless now under his perfect control. Kira hung forward, her hands still on the frame, and buried herself in the kiss while Taun wrapped her in his arms; Taun growled “Good girl,” when she squeezed his waist with her legs. One hand left her face, trailing down between her breasts, over her belly and to her thighs before slipping between and exploring with two fingers. Taun gasped, “Kira! You're drenched! Are you that excited?”

Kira tightened her grip on the bunk-frame and shifted her hips, grinding against Taun's hand. The Leagan narrowed his dark violet eyes and growled, exposing his fangs again in a feral, carnal grin. The hand still at her cheek moved to her jaw, taking a firm but gentle hold while Taun ran out his tongue and laved the side of her neck. Meanwhile, he thrust his fingers inside, seeking her warm, soft center and chuckling when Kira clenched around them. “Now,” Taun rumbled into her ear, “let's see what pretty sounds you make.”

Kira squirmed, mostly to feel the deep fullness inside her, and to rub her legs and chest against Taun's smoky pelt. He felt so good, so big and solid and safe, even as he held her chin in a firm hand and made thunderous noises in her ear. She was secure in his grasp, free to wriggle and writhe with the knowledge that his control was her shelter. Under her the mat grew wetter and Taun's fingers slid and curled in time with her movements, dipping and spreading and searching for the spot that would make her come apart in his hand. He found it and Kira arched her back, thrusting her hips and rocking hard as she drew tight, quivered and released. She wailed, howling with pleasure, and Taun roared back, “Yes! Good girl, Kira, sing for me!” Stars exploded in her belly, a supernova of ecstasy.

Finally, Kira hung her head and sagged against the Leagan's shoulder. Taun pried her hands from the frame and wrapped his arms about her, supporting her while she caught her breath and cleared the spots from her eyes. “Thank... Thank you, Sir.”

Taun stroked and patted her back. “That was beautiful, pet.” He slung her arms over his shoulders, then stood and lifted her from the mat. Kira made groggy attempts to help, but Taun urged her to relax. “Shh, it's all right, I've got you. Rest, pet, you've earned it.” He kissed her cheek and laid her out on the mat, her head lolling and her limbs slack, and laid down beside her. “There, how's that?”

Kira could only mumble. “Mm-hmm...”

“How are you feeling?”

“Mm, good.”

“And how do you feel about...” Taun paused, taking a moment to brush her hair out of her face and wipe sweat from her brow. “...us? Do you still want to come with me?”

“Hmm...” Kira nodded, then sighed deeply. “Yeah, I do.” Taun's breath left him in a rush and he dropped his head to the mat, obviously relieved. Kira cracked one eye at him, “What? I told you I wanted off this rock.”

“Ah, well, I thought you might find me... intense.”

She smiled. “I liked it.”

“I could tell,” Taun chuckled. “The moment I told you I would take care of you, you lit up and I could smell it on you. Have you... played like that before?”

“Only in chat-rooms. Humans are...” She thought about the word she wanted to use, “kind of uptight, you know? Compared to everyone else, I mean.”

“Oh, I know,” Taun trailed a finger down her chest to her navel. “That's why I was so surprised you answered my notice. Though I'm certainly not disappointed.” Flattening his hand Taun stroked her belly and cupped the bottom of a breast, caressing with his thumb. “You play well, pet. I'm happy you're coming with me.”

Kira sighed again, content. “Yeah, well, I'm not gonna miss this rock. Thanks for taking me with you.”

“My pleasure.” Pushing up on his elbow, Taun raised himself over Kira and kissed her brow. “Now then, have you recovered enough? I can wait if you need more time.”

Stretching, Kira shuffled into a comfortable position on her back. She felt great, actually – like after a good workout. Must be the fresh fruit. “I'm good if you are.”

Taun smiled again, a shadow of his earlier animal lust darkening his eyes and teasing his fangs once again; a chill and then a hot tingle flowed up Kira's spine, her body reacting to both the sheer alien-ness of him and his masterful sensuality. If he could make her quiver with just a look and scream with his fingers... Taun sat up and wrapped his hands around her hips, pulling her into position. “This time you don't need to call me 'sir', just 'Taun' will do. I would like you to wrap those legs around me, though – yes, just like that. Good Kira.”

Kira giggled. She felt wonderful, calm and warm and safe, watching her big Leagan stretching briefly before settling in and soaking in the excitement. She peeked downward and her cheeks burned at the sight emerging from its sheath, thick and hard with a swollen base that looked more enormous than it was. “Oh!” she yelped and covered her mouth, startled and giggling nervously. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–“

“That's all right, it's not as scary as it looks. In fact,” he grinned, “I've been told it's quite the opposite.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Kira laughed, feeling better. “Thanks, I didn't want you to think I was laughing at it.”

“Well, you won't be laughing long.” Taun pulled Kira closer by her hips, then propped up on one arm while he guided his cock with the other. He gave her a cautiously optimistic smile. “I, um... I won't make you take it all just yet. I don't want to push you too hard and hurt you.”

Something softened in Kira, perhaps whatever tough outer skin she'd had to build to survive out here on the edge of claimed space. She melted, and when Taun gave a push and sank deep Kira moaned and shuddered as he filled her. “Oh fuck, YES!” Taun also voiced his pleasure, but not in a language Kira spoke or understood. Instead he said something guttural that trailed off into a low snarl, stiff hairs on his back and shoulders standing up and temporarily making him look bigger, wilder, even more feral than the Taun of a few short minutes ago. He braced his hands to either side of Kira's head and his claws extended, and the brief taste of fear made Kira's muscles tighten and heightened the sensation of his cock buried deep in her. Pleasure drowned out the panic, however, and before she could draw breath to scream Kira arched again and plunged back into euphoria. She rode out the first wave by clutching at the softer fur on Taun's chest, and floating back down found him more composed, though glassy-eyed and panting heavily as he slowly rocked his hips. “Are you – oh fuck that's good – okay?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, “you'll get used to that.” He dropped to his elbows one arm at a time, sliding a hand under Kira's neck and rubbing his soft nose on hers. Kira buried her fingers in his pelt at his sides, privately marveling at the lean, rock-hard muscle under all that soft silvery fuzz. She opened her mouth when he kissed her, letting him tug on her lips with his teeth and swallowing his muted growls until her body announced it was ready again with a rippling quiver. Taun pushed back up, his eyes briefly focusing. “Kira, if you think you can–“

“I'll try, just... go slow.”

Taun swallowed, apprehensive. “Right. Tell me if it hurts.” He sat up, widened his stance and hooked his arms under her knees. “Ready?'

Kira nodded, taking a handful of the bedding just in case. Taun pulled, heaving forward as he dragged her towards him, and Kira whimpered as the hard, knotted base first pushed, then spread, and finally breached. There was a brief, sharp sting and Kira sucked in a breath as though waiting for a cramp to pass, then the feeling of complete fullness took over and her head fell back in satisfaction. “Ohh... Oh my God, that's incredible!”

Taun beamed, vivid eyes widening. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Kira twisted and writhed, obsessed with the new, unbelievably gratifying sensation. Each gyration of her hips compounded the pressure from within, and in her already excited state she didn't have to wait long for another liquefying spasm of rapturous pleasure. She bit her lips and rode it as long as she could, one hand gripping the fluff on Taun's iron chest and the other sliding down to feel the hard swell behind her mons pubis. She shuddered and moaned as the Leagan resumed his steady plunging, and Kira flew over the edge with a long, joyous cry. Her toes curled when she touched herself, and the growing tightness in her belly burst into a soothing warmth that went on, and on, and on.

“Kira,” Taun's breath began to hitch, and tremors started in his arms and belly. He clamped his jaws together and every muscle in his body tensed, straining to hold back. “Kira, please–“

“Yes! Oh, fuck yes, Taun!” The tautness swelled again, though whether it was her imminent release or the Leagan's she couldn't be sure. Either way, once it started there would be no stopping it, so Kira took a handful of his pelt and dragged him down. Half a second after, with Taun's hard, heavy body coming to rest on hers, the tension peaked and shattered and it was all Kira could do to not yank out twists of Taun's fur with each crackle and flare. She was vaguely aware of a sticky, viscous wetness coating her fingers and sex, but cared significantly more about the Leagan still pumping away, gradually slowing as the paroxysm wound down to a warm, comforting exhaustion. Taun braced his weight on trembling arms, keeping himself elevated enough so Kira could breathe. He let his head hang, his brow resting on Kira's. He said something in his language, and it sounded like a prayer. “What's that?”

“Hmm? Oh,” he chuckled weakly, “just asking not to die.”

Kira joined him in his feeble laughter. “Mmm, me too. That was... oh my god...”

“Mm-hmm, “Taun sighed contentedly. Kira closed her eyes, sleepily replete, and absently stroked the Leagan's pelt. She smiled when Taun began to purr again, and lazily rubbed his cheek and nose on her face. Best decision ever. Others might think she was crazy, running off to be some alien traveler's pet human, traversing billions of miles as his personal plaything, but it sure beat being stuck on a cold rock while some fourth- or fifth-cousin eyeballed her from across a family gathering and did the genetic math. Taun and his “mobile farm” would be her ticket to a life that wouldn't bore her to death, a life of green plants and open starways, of trade and adventure and maybe a little danger. They might stop on a resort world and Kira could feel a sun on her skin, splash in a natural sea and breathe air that wasn't filtered stale and flavorless. She would have freedom, the ability to make her own choices and decide who and what she wanted to be. And if the price of that was to be Taun's helper, companion and lover, Kira thought it a fair trade.

If you liked this, you may be delighted to learn that I have a COMPLETE BOOK over on Wattpad! It features different characters, but if you liked my style or just really love the idea of consensual relations with Very Big Aliens, then STARFISH just might be something you'll enjoy. And the best part is that it's COMPLETELY FREE to read!

I'm a newbie to this online self-promotion stuff, so if you have the time please consider following me on my Instagram or donating to my Ko-fi. Your support, financial or otherwise, will be greatly appreciated and go towards keeping my ego fed so that I can continue to create stuff like this. Thank you!

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Choco Bombs

First posted: August 3, 2018

Focuses on: Tim Drake and Dick Grayson

My favorite bookmark: "author is a master at advertising and also this is sad"

Tier: Subjectively, quiet. Objectively, middle of the road.

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

We're finally to the end of my BatFam Week 2018 fics. This one was made for the "Hurt/Comfort" prompt and ended up being... Well, you'll see.

There was a person in his kitchen. There wasn’t supposed to be.

I don't remember what the inciting incident was for this fic, creatively speaking. There might not have been one. I do know these were always the opening lines. In fact, it may have been that these lines came first and I had to scramble to figure out what in the world was going on and what came next. Five years later, who's to say.

The person in the kitchen turned. For a moment, Tim’s breath caught as the dim recessed light illuminated black hair, muscular shoulders clad in a subtly expensive button-up, and a small, warm smile. Bruce. But then Tim caught sight of the face. Just Dick.

Whatever happened, I'm 98% sure this part came pretty quickly too because whuff. Mean mean mean. Poor Tim misses his dad so much, only he hasn't even gotten to grieve like the rest of them.

“There’s this new fad going around,” Tim said before Dick could speak. “It’s called knocking. Big hit with your fellow millennials. You should try it sometime.”

I try really hard to avoid pinning down pesky things like dates because we keep aging and these kids... don't. But you have to admit, Dick is a millennial. Although now I'm having a crisis that technically Bruce probably is, too, maybe.

He didn’t know how to navigate this new terrain with Dick. He didn’t like tension, but he didn’t know how to fix it without rolling over, and he wouldn’t give in. He was the injured party here, not Dick.

A fundamental issue for poor Tim here is he has functioned for a long time as a peacemaker, coming in when Dick and Bruce were at odds and the Manor was fundamentally broken. But he's also stubborn as heck.

Bowl located, Tim turned around and noticed with a spiteful zing of satisfaction the way Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. But then Dick noticed him noticing and straightened, smile plastered back on his face.

I wrote this long before The Return was even a glimmer on the horizon of life, but reading back with that in mind... Poor Dick. He's trying.

Tim had learned to cook as a kid. Even though his parents made sure they left enough money for delivery food, he’d liked the idea of filling his big, empty house with warmth and the smell of a good meal. He just... hadn’t had the energy over the last few weeks, that was all.

Nowadays I'm not convinced at all that Tim can cook, but I was still trying to figure out which canon I ascribed to back then.

“What’re you having?” Dick asked. “Choco Bombs?”

Tim held up the bright orange box in answer.

Reese's Puffs FTW

“Hmm?” Dick jerked to attention, elbow buckling before he snapped upright. “Oh. Sorry, Timbo, just... zoning out there, I guess.”

Behold the one and only nickname I will allow for Tim. (It's a family nickname so I'm fond of it.)

Tim fidgeted his spoon between his thumb and forefinger. “The, uh, gig more intense than you thought?” Demon brat giving you a harder time than you anticipated, Dickie dear?

Timothy, your Jason is showing.

The corners of Dick’s mouth tipped upward slightly, like doing more required more effort than he could afford. Leaning forward, he bent and rested his forehead against Tim’s. “I’m not injured, little brother. I’m alright.” Tim’s fingers flexed uselessly as he forced himself to take a breath. “But you’re not,” he murmured.

brotherssssss 😭 Truly, I should do more forehead presses.

“I’m sorry, I know I screwed up with how I handled you and Damian. I don’t know what else I could have done, but I know—And now you’re not talking to me, and Jason is AWOL, and it’s like I’ve lost my brother again, but it’s both of you this time. Damian hates me. Alfred... I’ve never seen him look so old. And my dad is dead. Again.”

...

But Dick. Dick had adored his parents, and into the jagged hole their deaths had left, Bruce had appeared and filled the gap to keep Dick from falling after them. Regardless of their weird, part-paternal, part-fraternal relationship, Bruce really had been Dick’s dad for the majority of Dick’s life. And now he was gone too. Tim knew. But he couldn’t imagine. My dad is dead.

Oh, I was wrong before. These bits. Dick talking about his losing his dad again, that's what incited this fic. I will bet dollars to donuts I had a text meltdown on @starknjarvis27, jotted a couple notes to myself, and then had those first two lines smack me like a bolt from the blue.

Does this fic in the end toooootally mesh with what I unpack in The Return? Not really. Is what it is.

[varikvamp]

So... here we are, with more fanfic shorts. Again it is TaS and this time it's fluff ♡~ this one is Toji x MC, I'll be using more gender neutral terms here so no one is left out :3 please enjoy!

And I've realized a theme, I've said it before, I listen to music when I write and with the last two the perfect songs came on to set my mood... well, it happened again. It's the second song to come up and it's none other then My Zing from Hotel Transylvania... so yea... of course it was on repeat this entire time xD

◇◇◇

Looking around the Guild Hideout you noticed someone missing. It made you frown a bit. Toji still wasn't coming in much. He did seem a bit strange lately. You had noted his actions as of late, it was almost like he was avoiding you. Had you said something? Was he upset? A lot had happened after all, you wouldn't be surprised if he was. That's when your lips curled into a small grin. Well, you'll just have to go and cheer him up! He is one of the very special people in your life after all. So after going over everything that you needed to, you gathered your things and headed to your room for a moment.

While you were there you grabbed a few things, mainly two bento that you had made that morning. You made them just for occasions like this, when you would be out for a while with your friends. Getting on your phone you brought up the app, and used it to see where Toji was. He was a guild member so it was easy to find him. After you did you nodded and left your dorm and the grounds grinning the entire time. Surely he'd be happy to see you.

~~~~

Toji was kind of avoiding the guild, as for why? He couldn't be certain. All he knew was that whenever he saw you or was around you he felt his chest tighen and he got nervous. He enjoyed your company but at the same time he didn't understand why his body reacted like that. He didn't think he could face you properly until he figured it out. And he wouldn't dare ask anyone either, he knew all they would do was tease him. He was sitting by himself, katanas laid beside him. After finishing some training he liked to sit and relax in the shade for a few.

As he did he heard footsteps walking up to him, his hand instinctively went to his katanas but halted when he saw it was you. He stared, his eyes glued to you. He watched as you sat down and smiled at him. That feeling started to bubble up, his chest tightening. It wasn't bad but it was strange. But, what were you doing here? He didn't understand why you had come to see him and didn't even send a text first.

"Did you just get done training?" You asked bringing him back to the moment. You were sitting by him now, holding out a... a bento? You brought him a bento? Finally finding his voice he looked away and took it, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks. "Yeah, what are you doing over here anyway? It's dangerous for you to be out by yourself. Your prone to causing trouble." You feigned a hurt gasp and looked at him. But then you laughed a little.

"Awe, you do care." You teased and playfully hit his shoulder Making him look at you with a slight glare. "Haha~ well, I'm here because I was worried. So I decided to come see if you were OK and spend the day with you! We haven't had much time to talk or hang out properly." You promptly handed him a popsicle that you bought since the day was warm. You were right to, when you saw Toji you noticed he was sweating and his cheeks were flushed. That gave you the indication he had finished training for the day. He eyed the popsicle before taking it.

Toji didn't have many words. His heart was pending and all he could do was.. well, he didn't know. He eyed the bento his hand holding it like it was going to break if he moved to suddenly. His chest from being tight to feeling warm. He was already worked up from his exercises so the flush of new heat only made his body feel hotter then it already was. But wait.. you were.. worried about him? Hang out? Spend the rest of the day with you?

"Don't you have guild stuff to take care of."

"Yeah, that includes you."

Toji got flustered then, ripping open the popsicle wrapper and almost losing the cold blue delight. You held back a laugh as he looked at you. Toji on the other hand couldn't believe what he heard. And that smug look on your face only added to his... frustration? Embarrassment? He couldn't tell but he reacted in the only way he knew how.

"Your the one who needs to be taken care of, you cause trouble no matter where you go! You can't be left along for five minutes without something happening..." He stopped himself and looked away, frowning In a cute flustered way.

"Sooo~ are you saying you want to take care of me?" You teased him slyly, that mischievous grin playing on your lips as your eyes narrowed while looking at him. Tojis already red face now burned more, his ears turning red and it spread down his neck. "W... well who else is going to do it! Everyone else seems just fine with letting you do whatever you want." He opened the bento, being surprisingly gentle for someone who was so worked up. It was something you took note of immediately. With a swift motion you took the box from him and picked up a some of the rice there. Then you held it up to him looking at him through lidded eyes as you smiled.

"Well then you better stop leaving me alone so much~ Now open up, your tired right? Must be, your face is very red plus your hot and sweaty, you worked hard." Now you were intentionally trying to frustrate him. But, to your surprise Toji opened his mouth and took a bite. He was still obviously flustered. He then looked at you only to look away. "What? Your the one who offered..." But then his gaze was back on you as he looked like he was trying to find the right words.

"And... fine! But don't expect me to just let you do anything you want -" He was cut off by you setting down the bento and pulling him into a hug. "I'd be lucky to have you by me~" Toji swore his heart stopped for a moment. His hands shook as he hugged you back. His face burrowed into your neck. "Damn you.." He whispered and you laughed a little. "Don't be like that~" you said and pulled back.

"I really do want you with me." You looked into his eyes and it took everything he had not to look away. He knew for a while now that he liked you, maybe that was why he tried avoiding you. But it was obvious that wasn't going to work. Besides, he actually enjoyed your company, he liked being around you. He wanted to be near you, to protect you.

And most importantly, he wanted to be the one to care for you.

♡♡♡♡

Sorry it's a bit short ;^-^ but I hope you like it either way!

[cartoonfangirl1218]

I seriously want  EoA to do a recap like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3ZG5ftivig

I mean technically we got that with Armando and Marlena's Long May She Reign song in the finale but this one just has a certain feel to it. . . or I'm just biased in wanting Eoa to do a Galavant song.

If you missed last week's show Or if you're slightly slow Here's what came previously in Avalor: The Princess Isabel Came searching for this fella The washed-up hero known as Gabe.

Now, Elena's gotten him to lend a hand To oust their cousin who's seized her land But zing! She's working for the king! The trap's about to spring! But that's not everything, 'cause...

Our new ally only came To save her dad  Turned to stone by his cruel ex wife  Sweet Ash, though Has lost her motherly glow In fact, she's tilting pretty sharply bitchward

She's the malvago, who wants to win her heart and Rip our hero's world apart and That is where I leave you at So hold onto your hat 'Cause here's what's next for Elenaaaaaaaa-of Ava-looooooor!

And then this recap (my favorite of all the Galavant recaps): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyap39SVuFU

The plot is gaining steam So back to this old theme Here's what's been happening in Avalor!

When we saw Elena last This guy had been outcast He vowed revenge and fled to Ash Delgado He pled to her parlais The Dark Dark Evil Way Esteban's against it, but the woman's insaner

Will she use it and go overboard? Not if the man who wields this scepter Stands tall The hero that they call The one true queen of all Which brings us back to Gabriel

And! Our captain plows ahead His army's kinda dead And yet his energy is far from flaggin' Wizard Mateo rides with Gal Bringing his little apprentice Which may or may not be a professional wizard Plus he's got the tamborita, which you'll recall Means he's the wizard who'll rule them all And so! To war three armies go! One evil, one so-so One dead and led by Gabriel!

Will Victor kill his former wife? Who stole friend and power, And made him look buffoony

Can Esteban still win back his family's again? True, they're more than likely through Unless he can redo That really awful betrayal and lying. . . 

And then he goes who-knows-where Him and his awesome hair Seeking redemption for a little while, and

Naomi said goodbye Since she has her own dreams  And now she's on her way to Soledad Island

Gosh! So much to dump upon your doormat In our half-hour sitcom format Still There's plot holes we must fill And though I doubt we will We're gonna try on Elena of Avaaalllooooooor!

[jainsuperstore]

5 Must-Try Essential Oils This Winter

Aromatic substances discovered in plants have many applications. They are used in cooking spas, massage, and beauty treatments and cleaning products to natural flea repellents on pets and many more essential oils provide numerous advantages. They can be utilized in a variety of ways, including inhaling straight from the bottle to diffusers, application to the skin after being diluted by a carrier oil such as coconut or jojoba oils, adding to bath water, and inhalation using steam. If handled properly and stored with proper methods and careful dilution rate guidelines based on age essential oils can add benefit to many aspects of our lives.6 Essential Oils That Are Must-Try This WinterThe winter months bring itchy skin, colds, and sinuses that are blocked. Essential oils offer natural relief for the body throughout this season with soothing but effective effects. They can be utilized in a variety of ways, by adding them to bath water to provide a relaxing experience, adding a few drops to an oil diffuser to experience aromatherapy, or mixing with other oils to use topically. Essential oils can help manage the various winter conditions that are otherwise difficult to manage. This is the reason they're so popular for keeping well-being throughout the colder winter months.1. Eucalyptus oil

When the temperature begins to drop is time to start thinking of ways to stay warm and cozy through the cold winter months. A lot of people find this out through aromatherapy with the aid of essential oils such as eucalyptus oil. If you decide to diffuse it around your house, mix it with massage oils or spritz your body during a shower it has a pleasant woody smell that will give you an ambiance of comfort in the cold winter months. Its many applications are making it more well-known as more and more people begin to research scent-based remedies for winter blues. When deciding which items you'll include in your winter health kit this year, be sure to look for eucalyptus oils for an instant boost in the mood!2. Peppermint oil

Peppermint oil is essential for this cold winter. Its minty and aromatic aroma will refresh any room within a matter of minutes. If it is diffused or as a component of DIY cleaning supplies, or sprinkled onto a piece of fabric, this oil could add a refreshing zing and shine to your winter décor. The refreshing scent helps brighten up any space and boost your mood! With so many uses, peppermint oil can be vital to your home throughout the cold winter months.3. Lavender oil

Lavender oil has been an essential oil of choice for fans all over the world. Its earthy and calming scent of lavender oils is incredibly versatile. They may be massaged into the air, incorporated into skin-care products, homemade cleaning solutions, and much more! As winter approaches lavender oil is beneficial because its scent helps to provide feelings of relaxation in the cold winter weather. The best part is that because of the wide range of lavender oils that are available, there's bound to be something to suit anyone! Whatever you decide to go with-certified organic, French-grown, or French-grown, you can be sure that using it in the winter is a way to give yourself warmth and calm.4. Rosemary oil

Rosemary oil is among the most popular essential oils used in winter. Its pleasant earthy aroma can be utilized in aromas and perfumes, or used in candles and soaps. For those who like essential oils, you can also utilize this versatile oil to aid in aromatherapy for massage. The rosemary oil blends beautifully with lavender, oregano lemon, and peppermint along with juniper, clary Sage and eucalyptus. They provide different scents all through winter.5. Thyme oil

Winter is a season that is full of traditional flavours. It is a time to celebrate the presence of the past and traditional scents to create festive ambiences. One of the scents to not miss is thyme oil. It is typically employed as an aromatic spice for cooking but also brings warmth and energy in any time of the year. With its herbaceous, earthy scent, it provides warm scents to any room and is particularly pleasant during the winter months when outdoor areas aren't being used. To enjoy its scent alone the thyme scent is among the best oils to explore this winter if you're looking to enjoy the holiday spirit in your own home or take pleasure in the refreshing zing of it.How To Choose The Best Essential Oil This Winter?The right essential oil could transform your winter routine. There are many factors to consider when choosing essential oils for use, including the type of oil blend, or single scent, as well as personal preferences. To get the most effective results it is recommended to consult with an expert aromatherapist regarding the most suitable oil for your particular needs is essential. Before buying an essential oil it's recommended to research what kind of application is appropriate for the specific use you are looking for - diffuse or topical. Once you've found an essential oil that you feel familiar with, you should step out of your comfort zone once in a while and look into what other options the market has to offer!

Content Source - 5 Must-Try Essential Oils This Winter

[delhidarshan1]

Discovering Delhi's Gems: An Unforgettable One-Day Car Tour Package

Delhi, the vibrant capital city of India, is a tapestry of history, culture, and architectural wonders. If you have just a day to spare, fear not, for a well-crafted one-day car tour package is all you need to embark on an unforgettable journey through the city's enchanting sights. Let's dive into the essence of Delhi and explore the captivating attractions that await you.

Effortless Exploration: Opting for a one-day car tour package in Delhi ensures a seamless and hassle-free experience. With a professional driver at the wheel, you can leave the logistics to them and focus solely on immersing yourself in the city's magic. Sit back, relax, and let the expert guide navigate you through the streets, ensuring you cover the key landmarks efficiently and make the most of your precious time.

Unveiling the Mystique of Old Delhi: Begin your adventure in the historic enclave of Old Delhi, where the city's rich heritage comes alive. Marvel at the grandeur of the Red Fort, a majestic fortress that once housed Mughal emperors. As you explore the bustling streets of Chandni Chowk, a sensory overload of colors, aromas, and sounds awaits you. Indulge in delectable street food delights like spicy chaat, mouthwatering kebabs, and traditional sweets, experiencing the true essence of Old Delhi. A visit to the iconic Jama Masjid, one of the largest mosques in India, offers a serene and awe-inspiring experience.

Immersing in the Splendors of New Delhi: Transitioning to New Delhi, you'll witness the city's colonial past and modern aspirations. Drive along the tree-lined boulevards and catch a glimpse of the magnificent India Gate, a memorial dedicated to Indian soldiers. Explore the serene beauty of Rajpath, flanked by impressive government buildings, leading to the majestic Rashtrapati Bhavan, the President's official residence. Admire the architectural marvel of the Lotus Temple, where tranquility and spirituality converge. A visit to the sprawling and lush Lodhi Gardens provides a peaceful respite amidst historical monuments and beautifully landscaped gardens.

Cultural and Artistic Marvels: Delhi's cultural landscape is vast and diverse, and your tour can include visits to renowned cultural institutions. Immerse yourself in the rich heritage at the National Museum, where a treasure trove of art, artifacts, and historical relics awaits. The National Handicrafts and Handlooms Museum is a paradise for lovers of traditional Indian textiles and crafts. If you have an affinity for art, a visit to the National Gallery of Modern Art will leave you inspired with its impressive collection of contemporary Indian art.

A Gastronomic Odyssey: Delhi's culinary scene is legendary, and your one-day tour package provides an opportunity to indulge in its flavors. From famous street food joints to fine dining establishments, the city offers a culinary odyssey. Savor aromatic biryanis, buttery naans, flavorful curries, and delectable sweets that tantalize your taste buds. Don't miss the opportunity to sample Delhi's beloved street snacks like golgappas, aloo tikki, and spicy chaat that add an extra zing to your gastronomic adventure.

Conclusion: A one day car tour package in Delhi unveils the city's myriad treasures, allowing you to delve into its history, culture, and culinary delights. From the historic lanes of Old Delhi to the grandeur of New Delhi's landmarks, every moment spent exploring this vibrant city will leave an indelible mark on your memories. With a well-planned itinerary, the convenience of private transportation, and a local expert guiding your journey, this is the perfect way

[tinknevertalks]

3 characters: Samantha Carter!! (your icon and also I love the tag squishy for her face lol), Helen Magnus (similar and also i swear i’m gonna read the dancing story soon i promise!)....and probably Nikola lol. He follows Helen, I can’t help it! Oh also Lin from your one story. Awesome OC

XD Yaay! Four characters! And yeah, Nikola follows Helen everywhere. XD

[honeycombstrawberry]

in your arms tonight

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: t+

word count: 2,161

one-sentence synopsis: five different ways adrian picks you up and holds you.

author's note: okay look. look i was originally just going to post a thought i had about adrian carrying you. then i was gonna post it with a gif i found. then i decided to write a 5 parter and find gifs for every part but it would just be a headcanon thread on tumblr. now it's this entire 2k fic that's mostly just small moments and also gif references for each section (sorry they're not all faceless/aesthetic!). i'm so sorry i don't know what happened i wrote this entirely on my phone while exhausted and stoned at 9pm

read on ao3!

i.

"Ow, shit," you curse from the ground, examining your ankle. It's really not that bad, barely a twist, but it hurts like a motherfucker.

Adrian comes sprinting up to your side, tearing his mask off his face. He kneels at your side, says, "Fuck, I'm so sorry— I'm so, so sorry—"

"What're you sorry for?" you ask him, pushing to sit up properly. You shift to get your leg in front of you, reaching to roll your sock down so you can actually inspect the joint of your ankle. "It wasn't your fault I fell down the fucking hill."

"I didn't catch you," Adrian says, his voice so genuinely upset that you glance upwards with a furrowed brow.

He seems like he's actually blaming himself for this, and you frown slightly. "You were too far away to catch me, Adrian. Besides," you remind him, returning your attention downwards, "It was my stupid mistake."

Adrian crouches down beside you. He reaches with his gloved hands for your ankle. His touch is a little too rough, at first, and you suck a pained breath in through your teeth. He makes a face, then gentle his touch, trying again. This time, you can see his determination not to hurt you as he tenderly takes your ankle between his hands, rolling it slightly to feel for damage.

"I think you'll be okay," Adrian says.

"If this had been you, you'd already be running again," you point out. Adrian scoffs. "Well, you would."

"That's beside the point." Adrian shifts and says, "Brace yourself, babe," and gets his arms under you.

You grit your teeth, and he scoops you up, fixing one arm beneath your legs, another under your back. You push your head into his chest, breathing through the pain as you adjust to the position you have in his arms. You feel safe here, held, and you bring your arms up around his throat, pressed close to him.

"I'll bring you back to Chris'," Adrian says, already navigating you back through the maze of broken shit they keep in the woods. "He's got ice and stuff there."

You drop your head down again, clinging close, letting him carry you out.

ii.

Adrian has been gone for a few days when you hear the front door open and close a little before noon.

You lift your head, already pushing to stand, excited. You've been waiting for him to get back; you've missed him horribly while he was on his op. It's not enough to just see him through your video calls on your phones. You need him here, with you.

The sounds of Adrian jogging through the house are obvious, and you rush to find him. You meet each other across the kitchen, eyes connecting from other sides of the room.

"Hey," you breathe. You can feel an electric zing zap down your spine just for seeing him again, here, in the flesh.

Adrian's already running at you, crouching just before he gets to you so he can get his hands under your thighs, scooping you up into his arms. You move automatically, wrapping your legs around his waist, tight around his hips. You can't help drawing him in, hands firm on him, tugging him into a rough kiss.

He shoves you backwards, hands threading up beneath your shirt to trace over the bare skin of your back as he pushes you up into the wall. The blaze of his warm skin has you melting into him.

"Fuck," you murmur, "I missed you so fucking much."

Adrian drags his mouth down, kissing along your jaw, down your throat, biting into your lip, sucking a bruise into the soft skin he finds.

"Same," he gasps out against your flesh. He can't stop pushing into you, desperate hands tearing at you, desperate to have you higher, closer, harder, firmer, now—

iii.

You sigh, staring tiredly out the car window into headquarters. The rest of the 11th Street Kids are already heading inside, but you haven't moved from your spot inside the car you'd all driven here in. You're just so exhausted.

Adrian turns to his side, halfway through saying something, then realizes you're not there. You watch with a small smile as he looks around, confused. His head whips around before he spots you in the car still; he tilts slightly to the side, bewildered, then jogs back over to the car.

For a moment, you just stare up at him. Then, you reach to push the button to let the window roll down.

Adrian leans in the open window. "Hey, there."

"Hi," you reply, letting your head fall back against the headrest.

Neither of you speak, for a beat, as Adrian waits for you to continue. When it becomes clear you're done speaking, he lets his legs spread a bit, halfway to the splits so he can shuffle his way down to propping his chin up on his folded arms in the open window.

Observing you with a tilted head, Adrian asks, "You okay?"

You nod sleepily. You're about to answer, but you're cut off by a yawn. You cover your face with your hands, scrubbing at your eyes.

"Aww," Adrian coos. You absently brush at him, but he avoids your hands, ducking in to drag his cheek along yours, rubbing his face into yours. You sigh, smiling, leaning into him. "You sleepy?"

You nod, tipping into him.

"Here," he says. "Lemme help."

He stands upright again, reaching through the open window to open the car door from the inside. Hauling it open, he shuts the window for you, then examines you.

After a moment, he turns and takes a knee.

You don't move, bewildered, watching him kneel down beside the car.

He twists backwards, looking over his shoulder, then reaches to pat his own back. "C'mon, hop on, let's go. Train's leaving the station."

"No, you don't have to—" you start to protest.

"Just come on," Adrian repeats. When you hesitate, he assures you, "I want to," then pats at his own shoulder again.

Hesitantly, you do as he says, moving your sluggish limbs to wrap around him from behind. He wraps his hands under your legs, hoisting you up easily onto his back, as if you weigh nothing at all.

You bury your face in his throat, yawning again as you manage to move your tired limbs to wrap around Adrian everywhere you can reach.

He twists to kiss your cheek, pushing to stand. When he kicks the car door shut behind himself, he doesn't even displace you, keeping you easily in place on his back. You smile, letting your eyes close. It's been a long fucking couple of weeks on this mission; you're tired.

Adrian carries you inside without a comment. When you're in, you hear Chris ask, "What is—" before Adrian shushes him to tell him you're sleeping. You smile again, pushing in closer and tighter to him.I've.

iv.

Adrian's scream of your name echoes through the alleyway you're all in, resonating around all of you in surround sound—

—except you.

You were just attacked from behind when you weren't expecting it, already engaged in battle with three different people in front of you. You hadn't noticed the fourth person coming up behind you, knocking you out flat unconscious, letting your body slump down to the ground, limp, weakened.

He doesn't know what's just happened. The 11th Street Kids were outnumbered; everyone had been in their own fights. When he sees you go down, he's halfway through his own altercation, but everything shifts when he sees what happened to you.

It sounds like your name is still echoing in the alley in his voice as he pulls a sword off his back and brings it swinging through the men he's fighting with. Everyone else in the alley goes down in a matter of minutes, their end met by Adrian's blade.

When nobody is left breathing, he doesn't even hesitate. The rest of the alley, the bodies in it, even the other 11th Street Kids— they all fade into the background, nothing more than a haze and white noise.

He rushes past them all to get to you, to where you're laying in an unconscious heap on the dirty ground. For a moment, his hands just hover over you, unsure what to do.

Then, he's tearing his mask off, using his teeth to bite his gloves off. He drops down, gathers you close, turning you onto your back so he can pull you into his lap. He checks for your pulse, exhaling a shaky rush of shuddering relief when he actually fucking finds it.

"Thank fuck," Adrian breathes. He drags his hands to your face, cradling your head between his palms, sweeping his thumbs along your cheeks. He pushes your foreheads together, then your lips, desperate. "Thank fucking God."

Emilia comes sprinting up behind him, demanding, "What happened?"

Adrian tilts back from you slightly, stroking your hair back off your face. After only a beat, he scoops you up into his arms. You're all dead weight, unconscious and dangling from his hold; he doesn't release you, instead gathering you even closer, tucked against his chest.

"We need medical attention now," Adrian demands, already carrying you towards the van you'd all taken to get here. When he realizes nobody else is moving, he shouts a sharp, "Let's go," over his shoulder.

He refuses to let you go, carrying you all the way to the van and inside it, jumping up into the back without dislodging you. He keeps you there the entire ride to the hospital, you held close in his lap as he tries to help you without letting you go.

v.

You can't stop laughing, even though Adrian's only halfway through his story.

"What the fuck?" John laughs. You can tell Adrian's feeding off of all the attention, the way all of the 11th Street Kids are laughing at his story as he's telling it. The delight flushes his face; you can't help the warmth that swells inside you just for seeing it.

"No, you didn't," Leota says. She's grinning, too, and Adrian slams his hands on the table.

"I did," he insists. He throws one hand out in a wild gesture. "Just— Thwip, right there in front of everyone."

"Fuck, no," Chris laughs, clapping Adrian on the shoulder. He's practically beaming.

You don't even think. You agree, "No, it's true. That's part of why I love him," and the words just spill out.

You've never said that before, though. And you only realize it belatedly, after a long beat where Adrian's laughter stops abruptly and his eyes meet yours and everybody becomes silent as they realize his energy has almost completely changed.

Into the briefly stunned silence, Adrian asks, "What?"

You don't entirely know how to respond, unsure how to read his tone when you're stunned by yourself, too. Panicking, you say, "I did— I'm sorry, I sh—"

"No! What? No," Adrian insists immediately. He pushes up from the table, and you stare up at him, heart racing, eyes wide. "What'd you say, what— What was— What?"

You stare at each other for a long moment. You think you can read him, can feel the tentative hope and dawning joy. It feels so much like the same emotions growing inside of you.

Smiling, you tell him, "I love you," and he's already launching over the table. Everybody else is shouting, but you're laughing as he tackles you backwards, pinning you to the floor, kissing you everywhere you can reach. It takes a beat before he's willing to separate, and even then it's just so he can speak for a second.

"I love you, too," Adrian tells you, overjoyed. "Oh, fuck, I love you so fucking much, I'm so glad I can tell you now, holy shit—"

You laugh again, letting Adrian drag you in for another kiss. He's pressing you flat on the ground; after a beat, his hips roll automatically into yours.

"Jesus, get a fucking room," Emilia scolds you both. You can hear the levity in her tone, as well as the genuine instruction.

"Okay," Adrian agrees easily. He leaps to his feet, hauling you up with him. You let him guide you, already laughing again.

Adrian crouches, then scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You can see the rest of the team for a moment, though upside-down and sideways. You throw a wave at them as Adrian heads for the door.

"Bye," you shout to them.

"Bye!" Leota calls after you. "Love you, too!"

"Love you!" Adrian says back, the door slamming shut behind him as he takes you from the room, still slung over his shoulder, his strong arm wrapped around your legs. "But I love you more."

"Love you most," you promise him, and he jostles you a bit, then twists to kiss your side. He laughs again, overjoyed, and doesn't let you go.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@deputyrook @bb-skyrunner @himboelover @pieriinova @gcldtom @violetrainbow412-blog @amysuemc @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25 @eviejune @vigilantesluvr @qjuiq-odakyu @xothatnerdykid @awkwardfangirl2014 @thevalkyrior @mattsmanpain @sunflowerfive @deirdre-belle @anthonyedwinstark @sexysquatch @jelliebeanss @zofps @crimscnrains @trans-librarian @nellethiel-aranel @probablyasatanworshipper @phoenixhalliwell @perseajohnson @eeveeangelcakes @freyafriggafrey @psychadelictoadie @middimidoris @gaygonegirl @herbsschmerbs @satansrighthandmanchild @seeking-a-great--perhaps @ev-june @bvcksmurdock

[helloliriels]

Hello Updates May '22

How is it almost June?!! Started a new job, yay! Broke my laptop (💔 nooo!!), and can't focus for beans. So ... Haha, here's a quick update:

SPIN THE BOTTLE

The FINAL chapter is up! Catch up on where we left off, if you've missed any spins ...here! 🍾

| Johnlock | Strip Games | 221b | Love Confessions | M

(NOT SO) FAKE FIC TITLES

For the 💌 ask game that got out of hand (in the best possible way!) There are now 110 entries!?! Some may turn into *full fics*. Catch up on any missed ...here! Or comment if you'd like more!

| Ask Games | Fic Summaries | Angst & Fluff | Liri Answers |

PAYPHONE

A series of oneshots and fix-its to BBC canon, available ...here! More will be added later! ☎️ Johnlock is calling. "I'm at a payphone ..."

| Fix it Fics | Canon Divergence | Love Confessions | Phones |

THE CRACK FIC CAMPAIGN IS ON!!!

The Year of the Crack Fic challenge is still running! Top entries so far:

Speak Now - @raina-at with 262 kudos and over 1,000 hits already!!! 👏 👏 👏

No matter the chase, it's you by my side - Yuliares with 157!

Zing and You'll Miss It! - @raina-at (oooh!!!) with 146!

Snow Angels, Baker Street Style - @fawnhickory with 126!

Love at First Bite - @fluffbyday-smutbynight with 118!

Submit your crack fic entry now thru Dec 31st! Win fanart by helloliriels! Sherlock, Johnlock, or Mystrade entries welcome! (*hint* there may be more than one winner here!) 🥳🎉

| Any length | Any rating | Sherlock | Johnlock | Mystrade |

All WIPs on AO3 are due updates, including:

(I Love You) Infinitely \ Christmas in Honeycutt \ You Can See Me \ Do Not Download The Souls \ Hurt for Me \ Without A You \ Rarified \ Give Me A Reason \ HP Crossover \ Juxta PODFIC

A HUGE THANK YOU TO FLUFF FOR BETA!! (Wha??!! On all these? 💕 I don't say it enough)

As always, inbox OPEN for any questions!!

xoxo 💋 - Liri

Please do let me know if you want especially tagged on any of these fics in progress? (Or in general) I AM keeping a list now! Also, updates will post on Tue/Thu/Sun schedule moving forward (to keep me on track!) ... I feel like this is not too bad a list once I'm looking at it!

@johnlocky @chinike @rhasima @meetinginsamarra @chriscalledmesweetie @totallysilvergirl @arwamachine @peanitbear @2smach @glows-n-the-dark @whatnext2020 @kettykika78 @ohlooktheresabee @discordantwords @calaisreno @sherlockedcarmilla @simplyclockwork @therealsaintscully @kitten-kin @writingloud @bluebellofbakerstreet @inevitably-johnlocked @7-percent @shelleysprometheus @masterofhounds @dragonnan @missdeliadili @angrybagginshieldbakery @eplapourdissant @thedeadedhooman @demonicangeling @thequirkyotter @johannadc @queerbaitingshouldbeillegal @iamjustreading @sassy-little-hedgehog @luciengenic @purplevatican @dinner--starving @jawnn-watson @myopicmeerkat @geekinator @amyreadsandstresses @sarahthecoat @hp-nv-221b-3000 @hasenkind687

[raina-at]

I thought of writing a Halloween fic, and then it occurred to me that I already did when someone else recced it. *facepalm*

It's a vampire AU as well, only it's more of a romcom than anything else, and it's also a Hotel Transylvania AU, so. Yeah. Not very scary at all.

It's called Zing and You'll Miss It, if you're in the mood for some silly monster fun tonight.

[lovelylogans]

the warmth of your doorways (i’ll find my way back to you)

It can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh, please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't afford I warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born You'll hear me howling outside your door

—”it will come back,” hozier

⁂

pairings: patton/virgil/logan word count: 5,470 rating: teen and up audiences (based on ao3 ratings, find explanations here) warnings: magic, kissing, making out, brief consensual possession, non-explicit mention of killing someone/murder, please let me know if i’ve missed any

notes: this is my secret santa gift for @phantomofthesanderssides​ on tumblr through a mutual server of ours! i must give some credit to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, whose portrayal of “mother” in love and other fairytales was the basis of virgil in this fic.

⁂

Patton is pretty sure one can tell from the everything about him that he is a big fan of everything cute and cuddly, which is half the reason he got a job at Amalthea’s Menagerie of Ordinary and Extraordinary Creatures.

The other half might have something to do with the fluffy-haired, no-nonsense barista at Tassology, the coffee shop just across the street.

The third half (look, Patton’s not good at math) might have something to do with the proximity of both the pet shop and the coffee shop to the old Whitesummer Coppice, having long been abandoned and grown wild with ivy climbing gnarled trees, thickets of fall asters, and honeysuckle bushes that grew dense with flowers, if the Coppice liked you and if you knew where to look.

Well. Abandoned, chased off. Half the reason Amalthea’s Menagerie was so close to the Coppice was because of all the local legends of what had really happened to the mysteriously vanished Whitesummers when they’d bought and tried to cut back the forest.

It was a place befitting the supernatural, and it also meant that customers were too frightened of myths to get too snippety over the wavering prices of direwolf food when they noticed a worker was wearing the traditional symbol of being a protectorate of the Coppice, a necklace that looks to be made of tiny silver ivy leaves twining along a chain. 

(Honestly, they’re giant wolves, Patton’s pretty sure people should factor in the cost of feeding them when considering getting one. And Amalthea’s doesn’t even sell direwolves! He has no idea why they stock feed for them!)

Patton guesses that most people probably would be frightened of shadows stealing them out of their beds as revenge enacted on behalf of the local populace of the Coppice. And also maybe of the Coppice itself, though most people only guessed at that. Patton’s exceptionally pleased that he’s not most people.

But anyways, Patton questions his decision to work at the Menagerie on days when those devilishly cute but devilishly clever wolpertingers manage to escape from their holding pen again and it means that Patton has to chase them around for half his shift. Patton is built for leisure, okay, not the cardio that comes with scrambling after winged, antlered hare-squirrels with fangs.

His shift is over by the time he manages to secure the last wolpertinger into its pen.

“You darn rascals,” Patton grumbles as he makes sure the latch is magically sealed again, feeling the slightly uncomfortable zing of magic buzz through his fingers as confirmation. 

He really does intend to look stern, so they understand they shouldn’t do this again, then immediately caves at the sight of a cute bunny face and reaches in to scratch between his antlers. 

He is pining for a drink at Tassology—now that it’s winter, probably a peppermint mocha with extra whip, chocolate shavings, and crunchy peppermint bits. Maybe he’ll get a pastry too, since it’s close to teatime; the idea cheers him up to the point where his attitude toward the wolpertingers is less ugh and more oh, you kids!

All right. And he maybe definitely wants to go see his favorite barista.

“Bye, Thea!” He calls to his boss on his way out of the door, who barely looks up from her latest copy of The Modern Witch magazine; he can only see the snakes that serve as Amalthea’s hair, which writhe in farewell. 

“C’mon, lazybones,” Patton says fondly to his own familiar, who has been absolutely no help with the wolpertingers, or much at all. Pumpkin, his big, fat, orange tabby of a familiar is mostly there to look cute. Much like Patton would like to be, really.

Pumpkin yawns as he painstakingly removes himself from one of the cat trees for sale, plodding toward him slowly before mashing his cheek into his shin, rubbing against him, before he starts twining around his ankles. Patton sneezes, bends, and picks him up, cradling him in his arms as he sets off for Tassology.

Patton’s technically a witch, but not the sort of witch that people set out to have them solve world-ending problems or break curses; Patton’s style of witchery is much more like Strega Nona and her magic pasta pot. 

He’s actually been pretty successful in making one, but the pot he’s trying to enchant only makes one style of pasta. He can do a lot of household magic, brew up the occasional tincture, or cast some pretty basic healing spells, and he’s magical enough to maintain a connection link to a familiar, but that’s about it, really. 

He’s comfortable with that, even if his favorite barista would certainly like to see Patton try to get out of his magical comfort zone.

Tassology is one of two coffee shops near the Coppice proper; most of the others are clustered around Astrelons, the Academy of the Arcane that lies on the very outskirts of the city and therefore close to the Coppice. Tassology is a particular favorite for wizarding students who live off-campus; it’s staffed entirely by wizards, students and adults. Patton backs into the door to push it open with his hip so that he doesn’t have to put Pumpkin down onto the cold ground because if he does Pumpkin will start yowling and pouting about wet, cold paws for ages. 

Patton sighs happily as he’s engulfed by the warm, coffee-scented air of Tassology. 

Tassology is like someone plucked a wizard’s sanctum out of a tower and plopped it into a coffee shop; the wall is dark, decorated with spangly silver stars that glimmer when the light hits them right, and on the ceiling the constellations, clouds, and moon magically rotate in time with the earth. 

There are little silver instruments scattered along bookshelves filled with heavy, ancient-looking tomes, and squashy brown leather loveseats and armchairs scattered across the center of the room in front of the fireplace, burning merrily with magical fire—today, it looks to be mercurial silver in color, heating the ever-changing cauldron full of some fiddly potion or another. There are little tables near the windows, most of them empty since it’s so close to closing time, but there remains a handful of dawdling students scowling at their research.

A raven immediately caws in greeting, flapping her wings and nearly smacking a mug off a shelf in her excitement.

Logan looks up from the tome he’d been reading so that Patton can see his beloved’s face. The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as soon as he seems to realize that it’s Patton who’s just walked through the door, even in the midst of his recitation, and Patton smiles just at the sight of it: the faint freckles on Logan’s face that Patton’s stared at as Logan’s slept, the eyelashes brushing against Logan’s cheeks that blush such a charming pink, a slight scratch at his cheek from an overly excitable branch that hasn’t quite healed from the time of their last late-night excursion, being last night.

Logan gestures briefly to where Patton’s drink and a plate of obscured are sitting at the to-go station, before he returns his attention to the tome, chanting something under his breath all the while.

Patton grins. Tassology is staffed entirely by wizards, but more specifically, divinatory wizards—Tassology’s whole thing was coffee always made perfectly, exactly when you want it, exactly the way you want it, even if you yourself aren’t sure about what you’re ordering on the way there.

They offer a reading of the grounds if you pay a bit extra, if you wanted that, which of course the diviners knew if you wanted it before you even asked. It’s the best, and it’s most of the reason so many students from Astrelons come all the way to the Coppice for their caffeine hit.

He goes to the to-go station, picking up the kitten-patterned mug that Logan usually saves just for him. He juggles Pumpkin to one arm so he can pull the plate closer, so he can see what pastry Logan’s divined for him.

“Ooh!” Patton says, immediately pleased, immediately certain that it probably would have been exactly what he’d ordered in any non-magical café. A thick slice of three-layer chocolate cake sits on the plate, visibly moist, with mint-chocolate candy bits scattered throughout the buttercream between each layer, all of it topped off with fudgy, delicious frosting and chocolate curls pressed against the side.

Logan finishes his chanting, and the fire changes from bright silver to a low red, too red to pass off as a normal fire. Patton isn’t really sure what it means, but a lot of the spells Logan does with their rigid parameters are too academic and conceptual for Patton to understand. 

Logan looks pleased as Kamaria flies to settle on his shoulder, her talons digging into the reinforced padding Logan (and most wizards or witches with bird familiars) wears under his clothes. Kamaria’s jostling means Patton can see Logan’s silver ivy necklace poking out from where it’s tucked neatly under his collar; he wonders idly if Kamaria shifted Logan’s shirt enough if Patton would be able to see a peek of purple.

“Good spell?” Patton checks.

“Good spell,” Logan agrees. He leans across the counter, and Patton leans in to give him a quick kiss of greeting, Pumpkin chirping in his arms. 

“The academic kind?”

“Very academic—it’s a very traditional spell, but I hope that with my own modifications,” Logan begins, amused, clearly about to go into details when he’s interrupted. 

His eyes glow white and a wind Patton can’t feel tousles Logan’s hair almost in slow motion—a tell-tale sign that Logan’s having a vision. 

“Ah!” Logan says, in that strange double-speak that comes through if he’s making a prophecy or describing a vision: his own, normal voice, with a voice much lower and more gravelly underneath it. “It’ll impress my Evocation professor quite easily. That’s my end-of-semester project handled. Why a divinatory wizard has to take Advanced Evocation is beyond me, but I’ll receive a top grade.”

Logan’s eyes clear so that Patton can see the earth-brown iris and the black pupil again. 

“And how was work—wolpertingers again,” Logan says, in his normal voice. It’s not a question.

“Wolpertingers again,” Patton agrees wearily. “Amalthea’s about to call in an abjurer to try and make better wards for their pen. I swear chimeras might be less troublemaking.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts. “I think you aren’t considering the trouble fire-breathers might cause.”

“Well, we have those little dragon-lizard-things—”

“Draco volans.”

“—yeah, those—and they breathe fire, and they’re sweet as can be. They like roasting marshmallows!”

“I think you’re underestimating chimeras.”

“I think you’re underestimating the wolpertingers,” Patton returns, setting Pumpkin on the ground so that he can properly pick up his plate and mug. “You’re working until close, right?”

Logan almost always takes the closing shift, for reasons Patton understands exceptionally well. It’s why he takes the close-to-closing shifts at Amalthea’s. He’s pretty sure no one else in the Coppice paid attention, too relieved to know they wouldn’t have to risk the darkness of night; no one really knew their reasons for lingering outside so late.

Well. Except one.

“Correct.”

Patton leans over to get another kiss, unable to help himself.

It is, perhaps, a bit too heated a kiss than Patton would usually give, but Tassology’s full of people minding their own business. So Patton feels like doing little teasing, just naughty enough to allow a flash of teeth against Logan’s lip, to savor the soft gasp Logan gives in response, to swallow the noise down and lave that same spot with his own tongue.

Logan smiles at him, bashful, when he pulls back before he glances at the door.

“Someone’s going to walk in within the next minute,” he tells Patton.

“All right,” Patton says, trying his very best to come off unaffected. He’s pretty sure neither of them is succeeding. “Hey, is that enchantment book still here?”

“In the bookshelf to the left of the fireplace,” Logan says. “The pasta pot again?”

“I want it to make marinara sauce too!” Patton says brightly. “I mean, I love a good bowl of pasta with butter and parmesan cheese, but I’d like some variety in my pasta.”

Patton grins at Logan mischievously. “A mix-aroni, if you will.”

Logan groans at the pun.

“Hey, do you think pesto would be easier to transition to? Maybe alfredo?” Patton continues. “I don’t wanna overwhelm Potton.”

“You named your pasta pot?” Logan says, then shakes his head fondly. “What am I saying, of course, you did.”

The bell jangles. Logan’s eyes flash white and, without looking at the customer, Logan says, “Medium drip coffee, sweet and black?”

“Uh, yeah,” the man says, startled. 

“I’ll ring you up; you can fill up over there. Sugar’s in the middle. Since you like blonde roasts, I’d recommend the half-city roast. It pairs very well with cinnamon—your cinnamon roll is here, by the way, warmed.” Logan taps a pastry bag.

“How did you—?” He begins before he shakes his head. “Wizards,” he mutters and goes to fill his to-go cup.

When his back is turned, Logan does a quick cantrip to make sure the cinnamon roll will maintain a perfectly warm temperature before his eyes flash white again—more customers, probably.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Patton says.

“Later,” Logan says in his double-voice, distracted, then, “Ugh, we don’t sell frappuccinos, and why would you want one in this weather?”

Patton follows Pumpkin to where he’s sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, purring happily as he soaks up the warmth. Kamaria lands beside Pumpkin and begins grooming him with her beak. 

Patton grins at the sight of their familiars. At least they can cuddle when Logan and Patton can’t; he can feel his connection to Pumpkin, the warmth of Logan’s magical fire, the sensation of a beak in his fur. Hair. Patton has hair. Pumpkin has fur.

Patton takes a detour to pick up the enchantment book before taking a seat in the squashiest, coziest-looking armchair closest to the hearth, wiggling around to get comfy. It doesn’t take much.

He sinks into the buttery leather, a puffy pillow nestled against his low back to help with any aching that comes from a day on his feet. He takes a sip of the coffee—rich and chocolatey, pepperminty, at a perfectly warm temperature, with that little zing that lets him know it’s been touched by Logan’s magic—and lets out a contented sigh.

He spends a lovely evening in a cozy armchair beside a fire that never wanes, crackling merrily all the while, eating a slice of cake so moist and delightful that Patton’s eyelashes flutter shut as he tries the first mouthful, and drinking a mocha that never gets cold.

He does try to read about the enchantments, really he does, but this tome is much more Logan’s kind of thing—full of fiddly little parameters, a thousand calculations, and steps that Patton would never remember on his own, much more rigid than Patton’s relaxed, folksy style of magic—that he sets it aside after making a valiant attempt for five pages.

He spends most of the evening alternately savoring his goodies, watching Logan, and daydreaming about what surely awaits them after work, his fingers alternately drifting to twine around his necklace of ivy or to rest just under his right collarbone.

Most of the time he even gets to combine at least two out of the three!

He watches as Logan goes about his business, moving in that utterly Loganish way that he does; no wasted movement, no embellishments without purpose, productive in every gesture. 

Cleaning a mug and, while flicking water off his fingers into the sink, using that same movement for a cantrip Patton spent a week teaching him to sweep any stray crumbs off the countertop.

Patton stares with such unbreaking attention it’s like Logan’s demonstrating the secrets of finding out the secrets of how to make Potton work the way he wants.

Pulling an espresso shot with factory-like efficiency, each and every time; Patton knows from drinking here that any drink made by Logan will be practiced repetitively until he reaches the same delicious result each and every time.

Patton tries to be subtle about it, to watch out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t help it if he drifts off, imagining those same strong, practiced hands on him.

Pointing out the sugar canisters to a student, and, when turning back, flicking his wrist so any errant, abandoned tomes leap back into place on the bookshelves.

The longer Patton watches him, the more he bites at the inside of his own lip, the more he eagerly watches the clock for the moment Patton will be able to whisk him out of here.

It’s just that Logan is so… tactical.

He realizes this is a trait that most people don’t find agonizingly attractive. Patton, prior to meeting Logan, hadn’t even tapped into the fact that precision and expertise were something he’d want—or, more accurately, something he’d daydream about, that he’d watch Logan be so dazzlingly competent and then melt into a vaguely Patton-shaped puddle over it. 

As it is, by the time Logan is calmly shepherding out the last of the Astrelons stragglers out of the door (“We’re closing. Yes, I know, but there are other perfectly serviceable cafés or libraries that are open to later hours, and seeing as this one isn’t, which was clearly written upon the door you walked through to get here, along with the warning announcements, you really should have known… yes, very comical, it’s almost as if I haven’t heard that joke about divination before, now please leave…”) Patton is trying his best not to squirm in his armchair, not to look too eager.

By the time the last person is just about pushed out of the door, Logan takes a moment to sigh, before he turns to face Patton.

“I know he’s stubborn, but this,” Logan begins wearily.

“But they’re gone now!” Patton says, practically vibrating. “Here, let me help—”

“Oh, Patton, really you don’t have to—”

“I want to!” Patton insists. 

They’ve talked about this a lot. Patton’s magic—folksy and householdy—are much more inclined to certain skills, in the same way Logan’s rigid, scholarly magic inclines him to others. One of the minuscule branches of magic Patton can cast very easily, and one that takes Logan a great deal of study, are most cleaning magics.

Logan tends to argue that it shouldn’t fall to Patton to clean up after him, considering it is part of Logan’s job, and therefore his responsibility; Patton points out that by doing it, it gets them both out of there quicker, and anyways Patton gets a friend and family discount on his purchases from here, can’t he repay that somehow? Which Logan will usually counter with Patton gets the friends and family discount because he is a friend, and therefore it isn’t something to repay, hasn’t Patton pointed out that friendship and companionship aren’t transactional in nature? And Patton will waver, and go, well, yeah, true, at their base it shouldn’t, but don’t you want to get out to the Coppice faster? And Logan will say that isn’t the point, and even though Patton is inclined toward household magics, it certainly shouldn’t mean Patton should feel responsible for cleaning up after Logan, who is a capable adult, and he doesn’t want to lean into any sort of prejudices about certain kinds of witchery and wizardry, and Logan’s done all kinds of reading about invisible labor and the way it affects partners, and Patton will go, well, magic isn’t really invisible, is it, I mean, you can see it working, and Logan says being painstakingly literal is usually his thing, and Patton knows what he means—

It’s an ongoing discussion, anyway.

So before the discussion can even start, Patton lifts his arms, and Logan’s eyes flash white, and he says in that double-voice, “Patton, you really don’t have to, it’s my job—”

But it’s too late; Patton has made a wide, forward expression with both arms like he’s pushing something very heavy, and the magic’s off with a whirlwind that rustles Kamaria’s feathers, a pleasant tingle that shoots down Patton’s shoulders all the way to his fingertips, unknitting any knots of tension that have built up during the day. Patton trots into the kitchen to watch, but the magic’s already started.

In unison, the dirty mugs and plates spring into the receptacles customers are meant to place them once they’re done with them, which bustle off to sinks that are already filling with hot, soapy water, brushes and sponges springing to attention as the dishes leap into their makeshift bath one-by-one to be scrubbed clean; towels briskly wipe them dry; the mugs and plates stack themselves obediently on their shelves in their cabinets; the shop’s three brooms are merrily sweeping out crumbs and detritus from various corners; a mop and bucket dance alongside, swabbing the hardwood until it gleams clean; the fiddly silver instruments shake themselves free of smudgy fingerprints; washcloths swipe carefully along the chairs, the tables, the leather, disinfecting and polishing; the ovens drop open and the coffee makers spring open so the stains and spills since the last time Patton did this can be scoured away.

The rugs even march themselves outside to beat themselves free of dust, before marching themselves back in and lying flat where they were, the tables and chairs and bookshelves obligingly floating briefly in the air to allow them to lie themselves out just so. The chairs float to turn themselves atop the tables, stacking neatly off the floor.

And, within five minutes, Tassology is faultlessly, gleamingly clean, everything back in its proper place, Kamaria hopping to a perch and flapping her wings. Pumpkin, entirely used to this, still dozes by the fire, unseeing and uncaring of the cleaning magic scooting around Patton’s familiar, so that Pumpkin can have a nice, uninterrupted nap.

Patton claps his hands as the last of the chairs scoots itself into place on its respective place.

“Thank you!” He calls, and he feels that pleasant, familiar feeling rushing through him; magic saying oh, you’re welcome, you’re welcome, thank you! and he is immediately warm and pink-cheeked with pleasure, wanting to wrap his arms around himself in a hug.

“Patton,” Logan says, “I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to. It’s my job, anyway, I should be the one doing it.”

Patton pulls Logan out of the back door of the kitchen, looking back at him over his shoulder, purposefully batting his eyelashes and grinning.

“Isn’t me using magic to help so much better than having to wait, though?” He purrs.

Logan’s face seems to be warring between a stern expression born out of a love for rules and all things orderly and delight at the fact his boyfriend is quite literally dragging him to be somewhere in private.

The delight wins.

The barely-visible heat in Logan’s eyes ignites Patton, too, a low fire leaping to life to simmer in his belly. He barely manages to lead them past the treeline before Patton swings them around, Patton pressing his back against the rough bark of a pine tree. They’re past the unofficial line border of the Coppice; that will serve to hide them from any prying eyes.

Patton wraps his arms around Logan’s neck, and Logan bends his head to Patton’s, all too willing to seal their lips together.

He picks right back up where they left off; a bite to Logan’s lip, his tongue at the same place in an instant, except now, without a counter between them, Logan’s arms are free to wrap themselves tightly around Patton’s waist, pulling him ever closer.

The wind roars in his ears, and he swears he hears a dark, low voice in the wind, one that makes the purple aster tattooed over his chest throb in the cold, the same sensation of taking off your mitten and thrusting your bare hand into the snow. 

Harlot, the wind whispers fondly in his ears.

Patton shivers happily, pressing himself closer into Logan’s warm chest; he opens his eyes in time to see the wind caress lovingly through Logan’s hair, and Logan’s eyes change color again. Except they don’t go white, this time.

Pure black bleeds from the iris, until looking into Logan’s eyes is like swimming in pools of ichor. Far from the panic he’d felt the first time this happened, Patton simply smiles, tilting his head back to meet Logan’s gaze. 

“You like it,” Patton says confidently.

Logan smiles; not his typical smile, like he’s hiding it because serious people shouldn’t smile, or the shy one he gives to Patton in private. This is all teeth, the expression of something—someone—who has observed the act of smiling but hasn’t quite figured it out for himself yet.

“We do,” Logan says in that different double-voice; half Logan, half stormy gale roaring in Patton’s ears.

Patton grins, pressing the suddenly-cold space below his right collarbone to the matching space just under Logan’s collarbone, which he’d bet has gone just as cold as his. He knows, now, even without lifting his shirt to check, that the entwined ivy, purple aster, and honeysuckle tattooed will have grown more vividly intense in color, less like a watercolor painting and more like acrylic.

The ichor starts to leech from Logan’s iris, as Logan gives a full-body shudder and groans. Patton steadies him when his knees go suddenly wobbly; Patton knows how much Logan likes this, likes to use his body to play host, but they can’t do it for very long, because the one Logan’s hosting is a nervous Nelly.

Black whips around them, a suddenly opaque wind that no one would be able to see into, wrapping around Logan and Patton like a cocoon, vast and endless around them.

The name I chose for myself is not Nelly, the stormgale grumbles, less into Patton’s ears and more like emanating from his very bones.

Patton grins against Logan’s mouth.

“I know, darling,” he says aloud. “It’s not intended to be a slight, I promise.”

Patton has to talk a little old-fashioned, to get past any communication gap. There’s been progress, but some aspects of language seem to elude him still; he picked he/him pronouns after a lengthy attempt at educating him about it. I’ll use the ones you both use, he’d told Logan and Patton, somewhat crossly after a long evening spent trying to understand the idiosyncrasies of human language. That way we’ll all match.

Also: teaching a living embodiment of forest about pronouns? Not really something Patton ever expected he’d have to do!

Most of what he’s seen of humans is from afar, and the last ones who got close were the Whitesummers, which doesn’t count because he kind of pushed up their daisies, if you will. 

Anyways. They’re working on modern slang, but it takes him a while to get a hang of it. 

There’s a lot of things that he’s confused by, little things like mochas and pet shops, and also big things like colonization and humanity, but Patton’s confused by a lot of him too; what it must be like being a timeless embodiment of forest whose existence has stretched over probably-millennia and maybe-eons, for one.

Hence, harlot in attempted dirty-talk. Which Patton actually quite likes, thank you very much; his lovers both seem to be fans of Patton’s enthusiasm, which makes Patton even more enthusiastic.

“I like the name you chose.”

“As do I,” Logan growls; they’re so close that Patton can see the way his pupils have gone wide, his hands suddenly fumblingly eager at Patton’s hips. Though Patton likes the way that they combine, for those fleeting moments, the way the pair of them in one body kiss him, Logan loves it. 

They think it’s something about his divinatory powers, that he can do that to Logan and not to Patton; Logan’s tried to describe it, the way that full-body hold feels, and each time he tries he ends up wordless, then immediately moving to kiss Patton, worked up from the sheer memory of it.

Logan presses him back against the tree bark to lean down and seals his mouth to Patton’s, swallowing up Patton’s delighted moan. God, it’s good, it’s so good, is it any wonder Patton spent half the evening fantasizing of this—of the warmth of their bodies together, the frost of Virgil all around them, Logan’s tongue against his lips, and Logan’s body pressing against his, and Logan, Logan, Logan.

Patton leans eagerly into Logan’s touch; he loves Logan’s disciplined nature as much as he loves the way Logan loses it, just for them, and he practically purrs as Logan grabs at his thigh, kneading at the flesh there, while pressing his open mouth against Patton’s pulse.

Patton gasps, throwing his head back to thump unpleasantly against the tree, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, not with Logan’s mouth moving against his neck, sucking hard at the sensitive flesh in the way that Patton dreams about, and Patton’s eyes shutter shut as he grips tightly at Logan’s hair, his back, scrambling for some kind of foothold.

Say it, he says, that stormy gale that seems to start deep inside Patton’s sternum and thrum throughout his whole skeleton, clattering his teeth. Say my name.

“Virgil,” Patton gasps, head thrown back against the tree, bark scratching unpleasant-pleasant across his scalp, Logan’s mouth an unbearably perfect spark of warmth on his throat. 

The wind roars around them, the shadows whipping to life, every blade of grass in the forest and every leaf of every tree attuned to them, just to them, imparting Virgil’s passion and curiosity and heat and concupiscence and love, always love.

Logan pressed between Patton’s thighs, the rest of their bodies engulfed in a possessive, supernatural chill, wrapped around them and between them and in them, it almost seems, Virgil’s presence all around them. 

The silver ivy around his neck going so bitingly cold, that perfect counterpoint to Logan’s teeth scraping against his neck.

Logan kissing him, so greedy, so wonderful—

The wind slips slyly under Patton’s shirt, and Patton giggles a little against Logan’s mouth at it, ticklish, breaking the kiss long enough for the wind to whip just right so that Patton’s shirt comes off. 

Shadows erupt from the earth to wreath around Patton’s legs, Patton’s thighs, Patton’s ribs, Patton’s neck, pressing against Patton’s mouth in as much a kiss as he can without a mouth, the sensation that cold, that divine opposite to Logan’s warm, wet mouth, the taste of honeysuckle bursting in his mouth.

It’s all so good, it’s all so tortuously good—

“Fuck, you were so right,” Logan rasps, practically rapturous, “why on earth would I not take the fastest route to get here—”

Patton, giggling, gently pushes Logan to sit, then presses Logan’s back against the bed of forest leaves that rustles eagerly around them, Logan’s hands bracing his hips, soft and tender, trying hard not to feel self-conscious at Logan’s reverent stare. 

It’s humbling to be the recipient of such adoration. His lovely, serious barista, so full of important visions of the future, so studious and so well-planned, trusting Patton enough to let down some of those guards, to look at Patton with such a warm, appreciative stare, to look at Patton as if he is the most perfect, most beautiful, most dazzling creature to walk the earth. It’s such an honor to watch Logan let himself get fumbling with the craving of the both of them, to lose himself.

It’s humbling, to enter the forest, to crack himself open to bear witness to a sliver of the love of him, for Virgil is so vast, so endless, that to know all of Virgil’s feelings for him would surely be to drown in them for the rest of his life. To try and return some of that, to behold Virgil, to learn his name, and to have that for himself, for Logan, his love. It staggers Patton on a daily basis.

Patton is so fortunate to be surrounded by so much love.

You are beautiful, the wind thrums, from the deepest part of his chest, whispering through the browned, fallen leaves, pushing Logan’s hair back from his forehead, Logan turning his head keenly into the touch of their lover. You are so beautiful.

He moves the conversation along quite handily by straddling Logan’s waist and twining the shadows between his fingers and bending to kiss Logan, feeling that stormy wind rush through his hair and down his spine, leaving goosebumps in their trail—

It’s going to be a long, perfect night.

[corpsebasil]

Easily Replaced | Part 5

part 6

The Ocean looked like it wanted to strangle you with both hands.

"There's no other way out of Kerch?" You demanded, clinging to Jesper's arm as you walked towards the docks.

Since you were eight, you’d hated the sea. Hated the smell, the look, everything. It looked angry today, not even a day after you and the Crows had hired the Conductor, the sky murky overhead, the humidity making your hair frizz. You wrinkled your nose and gripped Jesper's arm tighter, savoring his familiar scent and warmth.

"I've got you, you know that." He told you, stunningly gray eyes winking down at your pinched face. He knew why you hated the water—what haunted your worst nightmares. He had nightmares, too. "We'll be in Ravka soon. Then we can rob a Grisha tent, or feed Kaz to a Volcra."

"We could feed Inej to a Volcra." You mumbled, and Jesper poked you roughly in the side.

"Inej is lovely. As are you." He reached over and fiddled with the Volcra tooth on your necklace, pinching it between his index finger and thumb. "Where did you get this, by the way?"

      She tugged it out of his grasp gently, the tooth sharp against your skin. Memories of a snowy wasteland north of Ravka and a woman with a cane and the temperament of a wet cat came to mind. You missed Marmee, the woman you’d lived with from the time you fled Ketterdam at eight until you were fifteen, and her strange Fjerdan ways, desperately, even now.

Even when you bore scars from the country that had pulled you out of the lowest point of your life.

"My grandmother." Was all you said, and Jesper took the hint to drop the subject.

"We'd better hurry," Kaz's voice met your ears and you shivered involuntarily, refusing to meet his eye when he passed you on the dock. "this weather is shit. We'll be lucky to get into Ravka by sundown in these conditions."

His limp was worse today than usual—it always pained him more when the weather turned cold and rainy, and he clutched his cane roughly, a scowl on his face. You knew he'd be grumpy today. He always was when he hurt.

"Maybe you can bully the ocean into calming down." You mumbled, and Kaz shot you an exasperated look.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected to change between you and Kaz as of last night, but you shouldn't have been surprised when the first words to you from him were rude. He made a face at your hair, piled hazardously on top of your head, and snorted.

"Did you battle a wildebeest?" He asked, gesturing vaguely at your head, and you didn't deem him worthy of a reply.

"Good morning." The Conductor sniffed, nodding his head at you as he approached the group on the docks.

"You're late." Kaz deadpanned in reply.

"Are you excited to cross?" Jesper asked The Conductor loudly, ignoring his friend, and the mustache-wearing man looked up from being jabbed in the bicep with a sharp nail from you as a greeting.

"It's all part of the trade. I've crossed more times than I can count." He gestured to his sleeve and smiled half-heartedly.

You reached over and snatched up his arm.

"HEY—" you squealed, and Kaz flinched. "Look at this. Look." You commanded, and held the poor man's arm out towards Kaz. On the Conductor's left forearm were quite possibly the most tallied scars Kaz had ever, in all of his eighteen years, laid eyes upon.

"I want this many tallies," you said, grinning down at the man's arm. "the Fold is so scary—how do you get across it? Have you ever fought a Volcra? I have."

"You have never fought a Volcra," Kaz commented, but everyone ignored him.

"It's a trade secret," the Conductor replied, giving you an amused look. "you'll see once we land in Ravka."

"Where's Inej?" Kaz asked, turning to Jesper, and you let out an unflattering grunt.

"We're holding up the ship." You said and pulled your arm from Jesper's, stomping your way towards the deck. Your eyes darted towards the churning water as you stepped over the gangplank to the ship, your stomach tossing in unison as you forced down haunting images that always followed the sea.

If you didn't lose your lunch before you got to Ravka, you’d lose your mind.

~

"It's not fair that I wasn't born a Sun Summoner," You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest, slouching aggressively. "Why does Alina get to win? I'd look great in a Kefta."

      The boat trip to Ravka had been brief but debilitating. You’d only seen Inej once, puking over the side of the ship, but you were still so irritated with the Suli girl for winning Kaz's favor and for cutting your face that you didn't do more than offer her a handkerchief.

Even then, the two of you stayed in tense silence around each other.

    Now that you were in West Ravka, piled into a carriage, you and Inej wouldn't stop playing The Staring Game, waiting for one another to crack under the weight of the other's stare. You were crowded against the window of the small carriage you were in, and it was burning hot.

"You look great in everything." Jesper told you, pulling your attention, and scooted closer on the bench beside you, stretching out his long legs.

      The Conductor wasn't leaving either of you much room and Kaz, across from you, wouldn't stop death-glaring you like he expected you to summon a demon onto the carriage just because you were there.

"What the hell are you looking at?" You snapped, irritated with the weight of Kaz's glare, and he rolled his eyes.

"How'd this happen?" Jesper asked, and poked your cheek with a frown on his face. He ignored his best friend when Kaz gave him a glare that implied he was committing treason. "And where'd you go off to last night? I saw you sneaking off down the street all dressed up in your murder gear."

You glared at the person you liked the most out of everyone in that carriage and poked him right back.

"None of your business," you said maturely, and glanced over at Kaz. He watched you with an inscrutable look on his face that made him look like he'd smelled something foul. "I got bit by a snake." You said, and shot daggers at Inej with your eyes.

The girl at least had the decency to look embarrassed for throwing a knife at you.

"I bet." Jesper snorted, elbowing you like you were talking about an inside joke, and Kaz cleared his throat.

"If you two are going to be annoying," he began, and rolled his cane between his fingers, "you ought to ride in the box on the back of the carriage. Some of us have more important things to do than gossip."

"Like what?" You demanded, and Inej stared at the window like she was waiting for a miracle from God.

"Like the Conductor." Kaz started, his eyes sliding to yours, and he frowned before looking to the man crammed against the window beside Jesper. "I didn't hire you simply to get us across the Fold. You're with us because you smuggle Grisha out of the Little Palace, and that's the location of our target."

"Sun Summoner." Inej corrected.

"Alleged." Kaz cut back, and Jesper snorted.

"They wouldn't keep a fraud in the most secure location in all of Ravka," Inej pointed out, and Kaz ignored her, sending a zing of satisfaction up your spine.

"You said you have a contact who can get us inside. A Heartrender." Kaz continued, and the Conductor nodded.

"Mmhmm."

"How do I know we can trust her?"

"Nina grew up there."

"Most Grisha grew up in the Little Palace. Very few would betray their general, and fewer still would help foreigners kidnap their most prized possession."

"Nina's a radical. Thinks Grisha should get to choose if they serve the Crown. She despises involuntary service more than she does Fjerdans."

"What's wrong with Fjerdans?" You scoffed, raising an eyebrow, and Kaz rolled his eyes. You thought you were going to hurt him if he rolled his eyes at you one more time.

"She's Grisha." The Conductor laughed bitterly, casting you a look. "Don't be stupid, girl." He said and despite yourself you felt embarrassed.

"Watch the way you speak to her." Kaz set a dark look onto the Conductor and the man frowned.

"My apologies." He grumbled, turning to look out the window, and you mashed your lips together to prevent a smile.

tags| @balmasedas @euphoniumpets @subjecta13-thefangirl @itisroe @thefandomplace @kaitlyn2907 @alice-the-nerd @beeposstuff @kykymyeon @emberlei @tomhollandisabae @sakuramadae @louweasleymalfoy @thehighqueenandking

[invisibleraven]

Writer's Choice + " i like being close to you. you’re warm."

Warning: mild dubious consent (sex while under the influence) which both partners agreed to at a prior time

Reggie is downright miserable, being sick sucks. His throat feels like it's on fire, he can barely breathe he's so stuffed up, and everything hurts. What's worse is that they were supposed to have a gig tonight, and he doesn't know if he'll feel worse if they have to cancel or if Luke finds another bassist for tonight.

He's wallowing on the possibilities when a knock comes to his door, and he croaked out letting whoever it was to come in. Luke picked his head around the door frame, smiling wryly. "Hey buddy, how ya feeling?"

"Like death," Reggie rasped back. "0 out of 10, would not recommend."

"Well lucky for you," Luke said, waving a bottle, "I brought meds and cuddles." He measured out a small cup of the liquid, handing it off to Reggie. He swallowed it with a grimace, then gratefully took a sip of water from the bottle Luke had also brought.

Luke then tried to shove Reggie further in the bed, but Reggie shook his head. "You so don't wanna be close to me right now babe, you'll get sick and we'll miss even more gigs."

"Reg, we were making out like two days ago, I'm probably going to get it anyways, and no gig is more important than you." The Luke blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Plus I like being close to you, you're warm."

"You wouldn't be so cold all the time if you wore sleeves," Reggie snarked, but patted the space next to him, and cuddled into Luke's embrace once they were situated on the bed. Soon enough, Reggie was asleep, letting out little snuffly snores, making Luke give a dopey grin before succumbing to sleep himself.

Luke awoke to Reggie's giggles which he was trying to muffle into Luke's chest. Oh yeah, medicine made Reggie weird. Which also explained why he was now naked, and... Okay, Reggie was working fingers into himself and Luke felt his blood zing at the sight.

"You okay babe?" Luke asked in a sleep rough voice.

Reggie looked up at Luke, his face red with blush, eyes fever bright, and he giggled again. "Doing great Lukey, will be better once you fuck this flu outta me."

"That's... Not how it works babe. But you do sound better." Luke looked at Reggie who was still opening himself up, green eyes boring into Luke's own hazel. Look, they had talked about this, about Reggie giving Luke permission to fool around with him when he wasn't fully himself or conscious. They had tried and enjoyed it a few times, but never when Reggie was high as balls off cold medicine.

Luke was about to roll Reggie over, get him off and then find himself a cold shower when Reggie took matters into his own hands. He sat astride Luke, pulling his fingers free and ground down. Luke groaned while Reggie smiled triumphantly. Luke's hands flew up to grasp Reggie's hips, his skin warm but no longer burning hot. He could still hear a slight wheeze to Reggie's breathing but not the rattling that had been present earlier.

"C'mon Lu, it'll help me feel better." Reggie ground down again, and Luke was definitely interested, so he gave the smallest nod, gasping when Reggie almost yanked the zipper of his pants down, pulling Luke from his boxers.

Reggie grabbed the lube, putting the merest slather of it over Luke, and then sat up, positioning him before sinking straight down, punching the air from both of their lungs.

Luke kept his hands tight to Reggie's hips, but was otherwise powerless to do much of anything as Reggie began bouncing up and down with abandon. It was so fast and Luke felt like he was the one dying, already so ramped up. But that was what happened everytime he was Reggie like this, overwhelmed by him, the trust that Reggie had in him, the love they had for each other. They always tried to make it last, or had a frantic second round later, but Luke wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that right now.

Reggie was lost in the bliss coursing through him as he moved, nose red, skin pale, but he still looked incredibly gorgeous as he chased his pleasure. One hand was braced against Luke's chest, fingers scrunching the cut off tee, the other reaching down to grasp himself. "So close Lu."

"Me too babe, let go," Luke gasped, uncaring that they hadn't managed to get him out of his clothes, that they hadn't grabbed a condom, nothing mattered right now but him and Reggie. He watched as Reggie's back arched, his mouth open in a soundless scream, soaking Luke's abs with release.

Luke followed right behind, hips hammering upwards as he choked out a moan, breathing heavy as he came down. Reggie got up off of Luke, then lay down, cuddling in, heedless of the mess. "I do actually feel better now," he said quietly, a shit eating grin on his face.

Luke stuck his tongue out at him and proceeded to smother his face in kisses, uncaring that he was exposing himself to all of Reggie's germs. They had promised each other in sickness and health after all, and what kind of guy would Luke be if he turned his back over a stupid flu?

[pompadourpink]

Hello, I don't know if anybody else feels like this or if this is stupid: I live with my sister and our two cats. My sister is staying in her boyfriend's apartment maybe 4 times in a week. So most of the time I'm alone and I enjoy solitude, I can work better. There's a one huge problem which is I can't think of anything to eat. Preparing food seems like a big waste of time to me. Sometimes I woke up hungry and still I don't want to eat anything. I'm a vegetarian, sometimes the egg taste bores me and disgusts me, but because I can't think anything else to eat I had to eat eggs. So basically, I hate making food and that makes me hate eating food too. I'm afraid of being unhealthy, but last month I went to a doctor, everything was fine. I miss the days where my mother prepared food for me and I didn't have to think what I should eat. Do you have any advice for me?

Hello dear,

Here's what I would do:

Make it somebody else's problem: maybe you can order take-out (look for buy 1 get 2 offers and freeze the other one), or afford a service like Hello Fresh, or make a deal with a neighbour/friend that you'll babysit if they feed you, etc.

Make it easier: I used to claim that if something took longer to cook than to eat, I wasn't interested, so I ate pasta the whole time I was in university. Buy! bags! of! frozen! vegetables! and! cans! of! legumes! Warming up meat substitutes or making eggs takes less than five minutes, and most of that is just waiting time, so you can set the table or take out the trash in the meantime. Eggs are bland, but adding mushrooms or hot sauce can be enough to give them a kick.

Make it lazy: prepping is great. If you don't like frozen stuff, get vegetables and steam them (a folding steamer basket is the best thing you'll ever buy). If you don't want to buy cans, cook a kilo of black beans, lentils, chickpeas, etc. You don't have to stand there while it cooks, go watch Netflix and put an alarm on your phone! Then, put that stuff in Tupperwares, in the fridge or the freezer, and zing! 1h30 of prepping, 20mn of actual work, and you're good for a week.

Make it social: you can meal prep with your sister when she's around, or invite a friend over, shop and make dinner together, or make it a romantic activity when you have a special someone over. Food isn't just supposed to be a requirement to stay alive. Feel free to watch Ratatouille for inspo!

Love,

Mum