His Kell, His Queen

More Variks stuff because I love him and also I want him to live not on cold misery planet because he has had enough shit happen to him. Also I just wanted to try writing Mara. Maybe this has already happened in the lore but whatever I’m doing my own take on it

The biting cold of Europa still seeped through the cracks of the lonely shelter Variks made for himself. He’d tweaked with the hardware and managed to get the heating system to run, though its age was apparent as it managed to only make slightest difference. But anything was better than the frigid wasteland that the mere 10 inches of metal and glass kept at bay. The large doors slid open venting all of the heat from the room. But Variks didn’t mind as he turned to greet the visitor. Assuming it was the Guardian or Mithrax, he was lax, but he couldn’t have more wrong. 

The piercing stare of the Awoken Queen sent a jolt of fear down Variks spine as he stumbled back, he clicked and chittered as she stepped into the room. When he finally regained his sense Variks bowed deeply to her, 

“My Queen, my Kell.” She stared down at him, he could feel her stare boring into the back of his head, 

“Variks.” He couldn’t tell if she was displeased with him, though he wouldn’t blame her if she was. Nearly everyone was upset with him nowadays,

“My apologies, Queen Mara. I do not have many hospitalities to offer.” She scoffed and Variks felt her heel on his shoulder, 

“Stand up creature. I care not for your pleasantries-” Variks slowly began to stand, he grumbled and grunted, reminded just how old he was again. Mara hummed absently, 

“Nor do I care for any groveling you’ve spared for me.” She walked away from him towards a few broken consoles. Variks watched her carefully as she brushed her hand over a cracked screen,

“Are you comfortable here Variks?” He wheezed slightly,

“Would you like for Variks to be polite, or honest?” Mara seemed to mull over the choice, 

“Be honest with me.”

“I am most uncomfortable Queen Mara. But Variks will manage.” She neither smiled, nor frowned before turning towards him and crossing her arms, 

“I assume you learned whats become of Uldren since your… Departure.” Variks felt his Ether sink, 

“Yes. The Guardian told me what became of the Prince. Is he well?” Mara seemed to notice that Variks had dropped his usual speech. But he was far too tired to assume weakness around her anymore. The wind quietly snapped against the window between the silences until finally Mara chuckled, 

“I tire of this small talk. Variks, I have heard a million reasons for what you did. I already know why you abandoned the prison. But I can’t place what I should do about it.” Variks hummed, 

“Is my isolation and exile not enough, my Queen?” Mara shook her head, “I don’t know if you should feel exiled.”

“Queen Mara?” Variks met her stare as he adjusted his cane and she moved past him to look across the endless snow, 

“What was it like in the prison before you started the riot?” Variks nodded to himself, “In a way it was much like this.” Variks spoke of the monotonous daily routine he regimented himself into. How the visits from guardians became fewer and fewer till they were all but none. He spoke of the fear and panic when he saw fleets approaching but could send no warning in time, how he was forced to watch the system go dark. And then, Uldren, raving and mad, brought in chains and told to be visited by no one. No one but Variks who watched him rant and obsess over Mara. There was no peace living there, and when approached by an old friend to help build a haven for his people? Do to something productive, and something good after so long surrounded by misery, “I couldn’t refuse. But I couldn’t leave his highness to waste away either. No one was supposed to be hurt-” Mara’s stare softened at the  heartfelt mention of her brother,

“Plans often have a way of going awry.” A long sigh escaped her as she turned to stare at Variks, 

“Especially when Guardians are involved.” Variks looked to the floor bitterly. He’d been found by a few Hunters. None were happy to see him. Mara is quiet for a time, then she speaks, softly,

“Variks the Loyal. That’s what we called you. Even though I rarely used your name.” “To be in the presence of someone so capable was enough, my Queen. Do they not call me Loyal anymore?” Mara sat down, something sad in her eyes, 

“What is left of the Reef have more on their minds than arguing about your fault in a myriad of problems.” She paused,

“I, still consider you loyal. Even if you made some disappointing decisions.” Variks nodded and dipped his head in respect. Mara even chuckled, 

“You’ve faced the consequences though I see. Last I checked you had 4 arms.” Variks smiled under his mask, 

“There is not enough scrap to fashion any sort of replacement. But the guardian has put in a word with Misraaks.” Finally Mara stood, tall and proud, like the Kell he knew her to be,

“Variks, come back to the Reef.” 

“No, my Queen.” She looked confused. Another wheeze escaped him, 

“I still have work to do here. There are Eliksni to help, and Eramis must be watched over. I will stay.” Mara nodded, he could tell she wasn’t used to people arguing with her. That much had been evident with the Reefborn Awoken’s devotion to her. Instead she made a deal with him, 

“Then, once you are finished here you will let others watch over Eramis, and your exile will be over. You will be under my protection and free to live on earth or in the Reef. As long as it's warmer than here.” With that Mara turned and began to leave. Variks chittered to stop her. She turned. 

“Variks, thanks you Queen Mara. For her forgiveness.” a small pleased smile made its way onto Mara’s face as she waved her hand,

“I don’t do it for you, creature. It would just be difficult to keep coming back to this cold and miserable moon.” 

As the door’s shut and the poor heating system had to start all over again, it didn’t feel as cold and Variks smiled.

[In her research into Imperial-funded overhaul events, Meryse contacts the Nerevarine. This probably isn't canon. Unless]

3E 432

Meryse set up a sound wall around the projection room she had booked for the afternoon. She wished she could do this somewhere more private, like her own home, but even the "modern-style" projection that many mages made use of was still a little ways beyond her current skill level, and so she was stuck using a device at her local Mages Guild.

It was a dangerous game, she knew, doing research that could be considered anti-Imperial in an Imperial-funded facility, but she was fairly confident that she knew how to take the appropriate precautions. Besides, if the rumors could be trusted, the person she was going to be talking to was at least nominally considered a friend of the Empire, and so even if the projection could be tracked, she should be safe.

In their brief exchange of letters, they had provided each other with a pointer gem, a tiny crystal infused with a small amount of magicka, to make it possible to target each other with a projection. When the designated time came, Meryse placed Ildari's pointer gem in the device's slot and powered it up with a bit of her own magicka. She sat at the desk in the rune on the floor and set her notebook down in front of her while the device whooshed to life and sent its projection to what she imagined was a fabled mushroom tower all the way in Morrowind.

A few moments later, a translucent form appeared in front of her of a Dunmer woman with hair flopped to one side of her head. She had heard that the Nerevarine had been young, but she was still surprised to see that this mer barely looked older than she. Of course, it was hard to gauge an age from a projection, especially of a mer. Maybe she was older than she looked, or maybe Meryse was really just older than she felt.

As they exchanged introductions and pleasantries, Meryse noticed a ring on Ildari's finger decorated with Azuran symbology. She had heard of that ring, Moon-and-Star, in her studies when preparing for this meeting. It was said to give Nerevar, and only Nerevar, a substantial boon in interpersonal abilities. She wondered whether Ildari was wearing it for symbolic reasons, or if she was just as nervous to be interviewed by a stranger as Meryse was to be conducting the interview. Either way, Meryse wished she had a ring like that, though preferably one that wouldn't kill her.

"So, I'm studying some of the major events that the Empire has seemed to have a hand in, as part of a larger research project, and I wanted to talk to some of the key players in those events," Meryse said. "You were employed by the Emperor himself to fulfill your Nerevarine prophecies, correct?"

"Ah...not exactly," Ildari said. "The Emperor selected me, yes, and tried to get me into his service, but I never even ended up talking to the guy the Empire wanted me to go to."

"Oh," Meryse said, her pen hovering above her notes. "Can I ask why?"

"Someone intercepted me outside the Census and Excise office and gave me a better offer if I would take the orders they'd given me to his boss instead of the Imperial contact I was told to meet. His boss was on the council of House Telvanni, which I wanted to connect with anyway, being my ancestral House, and it gave me the option not to work for the Empire, so I took him up on it."

"And the Empire was fine with you not following their orders?"

"'Fine' would be a stretch." She laughed. "Let's just say that when I visit my mom in the Imperial City these days, I stay clear of Green Emperor Way. They probably know better than to mess with me, honestly, but I also know better than to dangle myself in front of them."

Well, that was a deviation. Maybe this was more dangerous than Meryse had anticipated, if this Ildari was less of a friend of the Empire than she had previously believed. On the other hand, it might mean that her answers would be more useful than she expected, as long as any of the questions she had prepared still applied. She probed her wards to make sure they were holding up, and then glanced down at her notebook to decide where to go next.

"You were still initially set on your path by the Emperor, right? Do you know how he picked you?"

"Oh, Uriel absolutely orchestrated my involvement, even if I broke away the second I had the chance," Ildari said. "Certain entities have the ability to identify 'Heroes'—agents of prophecy. Gods can do it. I suspect Moth Priests can, too. Something about it being written in the Elder Scrolls. I assume an emperor has connections and probably makes it his business to keep tabs on any Heroes that pop up.

"Here's the thing, though: they did have to mess with my life to make it work. They killed my parents before I was old enough to remember them, because the prophecy said the Nerevarine has to have 'uncertain parents.' And they made up the charges that landed me in prison, because apparently being in prison is important to trigger the start of a prophecy, at least according to my friend Vivec. That tells me two things. First, they identified me as a Hero early on, long before the prophecies were actually set to be fulfilled. Second, they're willing to force a prophecy's conditions to be met, if it suits them."

"Wow, I...didn't realize they would go that far. Not that it's surprising, exactly. I guess I just didn't know they had the resources and the drive to act on prophecy so long before it's relevant."

She took a moment to consider the implications for her own research, and jotted a few notes down. She looked at her next question. It would sound strange, she knew, but Ildari seemed open-minded enough. Clearly, she was already aware of the implications of prophecy; she might not balk at a question about the nature of time and the aurbis.

"Did anything...strange happen while you were fulfilling your prophecies?" she asked. "I know that's broad. Anything that's hard to explain or understand, maybe relating to the flow of time?"

"That's very broad," Ildari agreed. "There was the part where I got all my memories back from my past seventeen incarnates' lives. That was strange and somewhat relates to the flow of time. But that's pretty specific to me. Probably not what you're looking for." With half a smile, she asked, "So, you're studying the Warp in the West?"

"Ah...yes," Meryse said with a nervous laugh.

"Don't buy the idea that it was a miracle from the Divines?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Not even a little bit, really. I want to figure out what really happened. Everyone sort of waves their hands around what happened, and no one seems to remember it. I do, sort of, but I was a kid, so no one believes me. I want to know what the Empire is hiding, and what else they might be hiding—who else they've hurt."

"Well, if you're looking for people the Empire has hurt, you've come to the right place," Ildari said dryly. "Be careful, though. The Empire doesn't always look kindly on its opponents, much less on people trying to uncover its secrets. I can say what I want, within reason, because quite frankly, I have power—both politically and in terms of combat ability. If you can't say the same, you should take care who you say these sorts of things to."

"Oh, I am careful, don't worry," she said. "I've got wards set up right now, I obscure my notes, and I keep my exact research questions largely to myself."

Ildari nodded. "That aside, though, you said you remember the Warp? The whole thing?"

"I remember three distinct days, when everyone talks about it being one or two. And when it was over, we were bending a knee to Uriel, and suddenly everyone was talking about the Nine like Talos had been there all along."

That seemed to interest Ildari. She paused, brow furrowed, and opened her mouth a few times as if to talk, but changing her mind each time.

After a few moments, she finally said, "I wonder if you're a Hero."

That was, somehow, not what Meryse was expecting.

"Me? I doubt it. I'm not strong or powerful or...special in any particular way, and I've never noticed the Empire messing with my life specifically, like you say they did with yours." She shrugged. "I'm just a mage, a researcher."

"So was I, before they shipped me off to Seyda Neen."

Meryse considered it for a moment longer. "I don't know. If that's all it is, it just feels like such a disappointing answer. And even if it is true, I still want to know how it happened. I guess I'll keep researching until I know better."

"Good idea. I'm sure there's plenty that the Empire is hiding; you being able to tell that they're hiding something is more of a compass than a solution," Ildari said. "Still, you might want to consider picking up some survival skills, maybe learn how to use a sword or armor, just in case you get tossed on an adventure without warning."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt," Meryse said. "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. This has been...enlightening, really, even if not in the ways I expected." She added a small laugh at the end.

"Research is never boring, is it?" Ildari said. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And if you publish your work, I'd love to read it."

"I will be sure to send you a copy. Thanks again, Ildari." She waved awkwardly and disconnected the projection.

Once the projection device was back to its inert state and she had taken Ildari's pointer gem out of its slot, she glanced down at her notes one more time. There was not much there, but she still felt like she had learned a lot, and come out with more questions than she had entered with. Naturally.

She added one more note about picking up some new skills, and then passed an encryption spell over the page. When she was satisfied that her notes were sufficiently obscured from prying eyes, she closed her notebook, slipped it into her bag, lowered her wards, and headed back out into the Mages Guild as though her concept of the world had not just been shaken.

What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.

|| Ida L. Hale ~ Agent Themis || Character Study ||

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Legacy is what is left. Born, lived, and died. When the final breath is taken, the legacy is what is left behind. A scar across the world showing generations to come what you did, who you are. It marks your moment in time. 

The Hale’s home was one such legacy. Firmly affixed to the same street in the same family’s hands for seven generations, the grand house on Belgrave Square was a scar onto its own. White, magnificent, and home. 

Ida had spent her whole life there, with the exception of a few months out of the year where they would travel to Scotland for a holiday at the estate. She had learned to walk there, learned everything that a well to do daughter of reasonable wealth ought to know. And there she learned of her family’s legacy. 

It was displayed proudly on the gold wallpaper in the parlor, in the shape of seven portraits. Grandfather, great uncles, and uncles occupied that place of honor, championing for the Hale name: one that meant success and strength. Military careers and political achievements. Their legacy was deeply steeped in English history, like the tea they drank in this very room, strong and dark but still well loved. Like their family gatherings for small pastries and that hot beverage, Ida had been taught early on how to act and behave. Like a good daughter and a good girl should. 

She would offer the tea, as a good hostess would. Ida would sit neatly, primly, like a good girl should. Ida would always smile and nod along with her father’s not so gentle pressure of the recent eligibility of certain family friends. Because a good daughter would marry well. 

Even in the 1930s, with women’s vote a fresh memory and the progression of the world, some things hadn’t changed. Legacy was the currency in which the elite dealt and Ida didn’t have any of her own. She could borrow from the pocket of her father and of her brothers. Daniel and Everett had power to spare. Sons of Colonel Arthur Hale were enough to grant them anything they desired, opening doors that would turn away Ida, though they bore the same name. 

She knew that this was a fact of life. She also knew she had to further the legacy of another, by giving life to another family’s future while never seeing a mark of her own. The portraits were of men: fathers and sons. But the mothers were never shown. Nor the daughters. The key to their continued life and they were not shown in a single frame. 

What would it take for her to be in one of those frames on that wall? Perhaps on a wall of her own? Ida Louise Hale with a legacy like her father’s but one that wouldn’t be stamped out like a spark. One that would last forever and ever. Like her father’s. Like every other Hale in history. 

It wasn’t academics or career. Even the eccentric choice she had gone with. Everett and Daniel had been called up, pushing a pin into this chapter of the Hale timeline. Marked with their bravery in 1939. They joined the Army and the Navy before the war had started, when it was just starting to brew. Ida hadn’t done it to be like them. She had joined the SOE to become better than them. Some women would become nurses and some would keep the homefires burning but Ida had spent too long staring at her great-grandfather’s military uniform to not snatch up the first opportunity of service. 

A man at a party had found her in the corner, in a deep conversation with a friend in French. Ida could acclimate to climates and atmospheres in the social scene, a skill that her mother had passed on. It was survival for women. 

“You speak French well,” The man had said. 

“I should hope so,” Ida had laughed, in that bell-like tone that was trained into her. Lillian Hale had taught her how to be a good hostess and an even better flirt. Women didn’t have a legacy but they did have appearances and character. “My parents spent a fortune on a tutor.” 

The question had turned into an invitation with the blink of an eye. An office in Whitehall, then on a train to Scotland where her life of reasonable comfort and ease was replaced with grease and long runs in the fog. But being remembered for more than the life you brought had a heavy price. Sweat dripping down Ida’s back and fingers calloused from the sharp metal of the gun was the payment due. 

Gone were the smooth hands that had never worked for more than charity, replaced with hands deft with guns, radios, and paper bound secrets. Her mother had spoken of the holidays she had gone on in France as a child but the world described to Ida, wrapped up in blankets and tucked neatly in her bed, wasn’t the one she walked with caution. Paris was only three months occupied but the curfew wasn’t quite the glittering city Lillian had described. 

The gardens were still lovely, just as her mother had promised. Flowers still in bloom in mid-August though the heat was nearly unbearable. The gray uniforms must have been stifling for the Germans but Ida’s blue skirt and blouse would keep her cool. She sat on the bench beyond the lilac bushes, waiting for her contact who had promised to meet her in a cafe down the road. There was no point in arriving early, not when meeting anyone to pass information was dangerous enough. 

Pigeons flitted around her feet, an ever present pest in Paris, gobbling up what crumbs remained from some kinder pedestrian’s birdseed. Ida didn’t like to feed the creatures, who were sure to swarm if food was in sight. Ida had grown used to them, almost, in the nearly six months she had spent on the continent. Dropped in Belgium and traveling on foot to Paris, Ida had only the guise of a student and the orders to establish a network of contacts. 

The sea of feathers parted in wake of a man, around her age, walking confidently towards her. His posture gave a sense of youth and enthusiasm that was furthered by the look in his eye. He marched straight towards her, never a foot wavering. 

There was nothing menacing in his gate that would suggest a Nazi secret police or someone with an intent to harm. But he never wavered. The man sat beside her, ignoring the pocketbook and stack of books between them, the universal sign for occupancy. 

He smiled at her, bright and almost as unwavering as his march towards her. She raised her eyebrows. 

“I believe there is a less crowded bench over there,” Ida said, pointing to the other side of the park. 

“Two isn’t a crowd, is it?” He said, eyes twinkling. “And there are no pigeons over there.” 

Pigeons. Of course, he chose to sit directly beside her for the bird watching.

 Ida shifted. She had been used to overeager men at social gatherings and had learned how to read them in Scotland during training. This one offered no ill will that she could recognize, just a set of brown eyes that were melting in the August heat. He was handsome, in an endearing way. But Ida was still suspicious. 

“Are you a student?” He asked, not missing a beat despite the steady look Ida was leveling. She wasn’t a mean spirit by nature but she didn’t have time to engage in pleasantries with a Parisian, not when she would meet the key to establishing a network in France for lunch in a few minutes. 

“Are you?” She asked, speeding up the small talk script that was known to everyone and all too familiar to her. Ida had spent hours working on etiquette as a girl and had memorized every rule in the book. She also knew when to break them. 

“Yes, at the University of Paris,” He said. “I’m Marc, by the way. A pleasure to meet you?” 

“Is it?” Ida asked. Was it a pleasure when he had sat on her bench, encroaching upon her solitude and started to inquire about pigeons.

“Yes, it is. That’s why I said it.” 

“And your name is?” He pressed further, refusing to take silence as an answer. He didn’t seem to understand the subtle social cues. Ida would have to be more direct in her approach. 

“Louise,” She said, smiling just as brightly as the grin he had offered a few moments before. Marc blinked, as if shocked by her sudden switch. His mouth hung open as she tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Tell me, what brings you to my bench?” 

“A beautiful girl,” he said, grinning again. 

Ida glanced around. The park was empty other than the man beside her. “I don’t see her, shall I keep you company while you wait?” 

“That would be very kind of you,” 

Ida turned back to face the pathway, letting the slight breeze blow the hair off the back of her neck where it clung with sweat. She was flushed, by the heat, not this man’s presence. She was frustrated by him, that’s what this was. Ida had one job in Paris: establish a network of contacts and informants who were ardently Anti-Nazi. Once that was done, she would have a functioning legacy that would continue to provide information to help the war. That was it. That was her plan. 

But this Marc didn’t want her to have a plan, it seemed. He kept chattering, trying to compliment her in a thousand different ways. Her watch was nearing noon and she wouldn’t have much time. 

“Oh look,” Ida said quickly. “Here comes your pretty girl now,” 

She gestured toward a small blonde, who hastened up the path towards them. 

“That’s my sister,” He said, chuckling at the girl. 

“Enjoy your family, catch up,” Ida said, standing and gathering her books to leave.  “ I would hate to interrupt.” 

He touched her arm, stopping her from running down the path of the gardens towards the cafe where Genevieve De Gualle was sure to be waiting. “You never answered, are you a student?” 

“Yes,” She said, allowing a small slip. Why was she telling him her legend? A stranger off the streets who wanted to watch pigeons and flirt shamelessly? “At the University of Paris.” 

It was all a lie. Papers provided by the British government made a good cover but not the truth. Marc didn’t seem to care, just grinning again. His smile was too bright and his enthusiasm continued to rise, the longer he looked at her. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Louise,” He said. 

“I’m sure you’ll try,” She said, and against her better judgment, she smiled. Ida turned and marched out of sight around a lilac bush.

Melting Iron

Chapter 1 - A Medival Fantasy Gajevy AU fanfiction

Read Here on AO3 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine Levy; you have nothing to worry about” reassured Princess Dragneel, the motivation however, fell on deaf ears as the bluenette continued to fret over the thought their new arrivals, her eyes unfocused, her heart racing and her mind working a mile a minute trying to figure her way out of the inevitable.

She had no problem meeting new people, sure she was not the most social person in the kingdom, but she could withstand the average amount socialness required to not seem abnormal or rude. It was however a certain group of individuals, that at the mere thought of them had the young lady’s skin crawling and her fight or flight mode kicking into hyperdrive. Scholars, professors, court advisors any job within a kingdom that required a high level of knowledge or education, it was not the position itself that infuriated her but rather the type of people that held these positions. Being a woman had its fair share of challenges as did being small, as did being young, when mixed these three factors create a brilliant target. She had struggled all her life to be taken seriously despite her clear unchallengeable intellect and because of this she could fill a book with all the times she has been unjustifiably belittled, and she fears something similar is going to happen soon.

The day was bright unfitting to her mood as the two ladies strode down the hallways into the entrance hall in preparation to greet their new guests. King Natsu was already stood tall and proud, with guards and servants posted around the hall. All the necessary preparations were already in order, the food was harvested from their thriving farms, and the most luxurious wines bought from the finest vineyards, all put together by Mirajane the lovely head chef and her dedicated team. The palace was scrubbed to withing an inch of its life, and the marble floors glistened and the light from the stained windows giving the palace a magical glow. Everyone was in place as the princess stood at the head of the entrance next to her husband. Levy took her place near them as she was a vital part of what was about to take place.

The giant doors opened and Prince Redfox ‘The Iron Dragon’ emerged, a hulking form of a man, all eyes were drawn to him, his intimidating presence demanding their attention and the room fell deathly silent. He had the eyes of a warrior who had seen a hundred lifetimes, his black steel armour thick and seemingly impenetrable covering him entirely from the neck down as his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hall. He was quickly followed by several guards and a few servants all impressive in their crisp and tidy uniforms, but that was to be expected, and finally, three old grey gentlemen walking gracefully in their drab and old-fashioned cloaks, by the gods she already bored to death just looking at them.

She could not look away from the fascinating prince as she was entranced by the display. He showed no clear sign of emotion on his face as he marched along to stand at the foot of the Dragneels. A smile graced the royals faces as the formalities began. “Prince Redfox we are pleased to welcome you to the fire kingdom” The king began “I hope you had a safe journey” It was clear to all that knew him that he was trying his best to be formal though it was not something he was suited for or enjoyed, although she can hardly blame him as she felt the same way.

The talked for a small while exchanging pleasantries that neither were that interested in doing, until it was time to depart. “Miss Lisanna would you be kind enough to escort Prince Redfox to his room” It was getting late and the official work would start in the morning. Just before the prince turned to leave his eyes ghosted over Levy, taking in her petite form and colourful dress as she stood out from the crowd with her blue hair and a long flowy orange dress that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, it was only brief but their eyes met and it felt as if she was holding his stern gaze for an eternity. And just like that he was gone, everyone dispersing and getting back to work as the prince and his entourage were all heading to their rooms and getting prepared for a grand meal that would be hosted later that evening.

Levy released a breath that she did not know she was holding when the room was almost emptied, and the new arrivals were out of sight. Turning to the princess, they smiled at each other and both visibly relaxed. “Well that went rather well I think, don’t you?” Lucy seemed pleased as she should, the next few weeks are going to be particularly important for both parties and a good first impression could make all the difference. “yeas, it was quite successful, I think he’s pleased” Lucy’s eyes lit up at this and a mischievous smile appeared on her face “Oh yes, I would definitely say he was pleased with what he saw” She teased. The two women had been friends since childhood, so this kind of informality was common when no one new was around, newcomers would probably be surprised or appalled at the way a servant would speak to a queen so they kept up formalities in front of quest as to appear professional.

A blush covered the smalls girls face “What are you talking about Lu? You are crazy”

“Please, I saw that little look you two gave to each other” She was trying to contain a squeal as she inched closer to the girl, Levy crossed her arms and shook her head. “That wasn’t anything he was just looking around the room and we made brief eye contact, hardly anything to gush about” Natsu just playfully shook his head at the two of them already knowing what they were like and gently wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulling her away muttering something about getting washed up before the banquet, he gave a passing look at Levy and she nodded at him for saving her from her friends incessant interrogation, he really was life saver in more ways than one.

Brushing off those childish remarks, Levy made her way back to library which was basically her second room judging by how much time she spends in there and on more than one occasion accidentally slept there. It was silly teasing and nothing more she assured herself, Lucy did that sort of stuff all the time, even so there was no way a man such as himself, a prince and soon to be king and esteemed warrior would be interested in her and just on look alone no less, she never really considered herself a prize. He wasn’t even her type, most brutish were mean, hard headed and stubborn, who usually wanted nothing more than a simple little wife to sit still and look pretty and birth a healthy heir, and surely prince Redfox was exactly the same, that was not the life for Levy she decided that long ago.

 Later that evening when the moon had risen, a handful servants and butlers arrived and began to serve the food with practiced elegance, everything looked delicious anything you heart or stomach could desire was placed perfectly on the elegantly decorated table, the room was lit with candles creating a wonderfully calming atmosphere, the plates and cutlery adorned with gold, the dining hall was exemplary from ceiling to floor and most certainly fit for a king.

There were few places set at the small table, as this certain dinner was only for the people involved in the plans for the alliance and approaching war, it was meant to make the stay more hospitable and hopefully ease the tension between the royals.

Everyone took their seats Natsu at one end with Lucy by his side, and Prince Redfox at the other with who she expected to be his right-hand man on his right, she heard from Lucy that his his name was Pantherlily. The three ‘ancients’ as she has nicknamed them, sat stiffly together looking as dull as ever, a long blue haired beauty was also there although her role at the moment was unknow, our captain of the guard Erza Scarlet sat opposite me, her eyes were stern as she scanned the room for anything potentially dangerous, she was seriously devoted to her kingdom and her job, she was a lovely woman but she could be truly terrifying when the time called for it, and to her left Jellal Fernandes a brilliantly clever battle tactician and although they never showed any outward affection in public everyone knew they were courting. Levy was a communication expert and all round ‘know it all’ she helped with anything she could usually involving books, scrolls, languages, or even runes and she was damn good at her job despite her young age.

Everyone began tucking into the gigantic feast and the mood lightened as everyone was dazzled by the display of food and put at ease by the abundance of alcohol, light chatter filled the room as people began to become familiar with one another when one of the ancients began to speak up “I am looking forward to this impressive team of scholars that you have spoken so highly of your King Natsu” His words were polite but his tone was dismissive. Thankfully Natsu swallowed the abnormal amount of food in his mouth before he spoke. “You already have” he stated at then motioned towards me with one hand and grabbing more food with the other. The room went silent and all the new arrivals were clearly shocked, it was unusual for a woman to be in such a position so this feeling was hardly new to her, especially the old ones, everyone was looking at her and she began to feel a bit awkward so she did a quick little wave and hoped that would do. “This one woman?” It was not so much of a question as it was an accusation, it was evident that he did not like the fact that I was a woman not many noble men did but he didn’t want to be so open about it and risk damaging a new relationship.

She looked over to the prince to try and get a gage on how he felt about the issue, but she could still tell nothing, his eyes were locked on her but so were everyone else’s. She hoped it would not cause a problem as it had in the past. “Is there a problem with that?” Natsu’s tone was raised slightly. Despite not knowing the king for long he had already grown protective over his wife’s best friend and it was extremely sweet, but she desperately did not want to be the cause of a big scene. “No, no, no your highness, of course, that is not a problem at all” he backed down thankfully, but he shot a nasty glare at Levy before averting his gaze that no one seemed to notice, or so she though, so things slowly began to settle down again.

The prince stayed quite throughout the majority of the meal but their eyes met every so often, she was beginning to worry that he would think that she was weird, so she took to chatting to the fellow bluenette on her left. She was a shy lady, but they seemed to get on quite well and she did not know who this Gray man was but the way she described him made him sound like a god.

Deserts came and went and Erza nearly stabbed the king she swore an oath to protect for trying to take the last of the strawberry cake. All were merry and having a good time just as Cana promised, why we trusted her to choose the alcohol was beyond her as even she was beginning to fell a bit tipsy from the two small drinks she had. As the evening progressed people began to filter out of the room until it was just her and the prince who still seemed unaffected despite the large amount of alcohol he consumed, not that she was watching or anything mind you.

You could taste the awkwardness in the air, as she took another sip of her drink successfully finishing it, and in her mind planning on a quick yet courteous exit. But just as she was about to get up to leave, he grabbed a somehow unopened bottle of whiskey names ‘Los demonios beben’ also known as ‘The Devils Drink’ no wonder it was untouched nobody would dare at an event like this, it was most likely Cana’s work that it was even got here. “Would you care to have a drink with me?” He asked but he was already poring it into his small glass and was moving to grab hers. “I am not sure if I should” She was a little bit of light weight but did not want to admit it. “Why? Can’t you handle it?” There was a small glint in his eyes and a slight smirk on his lips as he challenged her, fine if that’s the game he wanted to play, she would bite. “That’s rich coming from you, a man who’s basically swaying on his chair” It was subtle, but she was observant and just managed to pick up on it.

She was a bit taken back from her own response as her mind stopped working, she had just insulted the fearsome prince! just as her mind started whirling trying to put an apology together he let out an odd little gihi as he placed her drink back in front of her. It was far too strong for her taste but there was no way she would let him know that, after her first small sip she glanced back at him to see he had already finished, his cockiness all over his face, that smug bastard. Now determined she gulped her drink down as fast as she could without spilling and then snatched up the bottle and pored herself another. What had gotten into her? This was not like her, plus this was an especially important mission she could not embarrass herself like this in front of a prince. But it seemed it had the opposite effect as he looked rather impressed. But of course, he had to one up her by taking a large swig straight from the bottle, and as to not fall behind so did she.

Before she knew it, the bottle was empty, and she realised they were entering dangerous territory as his predatory eyes raked over her. “Well I have had a very nice evening, but it is time I turn in for the night” she said standing and giving light bow and hoping it didn’t look like she was stumbling, luckily she didn’t slur her words too much or at least she didn’t think she did. His dazzling smile only wavered for a second before he too stood up and starched out his hand “You’ve been a worthy adversary, but I’m sorry you lost” Ever the diplomat she grasped his hand in a solid handshake and returned his light hearted banter “please I let you win, goodnight Prince Redfox” And with that she left.

On her way to her bedchambers she passed by Mirajane and Lisanna who both smiled at her and nodded she prayed they didn’t realise she and the prince were the last ones out or she would never hear the end of it from any of the girls and that’s really not what she needed right now.

Aziraphale/Crowley Fic Recs

AKA “There is SO much Good Omens fic nowadays, with more being added at SUCH an incredible rate, that I keep forgetting to bookmark things and thus completely lose track of what I’ve read and what I liked and which ones to watch for updates and which ones I might want to read again and etc etc. So, for the sake of my own sanity, I have made A List.”

And I thought, hey, might as well share.

I’ve divided this list into WIPs and Complete Works, but otherwise, it’s a jumble: canon-verse and AUs, short and long, ranging in rating from G to E and incorporating various tropes and headcanons. I tend to gravitate toward happy endings, so there’s probably nothing too dark or soul-crushing, but as always, buyer beware, pay attention to tags and content warnings and your own personal tastes. Works are listed in chronological order of first publishing, simply as a neutral and objective way to list them, and more will be added intermittently as I read new ones or rediscover ones I forgot.

Hope this helps someone find some good reading and directs more attention to some well-deserving work!

-- WIPs --

On Espionage and Prophecy (or How to Accidentally, but Wholly, Fall in Love With a Soho Bookseller) by RockSaltAndRoll (June 15, 2019)

1941 is the London Blitz and the year that MI5 really comes into its own with the now infamous ‘double cross’ system. The service keep tabs on suspects, root out enemy agents and try to turn them into doubles.

Anthony J Crowley is fucking great at this job. He can be sneaky, underhanded and damn ruthless but also charming and kind. It’s what makes him good at turning.

Aziraphale is just a regular Soho bookseller who loves his shop and books and good food and wine when he’s approached by a woman claiming to be MI5, wanting to recruit him for espionage. The poor man is too trusting and gets the shock of his life when he’s approached by a charming but dangerous-looking man also claiming to be MI5.

Crowley recruits Aziraphale to double cross a double crosser and Aziraphale takes to espionage like a duck to water.

Danger, hijinks, and sex ensue.

Show Me a Great Plan by WriteDreamLie (June 17, 2019)

A.J. Crowley is an eccentric "business man." A.Z. Fell is a bookseller who refuses to sell any books.

After Fell (unwillingly) helps Crowley out of a sticky situation, the two become oddly fixed on each other. And their relationship could just be the thing that saves them both.

icing on the cake by Etheostoma (June 18, 2019)

Between the black attire, swaying hips, slouching pose, and affected “devil-may-care” attitude that actually belied an incredibly sensitive nature, A.J. Crowley was a walking puzzle—and one that Aziraphale, when he allowed his thoughts free rein, wanted desperately to solve.

That being said, at the end of the day Crowley was also technically his employer, and therefore even the thought of anything more was decidedly not a Good Idea.

Vita Nova by AMidnightDreary (June 18, 2019)

“Angel, bloody hell. Hi. You doing okay? Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

It was quiet for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said then, still polite, but a bit perplexed. “Who is this?”

Crowley, upon finding that Aziraphale does not remember him, is very much Not Okay with the changes Adam made after the Apocalypse That Wasn't. He can't do anything but try and make the best out of it, though. (Which is a lot easier than it should be.)

Sparse Clutter by ItsClydeBitches (June 26, 2019)

A fic bingo collection featuring twenty-five, one word prompts. Whole thing is probably best described as "Ineffable husbands stupidity with a hefty dose of gen world building," but I'll chuck brief summaries below as I update!

Strange Pilgrims: Being the Account of a lost Angel, the Journeys of a Demon, the meaning of Free Will, of the Unravelling of a Prophecy, and of Being Unravelled by it in Turn by sousverre (June 26, 2019)

"Aziraphale going missing" would be quite enough drama for Crowley to be getting on with, thanks very much - even without a prophecy that seems to be implying the significance of Feelings, and especially with every gargoyle in London trying to reunite them.

But when he does find the angel, Aziraphale has lost his memory, his wings, and insists that he is happily married to some kind of investment banker.

Right. So the first step is to fix all that, somehow, and then - and then - and then everything can go back to normal, like it was before, which is all Crowley wants.

Right.

How do we fix this?

Put Out The Fire by Aleakim (June 27, 2019)

Aziraphale finds himself in a very awkward position as some sort of spell makes everyone merely glancing in his direction instantly fall deeply and desperately in love with him.

Absolutely everyone.

Well, apart from Crowley, that is.

And while both angel and demon search for a solution to this fairly unique problem, Crowley can’t help wondering whether Aziraphale might finally figure out some things he kept hidden for so very long.

Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots by gutsandglitter (July 3, 2019)

Ninth Circle Ink was hardly more than a stone’s throw from the flower shop; Aziraphale knew from past experience that it took less than thirty seconds to go from door to door (forty-five if you had to wait for a car to pass). It had been a perfect arrangement in the beginning, when they were just starting out.

aka the flower shop/tattoo parlor (human) exes AU that nobody asked for!

You Can Have Your Cake by eragon19 (July 4, 2019)

Aziraphale has been working as Anathema's assistant at her wedding planning service for near on a year now. He thinks he's seen it all, from meddling parents to nervous brides, and in one case an ex with a penchant for arson.

What he isn't prepared for is a reluctant groom with a liking for black leather and a smile that has Aziraphale's mind going to places it most certainly shouldn't. Especially since the man is getting married, no matter how awful his fiance is...

To the Stars by StarRose (July 9, 2019)

The happy ending Titanic!Au no one ever writes but everyone always imagines in every possible fandom. Aziraphale is being forcibly sent to America to be forcibly married to Gabriel. Crowley is going to forcibly screw that up.

A Matter of Convenience by ylc (July 15, 2019)

There comes a time when even the most fervent enemies must call a truce and what better way to cement such truce than a marriage? And if the involved parties happen to be the most troublesome members of the ruling families… well, that’s all for the best, isn’t it?

Barriers, and the Breaking Thereof by Cardinal_Daughter (July 16, 2019)

Ezra Fell has long been comfortable in his loneliness. He’s content to simply run the Soho Public Library and otherwise keep to himself. However, when a handsome stranger bursts in one evening with a baby, frantic and in need of help, Ezra finds those carefully constructed barriers he’s long maintained begin to crack.

Perhaps it’s time to let them fall.

Series of one-shots focusing on the lives and developing relationship between Ezra Fell and Anthony J. & Adam Crowley. Human AU.

Lavender, Chamomile, and a Rather Permanent Arrangement by southdownsraph (July 17, 2019)

Crowley owns the flower shop across the street from A. Z. Fell's tattoo shop, and can't help but be intrigued by the slightly eccentric, yet incredibly friendly tattoo artist. When Crowley does finally pluck up the courage to talk to him beyond the occasional pleasantries, he kicks off the beginning of a friendship that could so easily drift into something else entirely.

Pride and Prejudice and Angels by SanSanFanFan (July 20, 2019)

Hampshire, England, 1809

Miss Crowley's plans for a small temptation near the South Coast go awry as she realises that Aziraphale is not only a guest of a neighbouring landed gentlelady but also suffering under some kind of malady.

Match-making! Balls! Fainting! Happily Ever Afters???

Celestial Bodies by LieutenantLiv (August 3, 2019)

The year is 1923. Aziraphale's friends at the gentlemen's club invite him for a weekend away in Devon. He asks Crowley to join. It gets very silly and very messy very quickly.

That's just how things were in the roaring twenties.

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm (August 9, 2019)

As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following:

--His clothing was expensive and stylish; --He wore very strange but noticeable cologne; --His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;” --He looked angry; --He was wearing sunglasses.

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

-- Complete Works --

Anthophilia by FortinbrasFTW (July 7, 2014)

Anthony J. Crowley's life seems like it's finally falling into place: his floral shop has begun to gain an undercurrent of appreciation in the design elite of London, and he might have even finally found a boyfriend who looks just right lounging on his Tenreiro sofa. Things seem almost perfect, until one day the empty shop across the street is leased to frumpy fellow Oxford alumni, who doesn't seem to remember Crowley nearly as well as he remembers him, which really shouldn't bother him as much as it does - it was ten years ago after all, and it wasn't even that good of a kiss.

The Rose Thief and the Priest by ImprobableDreams900 (January 8, 2018)

When horticulturist A. J. Crowley sees a rare breed of rose in a churchyard, he decides he won't stop until he can get a cutting—even if he has to go through the church's stuffy priest to do so.

Running in the Shadows (Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies) by soft_october (May 10, 2019)

"In plain terms, Mr. A. Fell was a man of impeccable conduct and unusual habits, and in a similar manner to many of whom bore the first two traits, he must also take up the third: dire loneliness. Yet it had not always been thus. Indeed, there once was a time when it seemed as if he should never know solitude or want of suitable company for the rest of his days, but the circumstances by which Aziraphale might have unwound the knot that now bound up his heart had long since dragged themselves, mortally wounded, to die in the shades of regret. Their ghosts hung in his past, growing in consequence with the singular passing of each year until they eclipsed even the death of those who had the foremost hand in their making, and had the effect of separating the sequence of his days of into a gentle, blooming Before, whose painful beauty made the egregious scars of the After that much more appalling."

What Aziraphale does not know is that, from across the ocean, Mr. Anthony J. Crowley is returning to England with his newly aquired wealth, wanting nothing more than to rebuild his life after a terrible shock and, perhaps, discover why he had been abandoned by his fiancé ten long years ago.

You Might Think I’m Crazy (All I Want is You) by soft_october (March 29, 2019)

'“Look I understand, you’ve got to check up on the new occupants, make sure I’m a proper ‘fit’ for the neighborhood or whatever euphemism you’re going to use this time, 'the greater good,' I saw the film, I get it. But I peeked in at the place next door the agent mentioned and if you aren’t bothering him I really don't think you should be-”

“I’m your neighbor,” Aziraphale interrupted. “I own that place next door?”

“Oh.”'

Since the next shop over closed down, Aziraphale's had a peaceful few months, barring those unpleasant interactions with the men in cheap suits who keep trying to persuade him to sell his shop. But now a (handsome) new owner has taken up residence beside him and, horror of horrors, he wants to open up a coffee shop.

A Home at the Beginning of the World by stereobone (June 6, 2019)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me."

creatures of circumstance by attheborder (June 10, 2019)

Anthony J. Crowley, Jr. is the prodigal son of CrowleyCorp, the UK’s most powerful, dangerous, and controversial technology company.  

A one-night stand with a mysterious man who calls himself Aziraphale tips his hopeless life upside-down into a dangerous obsession.

And somewhere else entirely, a girl-shaped creature is presiding over the back room of a bookshop in Soho, where an angel and a demon lay unconscious on the floor…

Bending Space and Time by Draco_sollicitus (June 11, 2019)

Crowley could never have envisioned a miracle quite like making an angel smile.

And when that angel is Aziraphale, well, he'll do whatever he can to experience that miracle again, and again, and again.

(Crowley spends the twentieth century bringing books to Aziraphale in an effort to make his angel smile a little more)

the words of the prophet are written on the subway walls by volantium (June 11, 2019)

Aziraphale and Crowley do the twenty-first century. (Or, Aziraphale and Crowley, dorks in love, post-Apocalypse).

a picnic plan for you and me by theapplepielifestyle (June 12, 2019)

“It’s angel food cake,” he said. He waited. When Aziraphale did nothing but nod politely: “It’s funny, see, ‘cause-”

“No, no, I get it.” Aziraphale nodded again. “Very funny.”

“Oh, shut up, it is-”

“May I ask what brought this on?”

Crowley paused. “Can’t a guy just want to try baking?”

(Or, Crowley makes Aziraphale food after the world doesn't end. It has absolutely nothing to do with how much he wants to make Aziraphale smile.)

with urgency but not with haste by Sanwall (June 13, 2019)

Aziraphale moves to the South Downs and gets bees, and Crowley gets into one of his moods.

The Play’s The Thing by volunteerfd (June 16, 2019)

“Who was at the very first rehearsal, hmm? Who read over Shakespeare’s shoulder as he put ink to parchment? If anything, I know Hamlet just as intimately as I know you.” Aziraphale picked up his teacup again and looked at Crowley over the rim of it. “Maybe even more.”

Crowley was tempted to ask if he’d fucked Hamlet.

****

Aziraphale is cast as the lead in a community theatre production of Hamlet, a lifelong dream of his and a lifelong night terror of Crowley's. But, as the hapless Crowley helps him run lines, it becomes a mystery why anyone would let Aziraphale on stage. Tears are shed, skulls are crushed, monologues are butchered, and through it all, Crowley remains supportive. After all, the show must go on--even if it is the fifty billionth production of stupid, overrated Hamlet.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by 13thDoctor, JHarkness (June 17, 2019)

5 times Aziraphale and Crowley were mistaken for a couple, and the 1 time they weren’t.

A Regular Rip van Winkle by aurilly (June 20, 2019)

After almost an entire century spent asleep, Crowley wakes in 1888 to find the world more changed than he thought possible. His first order of business is to find his angel.

Also concerning the origin of the Baroque gavotte (spoilers: Aziraphale was feeling thirsty).

A bookshop is not a business by anactoriatalksback (June 22, 2019)

In which Aziraphale has no intention of selling books to anyone at all, let alone this infuriatingly persistent customer. No matter how nice his cheekbones are...

like a prayer for which no words exist by lipsstainedbloodred (June 23, 2019)

“What do you want, angel?” Crowley asks before Aziraphale is even properly in the room.

“Hullo my dear,” Aziraphale sounds cheery but also awfully worried, “I hadn’t seen you since - well, since-” Since they’d swapped bodies back; since Crowley had turned tail and ran from St. James’s Park like the Devil himself had been on his heels.

(in which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead)

far too much in love to see by imperiousheiress (June 25, 2019)

“Hello, can I help you with anything in particular?” Aziraphale asks. And then, he freezes.

Inexplicably, impossibly, it’s the same man who had entered the shop the last time they’d been open. He’s sure of it. The man who he’d felt a rather insistent urge to garrote.

(Or, one of Aziraphale’s regular customers takes a little too much interest in Crowley, and Aziraphale feels somewhat unfamiliarly unpleasant about all of it.)

The Holiest by merle_p (June 26, 2019)

So when Aziraphale hears, through the grapevine, that an exorcism is supposed to happen on New Year’s Eve in Major Gruber’s flat, he knows that despite his general distaste for exorcisms, this is where he is going to be, on the slim chance that the demon Major Gruber and his spiritist friends have found is the same one Aziraphale appears to have lost.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Gefionne (June 26, 2019)

Because they can’t see each other more than once every few decades, Aziraphale suggests that he and Crowley write to each other to pass the time apart. As quills for their letters, they exchange wing feathers: a gesture of great intimacy that Crowley is convinced only he perceives the depth of. But time will tell that it’s not just him who sees it that way.

Night and Day by Gigi_Sinclair (June 27, 2019)

Five times Aziraphale and Crowley encountered queer historical figures who know more about them than they do, and one time they actually have a clue.

Needed a break, gone to France x by sleepymccoy (June 28, 2019)

A week or so after the nopocalypse Aziraphale takes a holiday that, unfortunately, sends Crowley into a bit of a tailspin about where they're at

In Holy Matrimony by Myracuulous (June 29, 2019)

From the private journal of Alisha Jones, wedding planner, concerning the nuptials of Anthony J Crowley and Aziraphale and the planning process thereof, containing an account of chosen decor, guest list construction, and the holy war against the Antichrist that nearly ruined six months of professional organization and a very nice dinner.

Acts of Service by seekwill (July 2, 2019)

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

greatest hits by attheborder (July 2, 2019)

“But my dear, I just can’t believe you never told me that you had joined a musical group. I would have come out to support you— at your gigs!”

“First of all, never say ‘gigs’ again. Second of all, not my fault you never noticed when I showed up to dinner with a great big guitar case slung over my shoulder.”

(Aziraphale accidentally discovers Crowley’s secret: he was in a band in the 90s. And he wrote a whole album of love songs…)

Nanny Knows Best by DictionaryWrites (July 5, 2019)

Being a nanny, that should be simple. Simple. Easy as pie.

Crowley wished that were true.

human childcare for the occult (and ethereal) by suzukiblu (July 10, 2019)

The Dowlings miraculously need a nanny and a gardener at the same time, and Aziraphale suggests they flip for it. Crowley takes one moment to picture Aziraphale nannying anyone and calls dibs. It’s not that Aziraphale’s terrible with humans, he’s just, well. Terrible with humans. Truly, truly terrible.

He doesn’t want to deal with Aziraphale getting metaphorically guillotined or kicking up security’s paranoia, basically. A gardener can be a little odd, and no one will notice or care. Except Warlock, perhaps, as the only other person with any real reason to spend much time out on the lawn, but Warlock’s the one they want noticing so that’ll be fine, Crowley’s sure.

Even if it does make him cringe a little, leaving Aziraphale in charge of the plants.

keep me close by Iselmyr (July 17, 2019)

Aziraphale was expecting to see a talented but otherwise ordinary performance of Les Misérables with a genderswapped cast. Aziraphale was not expecting who came onstage.

Crowley was expecting an ordinary second night show, because Aziraphale always goes to opening nights, and Crowley never performs on them.

Except, this once, Aziraphale missed the opening, and came to the second night. Everything else snowballed from there.

lit in the darkness by ToEdenandBackAgain (July 17, 2019)

Aziraphale returns to Crowley's flat for the night after Armageddon. After all, it's hardly the first time they've shared sleeping arrangements. Or: Times throughout history Crowley and Aziraphale have shared a bed.

Reflect What You Are by Owenjones (July 17, 2019)

It's a year after the almost-apocalypse. Aziraphale makes Crowley go see a therapist.

“Have you been having any issues in particular?”

“Issues? Such as?”

“You tell me.” She could tell he had something on the tip of his tongue.

Crowley sat for a second, then blurted out, “He thinks I’ve been sleeping too much. He’s worried.”

An Answer to Prayer by Jupiter_Ash (July 20, 2019)

Prayers can be answered in a multitude of different ways. When it came to a certain cottage in the South Downs though, no one had expected it to be answered by the squealing wheels of a classic Bentley and Queen's Princes of the Universe.

All Karen wanted to do was sell a house.

The Ineffable Temptations of Oysters by gimpy_terry (July 20, 2019)

Wherein Aziraphale sometimes invites Crowley to dine on oysters with him and Crowley definitely takes him up on that offer.

did you open up your heart there? by weatheredlaw (July 21, 2019)

or were you quiet and afraid? — Aziraphale and Crowley meet over and over and over again. Aziraphale doesn't know what Crowley is, or why their souls can't seem to be parted, but he is a creature of love, and he's not going to argue with that.

A Machine for Living In by pineapplesquid (August 6, 2019)

All Crowley wants is to see the inside of the bookshop so that he can get this design for the building next door done so the clients will be happy and his bosses will stop yelling. What A.Z. Fell wants, apparently, is for Crowley and the project that’s he’s working on to disappear. Permanently.

One of these might be more attainable than the other.

Title: Distance

Author: @emmakoneko

For: @hajimehinata-kun

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: “KomaHina in a temporarily long distance relationship (it’s like a few months) calling each other after a while”

Author’s notes: This is my first real fic, so I’m really nervous about posting it. (And I couldn’t think of a better title, my apologies for that.) I hope it’s good enough anyway.

As much as he’s changed since coming back from the dead, Nagito Komaeda still takes an empty table at mealtimes in Hajime’s absence.

It’s not that he’s quite invisible to the others, nor that he makes them uncomfortable as he used to. Most of them greet him in the mornings now, and he’s lucky enough to exchange small pleasantries with them when they run into each other in the library or on the beach. In general, he’s much better off than he’s ever been before, surrounded by people who notice him and seem to care about how he’s doing. He should feel a lot better than he does.

He should be happy that the Future Foundation is offering them second chances, that Hajime is out there spreading hope to the world. It’s only natural that they would want Hajime working for them, even if only for a few months, and it’s only natural that someone like Hajime would agree to it. Really, it’d be better if he stayed out there with them, rather than confined to this island.

The island is stifling, after all, and the good of the world is so much more important than Nagito’s feelings. Even though Hajime is supposed to be with him now. Even though he’s cleared half the books in the library and there’s nothing left for him to do.

Boredom and loneliness are familiar to Nagito, and it should be no worse than it’s been in the past. He’s not trapped in a sterile hospital bed, and he has someone out there who cares about him. Maybe experiencing Hajime’s love has made him more vulnerable. Maybe that’s why he spends most of his time in his cabin waiting for him to call, even though it’s shameful and everyone has surely noticed.

It shouldn’t feel unfair that Hajime is too busy for him when he’s like this, because he could’ve easily requested to go with, or asked Hajime to stay, and he probably could’ve had either, but it wouldn’t be right. Nagito can’t do anything special, and his presence brings calamity to everything around him, and he has no right to control Hajime or steal him from the world that needs him.

It’s a familiar situation the Future Foundation has placed him in - isolated, restless, longing for Hajime, but powerless to do anything about it. It’s fine, though. His luck will improve, and things will get better. He still believes this.

He waits three weeks.

-

It’s late into the night on Jabberwock when the call finally comes, and Nagito is immediately jolted from his half-rest by excitement, suddenly feeling more alive than he remembers being possible.

“Hajime?” he breathes, too eager to be polite, or successfully restrain his tone.

Hajime exhales sharply on the other end, and the sound crackles in Nagito’s ear through the poor speakers.

“Hey, uhh… Nagito…” a bit nervous, a bit excited, and awkward in that cute way he can be sometimes, making Nagito’s heart ache with how much he wishes he could see him. “How have things been?”

Boring. Lonely.

Nagito bites back the words he wants to say, and feels very guilty, suddenly, for not having anything better to report. Nagito has been ignoring his own unhappiness his whole life, and never before has he had to worry about it letting someone else down.

“Everyone is doing great. We all miss you, but we’re managing. And my luck has been pretty stable recently.” it’s not too much of a lie, and it’s for Hajime’s benefit, so Nagito shouldn’t feel bad at all. “I spilled some tea all over my book this morning, but other than that, nothing to report.”

“That’s… good.” Hajime says. “Not the tea thing, but I mean, everything else.”

“I can’t afford to get too comfortable with it, though.” he hates saying it, knowing Hajime will want to argue, but it feels necessary. “Are things going well on your end?”

“It’s… a lot of work. Nothing I didn’t expect, though. I think I’m doing alright.”

Of course he is.

Nagito isn’t sure how to feel. Hajime’s happiness should always be his priority, is most likely far more important than his own, and yet Nagito almost wishes Hajime would struggle more without him.

Hajime is doing amazing things out there in the world, he’s redeeming himself. Meanwhile, Nagito is trapped here, on this island, with nothing to do and no way to improve.

He thinks on how to respond without letting slip how he really feels or coming off unconvincing. It’s always difficult now, with Hajime sharper than before, and more invested in his happiness.

“What are they making you do now?” is the first safe response he comes up with. It’s something he’s interested in. As little as talent seems to mean now, thinking of what Hajime can do is still inspiring. Knowing he’s restoring hope to the world…

“A lot of boring stuff.” is what he says, though, sounding suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Today it was mostly gross medical stuff. Rescuing people. I’m just looking forward to going home.”

Even though it’s surely not just because of him, and Hajime’s friends are all on Jabberwock, and he probably just wants to take a break from the stress of working, Nagito feels warm.

Warm enough to get a little teary-eyed, honestly, which maybe should be embarrassing.

“Yeah.” he says quietly. “I’m looking forward to that, too.”

He doesn’t ask when that’ll be.

Apparently it’s ‘soon’. The Future Foundation had only requested a few months, and Hajime would surely reject an extension. It’s possible Hajime himself doesn’t even know.

“What are the others doing?” Hajime says. “You’re talking to them, right? I don’t want you to be alone.”

Guilt again.

It’s amazing that Hajime cares so much how he feels, far more than Nagito probably deserves. It’s also terrifying, which Nagito had never known to expect in all the years he’s fantasized about something like this. It gives his feelings more weight than they should ever have.

“I don’t really understand it, but Gundham and Sonia are planning a demonic ritual of some sort, and I think they roped Ibuki into it as well. They invited me to join, but I declined. Who knows what could go wrong if you mixed my luck with the occult?” and he’s sure they only asked him to be polite, just because he’d been in the library with them when they’d been discussing it. He doesn’t tell Hajime this. “Other than that, it’s been the same as usual. Not that you being gone isn’t affecting things, but they’re doing well.”

“I wish you would do things with them more often. When I’m not there.” Hajime pauses. “I… worry about you.”

Nagito isn’t sure if Hajime is blushing on the other end, but he can see it in his mind’s eye anyway. He’s gotten better at admissions like that, but he still gets flustered about it. It makes him especially pretty.

Of course, the fact that it’s so difficult for Hajime to say these things only makes it all the more difficult to respond to them. Nobody has ever been vulnerable with Nagito the way Hajime can be now.

There are too many wrong ways to respond when Hajime says something like this. Nagito picks them often.

“You should be worrying about bringing hope to the world right now. That’d make the most people happy.” it’s not meant as a rude suggestion, but he knows there’s no way it’ll be received positively.

Hajime is quiet, on the other end.

“Let’s talk about something else.” he says.

Nagito complies.

-

Working for the Future Foundation is exhausting on its own, but the part that drains him the most is having to turn off his emotions and become a shadow of himself in order to get anything done.

Coming back at the end of the day feels a lot like waking from a restless sleep. He’s afraid that any one of these days, he’s going to forget how to feel and become someone else entirely.

The only time he feels at ease is when he talks to Nagito, which is embarrassing to admit to himself but it makes him happy. Thinking about returning to him and everyone else on the island makes things a little bit more bearable for the time being.

“Gundham has been sleeping outside ever since his cottage caught fire during that ritual and has since been too damaged, which is really my fault for attending, so I doubt I’ll do it again.” Nagito is saying. “I’ve offered him to stay in mine, since it is my fault, but he declines. He doesn’t believe it was my aura that caused it.”

The world out here needs talent, and the Future Foundation clearly wants to use him again, but maybe Hajime is too selfish to prioritize the world.

He isn’t himself here, and everyone he cares about is on the island. And he knows Nagito isn’t comfortable being apart for so long, as much as he seems to want to hide it.

Truthfully, Hajime isn’t comfortable being apart for so long either, and whenever he lets go of the numbness, he inevitably shocks himself with how much he misses being beside him.

It’s been nine weeks. Nagito has made progress without him at his own pace, while Hajime remains selfish and messed up. Here he is, fixing the world he broke, and all he can think about is how he wishes he were with his boyfriend instead, how tired he is.

He wonders if quitting is an option, and what Nagito would think if he did. It’s not something he can just ask him.

If the Future Foundation ever sends for other reformed Remnants, he’s sure they’ll perform their duties with compassion, and it’ll mean something to them.

Meanwhile, Hajime just wants to go home.

Why the Jon/D*any romance doesn’t work (Part 5)

Hey, guys! This last part of my “Why the Jon/Dany romance doesn’t work” series was taken down in the great Tumblr purge and I am now reuploading it. I got a few messages from people wanting to read it and I’m really sorry it’s taken this long to get it back up again. But here it is! :)

This is actually the second part of the “More than 2 is a crowd” section of the series but since it got very, very long I split it up.

Welcome to Days of GOT, the soap-opera where your captor turns into your lover only to turn into your aunt:

The “we’re fucked but not in a good way” scene

As a general rule, I’ve decided not to take into consideration what any of the people involved in this TV show say in interviews or behind the scenes. They very willingly and intentionally mislead the audience and lie to our faces. I don’t hold it against them but I’m not going to spend my time analyzing and commenting on something that may very well be the writers screwing with me.

However, I find it very interesting that Kit Harrington said that he thought this was the scene where Jon and Dany started liking each other. Because this is, by far, the nicest, friendliest conversation they’ve ever had. It’s almost, dare I say it, human-esque.

Here, I’ll even give you some examples:

Jon: No one is less happy about this than I am.

Dany: I know. I respect what you did. Wish you hadn’t done it but I respect it.

Wow! Appreciation and respect … where have you two been for the duration of this plot?

Dany: […] We weren’t extraordinary without them (dragons). We were just like everyone else.

Jon: You’re not like everyone else.

Hello, validation! Nice to see you again, old friend.

See? Even I’ve been generalized into submission. He’s lucky he’s cute. That’s all I got to say.

Dany: I can’t have children.

Jon: Who told you that?

Dany: The witch who murdered my husband.

Jon: Has it occurred to you she might not have been a reliable source of information?

Dany, you lucky girl! You’ve just been struck by the ever elusive Jon Snow joke! Revel in it for it only comes out to play once a season.

So, all of this is very touching … I mean, I say very …. Mildly, in the near vicinity of touching. It would have been even better had this happened earlier and not in their last private conversation but at this point, beggars can’t be choosers.

However, once you strip away this veneer of friendliness, you do find some quite troubling things in this scene.

Firstly, there’s the main issue they are discussing:

Dany: This place was the beginning of the end for my family. […] A dragon is not a slave. They were terrifying, extraordinary. They filled people with wonder and awe and we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small and we grew small as well.

The problem with this speech is that it creates a conundrum for both the audience and Jon. Because Jon’s already heard the flip side of this particular coin, directly from his BFF, Jorah:

Missandei: Why did they build it? (the Dragonpit)

Jorah: Dragons don’t understand the difference between what is theirs and what isn’t. Land, livestock, children … Letting them roam free around the city was a problem.

So how does Jon resolve this issue? He doesn’t. He simply listens to Dany, looks around the Dragonpit and keeps his mouth shut.

Are we to understand that Jon Snow simply doesn’t care about children being burned alive because he wants Dany and her dragons to be as terrifying and awe inspiring as possible?

Isn’t it more likely to assume that Jon simply does what he’s always done in conversations with Dany, essentially keep his thoughts to himself and allow her to think whatever she wants? Which can only mean that despite their pleasantries, their dynamic is essentially the same it’s been since the cave scene. Which, by extension, means we’re just going round and round in ever increasingly polite circles.

Great! I got all excited with no rose petal covered way to go.

Then there’s this:

Dany: You were right from the beginning. If I trusted you, everything would be different.

Jon: So what now?

Dany: I can’t forget what I saw North of the wall. And I can’t pretend Cersei won’t take back half the country the moment I march North.

Remember when I said that Jon had no reason to bend the knee because Dany had already promised to help him defeat the Night King?

Tin foil hat: You know nothing, fortunatelylori!

Shut up, you!

Yes, Jon! You heard that right! A near death experience by either zombification or drowning, a dead uncle and a bent knee later and all you have to show for it is a better placement on Dany’s list of priorities. It used to be -100 before but now the goddamn apocalypse is neck and neck with Dany and Cersei’s competition for a piece of furniture. Enjoy!

The “what is fear of assassination anyway when my hormones are out of wack” scene

I could analyze every line in this scene but I prefer to cut through all the boring travel arrangements that no one paid attention to and cut to the chase:

Jorah: My queen, love of my life, end all be all of my existence, your safety is paramount to me. Please fly to Winterfell and not risk getting blood all over your pretty blond wig.

Jon: Aaa ... I mean it’s your choice, obviously, but ... would you rather fly and be safe or get on a boat and possibly have sex with me?

Dany: Sex with Jon  on a boat, definitely.

However, I will say this is a very interesting line:

Jon: It’s your decision, your Grace. But if we’re going to be allies in this war, it’s important for the Northerners to see us as allies.

It sort of feels like Jon is not giving Dany a choice at all. It’s more of a “my way or the highway” type of proposition but again Dany’s too far down the rabbit hole to notice the difference.

The “this better be good, guys! The whole of Westeros is watching” scene

I’d love to link to b0atbang here but Tumblr hates that scene as much as we do. So for your convenience, I have decided to put my considerable artistic talents to good use and I have drawn what I believe is almost an exact representation of it:

Guys, I spent almost 30 seconds in Paint doing this so please show me some love. Tread carefully, Tumblr, for you are treading on my dreams!

We started this section of the series talking about the “more than 2 is a crowd” rule so it seems only fitting that we should end with this: the most crowded sex scene since whatever porno film you watched last night.

There are 6 people involved in this scene and that’s excluding the actual two people that are having sex! Six people, most of them related to one or both Jon and Dany.

We have Jon’s mother but also Dany’s sister in law, Jon’s uncle but also adoptive father, Jon’s real father but also Dany’s brother, Jon’s brother who is actually his cousin, Jon’s best friend and also family member to the victims of Dany’s latest dracarys incident and lastly Dany’s closest adviser and also ex-husband to Jon’s sister/cousin/the current possessor of a “part of him”. This is Days of our Lives gone terribly, terribly wrong.

I don’t think I have to explain why this is romantic plot suicide. A sex scene between a romantic couple is supposed to be intimate, tender, sometimes steamy. It not supposed to be the smallest part of an elaborate montage designed to tell us that the people currently engaged in the devil’s mambo number 5, are actually related as well as de facto rivals for the Iron Throne.

A lot of people have commented on the inherent issues with the set-up of this scene, from the lack of a first kiss (an absolutely crucial part of any romantic pairing), to the lack of conversation before or after , to the horrible transition from a dying, blood soaked Lyanna to Jon and Dany in the midst of physical abandon and up to Jon’s strange expression:

Jon: I don’t think Tinder is working out for me.

What I would like to do instead is show you a scene that has quite a similar setup to this: it starts off in a bed and also includes the dreaded body flip. This is incidentally one of my favorite sex scenes. I am, of course, talking about the sex scene between Achillies and Brisies in 2004’s Troy. When I uploaded this the first time, @lostlittlesatellites  mentioned in the comments section that this film was actually written by David Benioff, which I had forgotten. So not only did the D reuse this set-up for the Jon/Dany scene but actually is well aware of the salient differences between the two scenes, since, you know, he was involved in writing both of them. Another nail in the “Ds suck at their job which is why they couldn’t write a better romance” coffin, I guess.

I would love to put this scene up here in all its glory. However, since Tumblr is a prude that can’t handle the gorgeous physique of one Brad Pitt, I can’t. Just type Achillies and Brisies into youtube because it’s a more liberated platform, incidentally with far fewer Nazis lurking around. Also here is a pic of Brad’s gorgeous abs. Tumblr, eat your heart out!

The body flip:

The body flip in the Brisies/Achilles is counterbalanced by the knife. These kinds of flips are awkward when filmed in a wide shot but the fact that she’s holding a sharp object to Achilles’ throat moves our focus towards the character’s faces and not the awkward body movement.

Focus on details:

When you watch this scene, you’ll notice that a large portion of it is Achilles pulling up her dress and slipping his hand underneath the material. That becomes a very intimate movement that, in turn, creates expectation … And expectation creates interest. It has a much slower build-up than what we get with Jon/Dany and it’s that prolonged moment that makes it sexier.

It tells a story:

This is very important. Words in scenes aren’t there just to make the writer feel important. They set the tone, the level of intensity and make the audience feel like they’re a part of it, instead of being kept at arm’s length because they don’t have access to the character’s thoughts.

The Troy sex scene is a whole story in itself: We start with Brisies trying to kill Achilles but hesitating. We have Achilles admitting he will kill more men and daring her to go through with her plan. We have him flipping her and then tentatively kiss her as she finally gives up and drops the knife to the floor. This is an intimate, character driven scene that marks the transition of these two from enemies to lovers.

That’s not to say that Jon and Dany’s scene isn’t telling a story. The difference is that the story it tells is plot driven, not character driven. What makes their scene inherently interesting are the revelations we receive about Jon and how that will affect the plot moving forward. In that sense they become secondary characters in their own sex scene, just gilded cogs in a much larger plot wheel and far from breaking it, their sex scene is advancing it. To what end, I guess we’ll find out in season 8.  

 And that’s it, you guys! Hope you enjoyed this series. I do have a few ideas on what to write next but if there’s something in particular you’d like me to cover, let me know.

In case you haven’t read the other 3 parts of the series, you can find them linked below:

Part 1: Are D&D really idiots?

Part 2: Repetition and generalization are the death of romance

Part 3: When everyone and their mother has a different take on the same line of text

Part 4: More than 2 is a crowd

PS: none of the artwork in this meta belongs to me. Except for b0atbang which is the only piece of art worth mentioning anyway and which shall be hanging in a museum near you very, very soon.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5245 Summary: Protostellar - the earliest phase in the evolution of a new star. It begins with self collapse. And it ends by exploding outward in to light, a new beginning.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Protostellar: Chapter 5

Of all the wonders they had managed to accomplish in this beautiful new village, the first of its kind and a glorious combination of the best minds from multiple prominent clans, Madara would have thought that having good coffee in the office was a simple thing to expect. Instead here he was staring in to a cup full of what resembled sludge more than coffee and tasted like it too. He would have been better off drinking his own half-burnt concoction at home.

Hashirama sat across from him, happily sipping away at his own mug without seeming to realize what he was drinking. Maybe his taste buds had finally stopped working after so many years fo being subjected to Mito and Tobirama’s experiments in the kitchen.

“Wonderful morning, isn’t it?”

“Hn.” Madara grunted, shuffled down in his seat and trying to be subtle about checking the doorway of the conference roof again. He could feel Tobirama’s chakra just outside and wondered what the hell was keeping the man.

“You’re looking particularly cheerful,” Hashirama noted. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Shifting his gaze to his best friend, Madara weighed his options. If Hashirama knew about his blossoming relationship he would probably be blubbering with joy rather than calmly nattering over coffee so it was safe to assume Tobirama hadn’t said anything to his brother yet. After only a handful of quiet dates and nothing more risqué than heated kisses or wandering hands, it wasn’t so surprising that neither of them had seen fit to make a big deal out of it yet.

Which meant Madara was free to be as obnoxious as he wanted and Hashirama, the oblivious fool, would suspect nothing. Excellent.

“I had a wonderful evening last night making out with your brother behind that new restaurant in the marketplace. He’s got magic fingers, that one does.” Not a single expression touched his face as he spoke, nor did he give his voice the slightest inflection. As he suspected, Hashirama did nothing but roll his eyes and wave the statement away with one hand.

“Fine! Fine! If you don’t want to tell me then I can just go ask Izuna.”

“As if he’ll tell you anything more. Izuna hates you.”

“Excuse you, Izuna loves me!”

“He’d love you more if you didn’t insist on trying to hug him all the time. No means no, idiot.”

Madara snickered as his friend drooped with comical depression, making a mental note to warn Izuna that their Hokage would be on the warpath now, determined to make friends whether the younger man wanted to or not. It would be good for both of them, at least. Izuna needed to start speaking with more people outside of their clan or he would never be able to integrate properly. Even now his brother still struggled with the idea of clan before village and Madara blamed it on the fact that he rarely spoke with anyone not wearing an Uchiwa fan.

Both of their heads lifted when Tobirama came in to the room at last, his attention still focused on the woman walking at his side. Her marked cheeks and deliberately bulky shape marked her as an Akimichi but it didn’t really matter who she was. What mattered was the fawning expression on her face. Madara narrowed his eyes and tracked their movements as the woman put a hand on Tobirama’s arm to stop him and said something which made the corner of his mouth quirk up. It wasn’t quite a smile but it was close enough for Madara to huff and continue to watch closely until Tobirama broke away to come sit next to him.

As soon as the younger man caught sight of his expression he tilted his head questioningly.

“Later,” was all he said, deliberately packing his own emotions away to concentrate on the meeting.

Hashirama spoke at length about the other clans of the area to begin with. As the village grew and became a stable base of massive political power, they were receiving word from more and more places interested in alliances. Discussions about which of the small hamlets should have their protection or which clan should be allowed to discuss emigrating to Konoha tended to run on forever, heavily colored by prejudice and each clan’s personal experiences.

From there they moved on to even more boring subjects, though they were also even more necessary. The Nara, with their vast medical knowledge, wished to expand the hospital while the Sarutobi clan Head thought it was more important to expand the availability of electricity to the general public. Almost twenty minutes of arguing went by before Hashirama quietly asked why they couldn’t work on both projects, prompting the two clan heads to stare at him with unreadable expressions and Madara to roll his eyes.

Several other issues were brought up, discussed, resolved, or assigned further investigation until they came to the final issue on the itinerary and Madara tried to be subtle about turning his body to face Tobirama as the other man stood to address the room. His face had a very serious expression for a man talking about renewing contracts for the wheat grown in Wind Country, a little frown of concentration folding his brows inwards as he spoke about supply routes and price caps. Madara wanted to draw his thumb along that tiny wrinkle and smooth it out until it became a smile instead.

Keeping his hands to himself wasn’t the most difficult thing he’d ever done but it was still annoying not to be able to reach over and play with the hems of Tobirama’s sleeve. It seemed to startle his partner how tactile he could be but Madara supposed that someone who had never had the chance to witness an Uchiha relationship in a private setting had every right to be surprised. His people were very loving but also very private. Now that he had finally worked through the maze of his own emotions he saw no reason to be hesitant about expressing them in an appropriate setting – and pressing Tobirama up against one of their desks after this endless meeting sounded like a very appropriate setting to him.

When his partner finally sat down again Madara stretched out one leg until it rested against Tobirama’s, pushing lightly against it for no other reason than to appease himself with a bit of physical contact. After a moment of hesitation the gesture was returned and he hid a smirk by draining the last sip of coffee still in his mug.

Hashirama’s closing remarks went mostly over his head; he didn’t need to listen to a summary of what they had just went over, especially when he knew he would receive his copy of the minutes anyway. Madara drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair until finally they were dismissed and he stood to leave without waiting to exchange pleasantries with the other clan heads. A quick glance caught Tobirama’s gaze and he knew the other would follow after.

Only a minute or so after he made it to his office and dropped his empty mug on to the windowsill he heard the door open then close and felt the presence of Tobirama’s chakra, soothing and calm like the waters he so easily manipulated. His partner grunted in amusement when he was hauled forward and backed in to the desk without so much as a greeting.

“Hello to you too,” he managed to get out before Madara was distracting him with urgent kisses, fingers in his pale hair gripping just tightly enough to perhaps be a little possessive.

“Do I have something to be worried about?” Madara asked teasingly in the moments in which he pulled away to breathe. He received a curious sound and nipped at the lips searching for his own again. “The woman,” he elaborated.

“What woman?”

“That Akimichi woman.”

Tobirama leaned back to stare at him. “Are you jealous?”

“Every time you take your eyes off me,” Madara freely admitted. “I’m hardly going to claw her eyes out but it does make me feel a little territorial watching you get cozy with someone else.” He felt a wave of affection go through him as a little bit of interest dawned on his partner’s face.

“Oh?”

“Mm.” He bent his head to press soft kisses against Tobirama’s neck, thrilled when it arched deliciously to receive his affections. “Perhaps I should leave a mark or two. Here. Or maybe here. Then anyone who looks at you will know you belong to someone. To me.”

Instead of replying Tobirama only dropped his head back farther and released a shaky breath, letting him do as he pleased without complaint. Madara nipped him softly and drew his tongue across the fluttering pulse so trustingly exposed to him. Unfortunately leaving hickeys wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to alert his best friend to the fact that he hadn’t been joking earlier and so, with a heavy sigh, he pulled away before he could be tempted to follow through on the desire to leave his mark where everyone would see it.

He smiled when Tobirama huffed in disappointment and stole another kiss before pulling away a bit further, trying to keep his tone casual as he asked, “Who is she anyway?”

“The wife of their clan Head. She was filling in for him while he dealt with some internal issues.”

“Ah.” Which meant that she would not be a regular fixture at their meetings and he would not have to allot any energy to reigning in his jealousy whenever he saw her close to what was his. Relieved, Madara pressed them back together. “Until you told me yourself, I never realized Hashirama had passed leadership of your clan to you – in name at least. I wonder if any of them have ever realized that’s why you attend those meetings.”

“Likely not. As you said, it’s really in name only. I have no functional purpose.” Tobirama shrugged and Madara frowned but resisted digging further. He should really have a conversation about that with Hashirama but now wasn’t the time for it.

“What’s on your schedule for the rest of the day?” he asked instead, letting the issue go for the moment.

“Drafting that proposal Hashirama wanted me to do for the Public Relations Committee. Meeting with your brother to go over the security teams. Yelling at the idiot who misfiled the documents I sent over to the cipher core. Training with my students later this afternoon.” A whimsical smile touched his face. “At some point I need to do my laundry.” Madara snorted.

“Well I’m not helping with the last one and I have my own duties to attend to while you do yours but – training. In the usual place, I presume. I can make time for that.”

“You just like watching the children trip over themselves during taijutsu practice,” Tobirama accused him.

Madara laughed and didn’t bother to deny it. “I also enjoy watching you.” He laughed again when Tobirama turned his head away and attempted to not look as flustered as he clearly felt. Even the slightest compliment never failed to rattle him and Madara shamelessly piled them on whenever he could get away with it.

Of course, half the time they were wrapped up in teasing jabs so he wasn’t sure those counted but that was just who he was and Tobirama never seemed to mind.

He dragged the man in for one more fiery kiss that left him reluctant to go take care of his own duties. Eventually he managed to pull himself away and allowed Tobirama to head off to whichever task he had first on his mental checklist. Madara couldn’t help but find it sort of endearing how organized the man was with his time, both personally and professionally, and how he sort of herded the village along towards a progressive future like a very tired cat with a bunch of noisy ducklings.

Surprisingly time went by fairly quickly for him that day. Between dealing with a few disgruntled clan members and researching the subject of an upcoming mission he managed to stay busy enough that his thoughts barely had time to wander. Even more amazingly, he managed to beat Tobirama to the training field and had only just settled himself on his usual perch when a child he didn’t recognize came wandering out of the trees, looking around dubiously and pushing at his glasses. Madara blinked down at him and waited to see if he would get noticed up in his tree.

When Tobirama arrived he was proceeded by his group of students, all of whom made unholy noises of glee at first sight of the nervous boy awaiting them. Each of them plowed forward to surround the newcomer, chattering away on top of each other as usual. Tobirama’s eyes flicked up to meet with Madara’s in a silent question but he only shook his head. He wasn’t sure what the boy was here for –although he was sure he could get it in one guess.

“Don’t be shy,” Torifu exclaimed loudly. “You’ve just got to ask him!” He turned the boy around with a shove against one shoulder and patted the other encouragingly. Tobirama lifted a curious eyebrow while the boy straightened himself and cleared his throat.

“Senju-san, you are lauded as an exemplary shinobi and your tutelage comes highly recommended. I would be honored if you would accept me as your student.” He finished with a bow and Madara was glad that he was sitting far enough away that no one could hear him scoffing quietly.

“You would, would you? Hm.” Tobirama tilted his head with an intrigued expression. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“That’s not fair!”

At the same time as an enraged voice broke in to their conversation, yet another small body tumbled out of the bushes across the field. Danzo, if Madara recalled his name correctly, bolted over to swing a fist at Tobirama’s midriff, clearly frustrated when the blow was easily blocked.

“You bastard! Why!? You’ll teach all of them but not me!” His small face was dark with anguished fury but Tobirama regarded him coolly.

“I am not in the habit of repeating myself. My reasons have been explained to you. That you continue to whine like a toddler denied a new toy does nothing to sway me in your favor.”

“Just tell me what he has that I don’t! He’s a nobody, a nothing. I have to prove myself but he gets accepted without question!?”

Only when Tobirama’s face pinched even more tightly and his hand reached out to pluck something off the side of the boy’s neck did Madara realize why none of them had noticed another presence in their midst. As soon as the square of paper peeled away from his skin a wave of black chakra rolled across the clearing, filled with malice and discontent. Madara was uncomfortably reminded of himself in his younger days when he had watched his sisters get cut down before his very eyes.

Leaping down from his perch, he made his way across to stand at Tobirama’s side. It was unlikely that anyone that small and untrained could get passed his partner’s impeccable defenses but the feel of that clouded chakra next to Tobirama made him nervous anyway. Still, he couldn’t help but pity the child a little. He likely wouldn’t have handled such a rejection any better at that age.

Tobirama said nothing about the protective stance he fell in to, busy eyeing his students with a promise of death in his narrowed gaze.

“Now where would he have gotten one of my chakra suppression tags?” he ground out between his teeth. Before him, the line of youngsters cowered and shuffled their feet. Hiruzen was the one to speak up.

“All I did was show them to him sensei, I swear! I promise! I didn’t know he kept any!”

“You and I will be having a long talk about responsibilities and situational awareness later, Saru.” He spared one more glare for his student before turning back to the angry little face staring up at him expectantly. “As for you, I believe it is time I had that talk with your clan head. You will learn to accept what answer you are given.”

Watching the twist on the boy’s face and the way his fists clenched hard enough to dig fingernails in to skin, Madara hummed thoughtfully. “He reminds me of me,” he murmured from the corner of his mouth. Tobirama sent him a withering look.

“Then you train him. I will not trust lives in to the hands of someone who so clearly cannot follow orders.”

Madara jerked his head back to stare at his partner. Him, train a child?

It was a ridiculous thought but he didn’t have time to say so before a hand had closed around the end of his obi and tugged to draw his attention downwards. Danzo stared up at him with steely determination in his eyes, droplets of blood smeared on his palm.

“Will you!?” he demanded. Madara opened his mouth but nothing came out. It snapped shut again to allow him a moment of thought.

“Interesting.” He was aware of everyone watching him as he slowly circled Danzo but paid them no mind. “You’ve made such a fuss about having Tobirama as your teacher but you so easily turn to me in his stead?”

“You’re stronger,” Danzo replied bluntly. Madara barked out a laugh.

“In some ways yes.” By the look on Tobirama’s face he was probably going to have to make up for that later but it would hardly be the first time they had bickered over something so he plowed onward. “I will not be as kind a teacher as him. Nor do I have any experience teaching children. This will not be a comfortable experience for either of us.”

“Noted.” The boy puffed himself up and jutted out his scarred chin, doing his best to look tough. Madara did nothing to hide his amusement. Coddling this little sprout was definitely not on his agenda.

A brush of fingers against his own brought his attention back to the man at his side. Tobirama was looking at him with something unidentifiable in his eyes. “Are you certain? I seem to recall a conversation about how little you are able to stand children. Isn’t that why you hide up there in your tree most of the time?” Madara wrinkled his nose in offense.

“I am not hiding,” he protested. “Might as well, to be honest. I’m here anyway and the little bugger won’t leave it alone until he gets a bit of training. I was just as bull-headed and hot-tempered myself.”

“You still are,” Tobirama told him flatly.

“Eat me.”

He very much hoped none of the gathered kids understood the look Tobirama gave him in response to that. No words were needed yet he felt the back of his neck heat up with a combination of mortification and instant arousal. Luckily he was saved by yet another of their students interrupting. The boy who had joined them just today pushed at his glasses and glanced back and forth between them, calculating and thoughtful.

“I mean no offense, Senju-san, but if Uchiha-san is also willing to give lessons then I believe I would benefit most from his instruction. That is, if Uchiha-san is willing to take on more than one student.”

Madara blinked. “Let me torture one small human and see if it survives before I take on another.”

“Very well.”

“Perhaps if you introduced yourself?” Tobirama ventured, the tone of his voice both amused and slightly offended.

“Ah, yes. I am Mitokado Homura. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He bowed a second time and Kagami snickered, waving cheekily when Homura gave him a sour look.

“Right. Well. Madara, if you and your student don’t mind, the rest of us will be over there running drills. Saru, you’ll agree to being my guinea pig for the day, won’t you?” The man’s smile bared all of his teeth at once and looked anything but friendly. Hiruzen swallowed thickly but followed along with the rest of them as they all retreated to the far side of the field.

Madara and Danzo were left alone to stare and size each other up. He didn’t look like much, just a scrawny kid with a chip on his shoulder and hair falling in his eyes, but Madara supposed that no child had ever looked half as impressive as they wished they did.

“I didn’t really think this one through.”

True to his word, however, Madara did his best to pass on a bit of knowledge to his new protégé. Luckily he had spent many hours observing Tobirama at this same task so he had at least a vague sort of idea where to start. After a few tests to determine the boy’s current skill level he shamelessly stole a few of Tobirama’s earlier lesson plans to implement for himself. They didn’t run quite as smoothly for him, obviously, but he hadn’t really expected them to. He considered it a win that Danzo seemed content to study with him no matter how bad he was at explaining certain concepts.

His partner was a big fan of explaining the reasoning behind something. Madara preferred the ‘learn this because I say so’ method.

It took a few weeks in which he slowly came to regret losing the time he’d been able to simply sit and watch whatever Tobirama was up to but eventually Madara felt a little bit like an actual teacher. If in the meantime he also stopped by a certain bakery to get a few helpful tips from a certain old woman that was his business and no other teachers needed to know.

Just as he began to feel like he was getting the hang of things he found himself saddled with two more children and a surprisingly effective dose of puppy eyes from Tobirama.

“You want me to what?”

“We won’t be gone long.” Tobirama looked over his shoulder to where all six of the youngsters were gathered in to a little group, three of them nearly vibrating with excitement with the other three looked on with naked jealousy. “The Educational Board is trying to figure out the proper size of the teams for when students graduate from the academy, once it’s finished. A three man team seems to be the popular vote but they want a few examples of how well the teams will function.”

“So you want me to babysit some of yours while you’re gone,” Madara guessed. Tobirama rolled his eyes but his mouth was smiling.

“If you wouldn’t mind. They could train on their own for a few days but Koharu has a tendency to start getting creative whenever my back is turned and Homura sort of worships her so he’ll do whatever she tells him to.”

Remembering the trouble Izuna used to get up to without proper supervision, Madara sighed. “You owe me,” he insisted. He watched Tobirama check to make sure they weren’t being watched at the moment then jumped a little when the man stepped closer to run a finger down the front of his abdomen.

“And what, precisely, do I owe you?” The look on his face was positively wicked and Madara’s throat went dry at the sight of it.

“Should we be talking about this with them around?”

“They can’t hear us.” Tobirama smirked, not oblivious to the effect his question had. “So? Name your price, Uchiha, before I leave and you lose your chance.”

“Dinner!”

It was only one word and he nearly fumbled it, although that wasn’t what had Tobirama giving him such a strange look. “Madara, we have dinner all the time. You do realize what I just…what I meant, right?” Madara had the urge to smack himself across the face.

“Yes, I do. I meant a more private dinner. My house. I’ll make sure Izuna doesn’t disturb us. You bring a bottle of plum wine?”

“Ah. Yes. That sounds – yes. We should only be gone a day or two. I’ll hold you to that invitation.”

“Please do.” For a moment the two of them just stood there grinning at each other like a pair of love struck fools until Tobirama stumbled under the sudden impact of a small body colliding with his. Kagami gave a terrible sounding war cry and demanded to know when they were leaving. Madara waved away the apologetic look his partner flashed him and wished them a safe trip.

When he turned back after watching his partner leave he found three sets of eyes staring up at him expectantly and sighed despondently. Ready or not, it was time to be a responsible adult.

Surprisingly things went much better than expected. He’d learned more than he thought he had about Koharu just from observing previous training sessions and Homura, as he’d been told, pretty much followed along with anything his friend did. From observing the way they all interacted it was easy to see that Koharu enjoyed being the little ring leader of their gang while Danzo, the sneaky little shit, enjoyed pulling the strings in a more subtle manner. He didn’t need credit as long as Koharu eventually decided to go along with his ideas, even if she had to be convinced they were her ideas in the first place.

Honestly Madara was kind of proud of such underhanded tactics.

Tobirama and his trio were gone for six days in total, long enough for Madara to begin to worry but also long enough for him to grow grudgingly attached to his own temporary team. He brought the kids with him to the gate when he finally sensed a familiar chakra just outside the village as evening began to fall. He was amused to see the way all four members of the returning team looked ready to fall asleep on their feet.

Always a stickler for duty, Tobirama made sure his kids signed in at the village gates before throwing dignity to the wind and unashamedly flopping his body over Madara’s shoulder with a heavy groan.

“Don’t move, I’m having a nap right here,” he declared. Madara bit his lip.

“You do know that anyone walking by can see us right now?”

“Don’t care. Exhausted. Just let me sleep, please.” Tobirama’s body melted further in to his own and Madara gave in to the urge to wrap his arms around the poor man’s tired body, patting the back of his dusty armor sympathetically.

“I supposed dinner can wait for another day. What do you say to crashing at my place?”

Tobirama grunted in to his shoulder. “I really thought the first time I slept over at your place would be the first time– nnh. Nothing. But I’m likely to fall asleep the second I get horizontal right now.” Madara laughed, grateful his partner couldn’t see the flush on his face.

“Let’s get you in to a bed then. You can tell me what happened tomorrow.”

Since the kids didn’t look like they had much more energy than their sensei, Madara instructed his own team to help the others home before setting off towards the Uchiha district, shifting Tobirama so he was ducked under one arm and supporting the other’s waist as they went. His stomach fluttered at the way Tobirama closed his eyes and let his head fall back, placing his entire trust in the man guiding him. Even among close friends it took a lot for a shinobi to be that comfortable with someone.

The walk home was slow going and Madara did his best to ignore all the strange looks they were getting. Seeing them walk places together was hardly an uncommon sight as of late but seeing Tobirama in such a ragdoll state was uncommon no matter who he was with. Madara was a little surprised with himself when he realized how protective he was feeling; he didn’t want anyone to see his partner looking so vulnerable.

It was a relief to finally open the door to his own house and usher Tobirama down the hall. Getting his armor off was a struggle, if an amusing one, as the man began dozing off while Madara was still working at the clasps of his pauldrons. His head lolled forward to rest against the belly in front of him and he groaned irritably when it came time to slide his breastplate over his head. The moment he was free of his armor and no longer receiving support to keep him upright, Tobirama flopped backwards across the bed in a graceless sprawl, hair fanning out around him and face already slackening with sleep.

“Don’t you dare,” Madara grumbled. “At least wait until I’ve got your head on a pillow.”

“M’tired,” Tobirama whined in protest, blindly swatting at him.

“Then get up on the bed properly and you can sleep for as long as you like.”

His mumbles were slurred and meek but eventually Madara was able to convince him – with a few kisses dusted across his cheeks – to shuffle up on to the mattress and roll underneath the blankets. A sleepy whisper so quiet that Madara almost missed it asked him to come lay down too and he bit his lip to stifle his reaction. How was anyone supposed to say no to that?

Of course, Tobirama had already fallen asleep by the time Madara settled down on to the mattress beside him but that didn’t stop him from spending a few minutes simply lying there, carding his fingers through pale hair. Who knew when he would have the chance to see this again?

Eventually he did get back up. The day wasn’t over for him and Tobirama was hardly going anywhere; he’d still be there when Madara did want to go to bed. It took willpower to drag himself away, though. The first thing he did was cook himself the dinner he’d been planning for once training was done, scarfing it down with gusto after not eating for most of the day. Afterwards he retreated to the living room with the proposal he was supposed to be going over. Technically it was Hashirama’s paperwork but the idiot had been fobbing off duties left and right as Mito drew close to her due date. Understandable but still annoying.

Several hours later the moonless sky was black outside the windows and Madara was yawning so hard he feared he might dislocate his jaw but the paperwork all seemed to be in order, which meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Looking forward to sleeping in the next morning, he stumbled down the hall and in to the bedroom, stopping at the end of his bed to smile foolishly at the sleeping man within.

It felt a little strange to take off his clothes with Tobirama right there even if he was fast asleep. Madara changed in the bathroom and gave his teeth a perfunctory brushing before stumbling back out and carefully crawling underneath the blankets to wrap himself around Tobirama’s body. The warmth of another person lulled him to sleep fast enough that he barely had time to appreciate the wonderful scent which had flooded his bed before he was lost in the land of dreams.

What I Feel For You

What I Feel For You

Request: Can you do a jim halpert one, maybe where he's pinning over her for soo long but he doesn't have the nerve to tell her?! And maybe just maybe, one of them gets drunk and kisses the other? I don't know, I trust you completely 😘

Would you please write some Jim Halpert x fem!reader? There's not enough fanfic for this cutie

Warnings: Fluff, angst, fluff and also more fluff, oh and maybe a couple swear words.

Pairing: Jim Halpert x Reader

A/N: It’s been a minute since I busted out a fic like this, so be gentle with me. For the sake of ease and to fit my story, this happens outside of any NBC aired episodes, and I won’t do any “talking heads” this time. This one-shot takes place between the Stamford Branch relocation and the end of Season 3, but there is no Karen (No offense Rashida Jones, but we hate Karen). Pam has recently broken up with Roy, and the fight DID happen. The title of the one-shot is from “No One” by Alicia Keys 

I always take requests! Check out my page to see who I’ll write for!

Word Count: 3.8k (This kinda got away from me…haha)

Summary: Jim and Y/N have always been close. She helps him through his Pam woes but longs for it to be her that he wants to be with. One night, after a long day at the office, they decide to have a pizza and beers night at her place, and things get….personal.

“Dunder Mifflin this is Pam. Oh, I’m sorry she isn’t in yet; can I take a message?” Pam Beesly looked up at Jim Halpert, sitting in the nearest desk clump with his back to the manager’s office and shrugged at his questioning glance. His clump mate, Dwight Schrute looked up and huffed in annoyance. 

“Why do people find it so difficult to arrive at their place of employment on time, consistently? This is why there should be a probationary period of one year before a new employee can stay here full time. What a joke our probationary system is.”

Jim rolled his eyes and glanced at the empty desk to his right, “Well, Dwight, Y/N has been here for 5 years. She would have been out of your probationary period at this point. And she is never this late. She could be sick, or her car could have broken down. Why don’t you cut her some slack?” Jim looked again at this friend’s desk and his face shadowed with worry. Getting up, he walked to the reception desk and looked Pam in the eye, “Actually, now that I’m really thinking about it, maybe we should call her and see where she is. She is almost 2 hours late and I don’t think- “

At that moment, you burst through the door of the office, breathing heavily and looking stressed. In your hands, you carried your purse and a cardigan, like you had time to do little else but run from your car to the office upon arriving. Walking up to the pair, you dropped the items in your arms on the floor and leaned dramatically on the desk beside Jim, “I am so so so so so sorry that I’m late you guys. My brother is still going through his nasty divorce so while he and his soon to be ex figure things out at their house I’m on kiddo duty, so I had to get the kids to school this morning, but I’ve quickly realized I am not equipped to handle the schedules of an 8-year-old, 2 5-year-olds, and a 3-year-old. I would have called but it’s been a mess all morning. How’s it going here? At least the doc crew isn’t filming today…because, of course, this is what I’ve chosen to wear. Fantastic.”

Jim smiled at you then, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Hey, we understand. Everyone does. It’s awesome that you’re helping out so much through this whole thing. I’m sure your brother is ecstatic that the kids don’t have to see this thing unfold. As for the outfit, I’m not sure what you’re worried about because I know for certain that,” he gave you a once over and tried to stifle a laugh, not exactly succeeding, “green pencil skirts paired with orange button-ups and brown loafers are very in right now.” You chuckled and smiled at him in thanks for his attempt at cheering you up. Unsurprisingly, it had worked. The two of you shared a look, and then you turned back to Pam with a questioning glance, “And how are you this morning, Pam? Your hair looks great!”

Pam smiled, “Thanks! It’s been pretty boring, as usual. I have a message for you though. It’s from the OA of our Utica branch,” She handed you your message and turned to answer an incoming call. 

Muttering your thanks, you bent down to pick up your purse and sweater and walked toward your desk with Jim following close behind. Setting your bag on the floor, and draping your cardigan over the back of your chair, you sat down across from Dwight, and smiled at him cheerfully, “Morning, Dwight. How was your night last night?” The man in question glanced up at you and scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I don’t indulge in idle chatter, you should know this by now. I don’t know how many times I have to say this to you, Y/N.”

“Well, Dwight, it's polite to make pleasantries with your coworkers, and I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to call me Y/N/N. My mother is the only person who calls me Y/F/N,” You replied, booting up your computer and sneaking a glance at Jim, who was pretending, albeit poorly, that he was not listening in to the conversation going on in front of him. Dwight opened his mouth to respond when the manager’s office door opened, and Michael Scott stepped out.

“Oh boy,” you muttered.

“Well, good morning there, Miss Tardy Butt. Well, I mean Miss Tardy Pants. I’m not trying to talk about your pants or your butt. I’m just trying to draw attention to the fact that you were late and tease you. But not in a bullying way. I’m not a bully. And it has nothing to do with my trying to assert my power over you because you are a woman, I believe women are just as equal as men in the workplace and all that junk-uh jazz,” Michael word vomited, trying not to fumble in front of the whole office and not exactly succeeding. With an uncomfortable silence and a cough, he started again, “Uh, Jim. Could I speak with you in my office for a mo, if you please.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Jim stood up and followed him into his office, shutting the door behind him. Dwight smirked at your concerned face and went back to his work. This is going to be a long day, you thought to yourself.

A few hours later, you looked up at the clock and realized it was time for your lunch break. You put your computer to sleep and headed back to the break room, lunch in hand. When you got there, you noticed Pam sitting at the table in the far corner alone, doodling. Jim and Oscar were sitting a table near the microwave, an open seat next to Jim calling your name. Jim looked up from his turkey sandwich and smiled at you as you walked toward the table, reaching out to slide your chair back for you.

“Hey guys,” you said happily, thanking Jim with a smile, and Oscar replying with a short “Hi” in return.

“So, Oscar was just telling me about this show out right now that he thinks I would like. What’s it called again?” Jim started, looking over at Oscar with a questioning glance. You waited for his response, considering Oscar usually had great entertainment recommendations.

“Oh right, it’s called Super Nanny. And basically, it’s about-“

“It’s about rotten children doing rotten things and their parents not doing anything about it. It’s absolute garbage. Actually, now that I think about it, you might enjoy it, Y/N.” Oscar was interrupted by Angela who smiled smugly at you from the doorway of the break room.

“Wow. Thanks, Ange. That was really kind and uplifting. I’m sure Jesus would be quite pleased with your behavior,” you replied, rolling your eyes and turning back to Oscar, not even missing a beat. Jim smiled smugly at you, always so amused by your ability to stand up for yourself, and take no prisoners. You felt him staring and met his gaze, but he quickly looked away with a cough, causing him to miss the blush growing on your own cheeks.

As the office was wrapping up its workday, Pam made her way toward your desk, looking anxious and self-conscious. She kept making sideways glances at Jim and that did not escape your notice. You sent the supply order form you had been filling out and finally looked up at her. You had never had a problem with her per-say, but you weren’t exactly her biggest fan, considering all the drama and hurt she put Jim through 24/7. In all honestly, she was the sole reason your best friend moved to another city. To be away from her and her fiancé, who she then dumped. And got back together with. And then dumped. And then watched while he took a swing at Jim. All things considered, you tried to be friendly to her because you didn’t want your behavior to negatively impact your relationship with Jim. That was more important to you than anything else in the world, and you weren’t going to jeopardize that.

“What’s up, Pam?” you said, making eye contact with the mousy girl with a small smile.

“Um, well I know it’s only 4:30, but I was wondering if you could cover the phones for the last half hour of the day so I could cut out early? If not, I totally understand. It’s just that I kind of have a date later and I wanted to go home and have plenty of time to get ready, it’s been a while since I’ve-“ you put your hand up indicating that she should stop talking. You glanced at your desk mate and best friend, who suddenly looked very interested in whatever was on his computer screen, but you didn’t miss his furrowed brow or the way he covered his mouth with his hand like he always did when he was upset or annoyed. “It’s no problem. Go ahead, and have fun tonight. See you Monday.” You got up without waiting for a response from her and sat at the reception desk. Pam waved goodbye and as soon as she was out of sight, you rolled your eyes looked at Jim. He was looking at you with a smirk, and when you glared playfully at him, his smirk only grew as he sauntered over to you.

“So, I have this that needs to be faxed to all of our biggest accounts. Now I know that it’s 4:35, but I need them done now, and I need confirmations that all have received them and then I need you to make copies of each confirmation and distribute them to Michael, HR, Accounting and myself. Can you do it?” He said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. If there was one thing you loved about Jim Halpert, it was his ability to turn anything into a joke. He always made you laugh. And his laugh. That brightened even your darkest days. And the way he crinkled his nose when he- “Earth to Y/N. I said can you do it?”

You shook your head to rid yourself of your ridiculous thoughts. Jim was your best friend and he was head over heels, over the moon, deeply in love with Pam Beesly, the most boring woman in the universe. “I’m sorry. I zoned out when you started to sound like Dwight.” You winked at him and he just laughed at you, you eventually joining in with him.

“Well played, Y/L/N. Well played. So listen. I was thinking. It’s the weekend, I have no life, and unless something has changed since 3 hours ago, you have no life. So what do you say you and I order some pizza, knock back some beers and watch cheesy 80’s movies until we both fall asleep under your coffee table like old times, huh? And this time I promise I won’t get any veggies on the pizza.” Jim looked at you with hope in his eyes. Any time he could spend with his favorite girl he would take. Regardless of what you believed, you were his favorite person to be around. Pam wasn’t even a close second. 

You pretended to consider his offer, but inside your heart was beating fast and hard against your ribcage, longing to jump out onto the desktop and scream at Jim, “YES YES I LOVE YOU YES PLEASE”. After a few moments, you sighed heavily, “I suppose that would be fine. As long as it doesn’t affect the grocery shopping plans I have for Sunday. I have had those plans for days now and I do not intend on breaking them for the likes of you, Mr. Halpert.” You winked at Jim, and he smiled at you happily, muttering an “Oh, I shan’t keep you.” Under his breath sarcastically. After another beat, you looked at him with a stern expression and reached your hand up to rest on his comfortably.

“Are you okay?” You asked, “Ya know, considering with all the stuff that Pam was saying earlier. You might be able to fool other people, Jim, but it’s not so easy with me. I know you heard what she said. You know you can talk to me.”

“What? Oh yeah. I’m good. It just kinda sucks I guess. Her knowing exactly how I feel and not even seeming to care that she is moving on after everything that happened without me. Ya know?” Jim replied, half-heartedly. You were none the wiser to his lack of commitment to his response, but he wanted to keep it that way.

“Well, how about this. Let’s knock back lots of beers tonight, maybe something stronger, and we can forget about her and her frizzy hair and stupid doodles and I’ll tell you so many great cheesy jokes, you won’t even remember her name. How does that sound?” You said, squeezing his hand before pulling it away.

“That,” he replied, leaning down close to you and speaking barely above a whisper, “sounds incredible.”

About 3 hours later, you heard a knock on your apartment door. Your dog, Karen, barked. When you had first got Karen as a puppy, Jim came over to play with her and after you had had a few beers, tipsily dared you to name her Karen after the computer wife of a certain undersea villain of your shared favorite cartoon. Never being one to back down from a dare, you accepted and you and the pup had been best pals ever since. You shushed her and hopped up from the couch to answer the door. You opened the door to reveal your best friend, grinning slightly with a large pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. 

“Hi there,” he greeted huskily, pushing off the door frame he was leaning on and walking past you into your house. After putting the food and drink on your coffee table in front of the TV, he finally bent down to give Karen the attention she had been begging for since her second favorite human had arrived.

“So, how’s it been since I last saw you…2 hours and 17 minutes ago?” You asked smirking as Jim stood up, then unceremoniously flopped down on your couch.

“Meh. I don’t know. I just feel…lost without you. I genuinely don’t know how I go on.” You chuckled and sat beside him, flicking his arm then grabbing it and putting it around your shoulders.

“Yeah. I don’t know either. I’m basically the best thing you have going on in your life right now. So…” You tried to reply with a straight face, but couldn’t help yourself. You let out a small giggle and a smile. 

Jim’s face got very serious then, his eyes boring into yours, “Yeah. You are.” 

You noticed his eyes flash down to your lips and then back to yours, but before he could even start to lean in you jumped up and ran into the kitchen. You coughed awkwardly as you grabbed plates, napkins and your six-pack of beer from the fridge and sat back on the couch, this time, further from Jim. You couldn’t explain what just happened. Jim can’t try to kiss you! You are his best friend. He’s in love with Pam, and you help him deal with that. You love him, but he doesn’t love you back….right?

It was now past 11 and you and Jim were laughing drunkenly at a joke he had just told about Dwight. After you had finished the pizza and both packs of beer, you decided that it was time to switch to something harder, because why not? You had cracked open a bottle of tequila and had been doing shots for an hour now.  You were practically sitting on Jim’s lap, and he had a head on your shoulder as you wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. You turned your head to look at him and he looked up at you with unfocused eyes, and your smile faltered slightly. Even now, drunk as a skunk, you felt your heart start to race as you looked at your best friend. Jim’s hot breath washed over your face, smelling of tequila and the remnants of the pizza he had finished off. He brought up the had that was resting on your hip to cup your cheek, softly running his thumb over the soft skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he said, starting to lean in toward you. Just as his lips were about to brush yours, you came to your senses and leaned away, putting your hand on his lips to stop him from pursuing you.

“Wait, Jim. What are you doing? We can’t do this,” You said, breathlessly. You could barely control your erratic heartbeat, or yourself enough to not lean right back in and attach your lips to his.

He looked down with so much conflict in his eyes, you suddenly felt sober and cupped his cheek instead. You lifted his head so you could look into his eyes. “Hey. What is it? You can talk to me. You know that.”

“No. No I can’t. No about this.” He said, standing up suddenly and almost losing his balance. Once he caught himself he started pacing back and forth, tugging at his hair and looking at you and then upwards in frustration. You stood up and blocked his path. Forcing him to look at you.

“Of course you can. We are best friends. There is nothing you could say to me that would change that. Is this about Pam? Look, Jim, I know it’s tough to hear but maybe it’s time that you-“

“NO!” Jim interrupted you loudly, making you jump slightly. Jim had never been one to raise his voice, so this was just more proof that something serious was troubling him. And an even more troubling thought came to your mind; Had you been such a bad friend that you didn’t notice whatever it was that had been eating away at him like this?

“No,” he said, softer this time, “Y/N. It’s not about Pam. To be honest, it hasn’t been about Pam in a long time. Maybe not even ever.” He looked you straight in the eyes with such an intensity, you felt your face grow hot, and you had to turn away.

“What do you mean, Jim?” You asked quietly.  

“I mean,” he took a step toward you, taking your hand in his without hesitation, “That I’m not in love with Pam anymore. I haven’t been since before I moved to Stamford. I’m pretty sure I got over my crush on her the moment you walked in to be Michael’s assistant that day. It took me a while to understand that’s what had happened, but you and I had built this friendship out of you encouraging me through that whole thing, and even after our friendship blossomed into something more substantial, I was afraid that if I came clean, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Wait. What are you saying?” You asked, confusion clouding your features.

“I’m saying that it’s you, Y/N. I’m in love with you. I always have been. I didn’t move to Stamford because Roy and Pam set a date, and I didn’t come back because I knew they were broken up. I left because I couldn’t bare the thought of loving you in secret one second more, but the thought of coming clean scared me somehow more. But as soon as I got to Stamford I realized my mistake. Those months without you were some of the worst of my life. You are the love of my life. I wake up and I know that as long as I see you for even a moment, it will be a great day. That day you called and asked me if I was moving back to Scranton, and we talked for hours on the phone, made me think that maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.  That maybe, when I got back, we could turn our friendship into something more. But when I moved back, and you started encouraging me to go after Pam, I knew I was wrong. So I did what I thought you wanted. And then that failed and I had to pretend like I was sad. I couldn’t give two shits about what Pam thinks of me. What I felt for her is nothing compared to what I feel for you. All I care about is that you are still in my life. And I realize that my drunk self-has just ruined any chance of that happening. But I’m so tired Y/N. I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you. Like I’m not in love with the way your eyes squint when you smile too wide. Or the way you seem to always have a bit more to give to the people who need it. Or how you know exactly what to say when I can’t take one more second in that office. You are everything to me.”

By the time Jim finished his speech, tears were pouring down your face as you watched his expression change from frustration, to passion, to heartbreak. This man who you had been pining over for so long had just told you that he loved you. You and not Pam. But you couldn’t find the words to reply. So you did the only thing you could think of. 

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped up to him and planted your lips on his, wrapping your free arm around his neck and bringing your joined hands to rest on your lower back. It took a second, but then Jim was kissing you back with so much passion it made your head spin and your knees go weak. As his lips moved against yours, you couldn’t help but think of all the moments when all you wanted to do was kiss him just like this. 

You finally pulled away for air and he pressed another kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he said with a smile in his voice, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

You chucked and leaned in, ghosting your lips over his, “I think I do,” You replied, before pressing your lips to his again in a searing kiss.

I was so excited to be part of the FMA Secret Santa this year! I had a hard time figuring out exactly what to do for a gift, and then I found about 15 other ideas before settling on this one.  I actually quite like how this turned out so I hope you do too, @rebeccacatalinas! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year!!  (Read under the cut because it’s long).

September

             It was September when she first met her. As summer heat finally began to give way to autumn clouds and rain, there she was. With short cropped hair the color of straw and eyes like her dad’s favored whiskey. This girl, no, young woman, was the kind that flew under the radar for most. She was quiet and calm and nothing if not polite. But beneath that, Rebecca knew there was more. Beneath the quiet, calm exterior was a force stronger than any Rebecca had ever seen before. Riza Hawkeye came into her life like an end of summer storm.

October

             They fell into an easy friendship, and as October brought more rain and clouds and dark, cold evenings they spent the time sipping hot cider and talking until after lights out and the dorm master would knock on the door and order them into silence. They would lay quiet for a while, each staring at the other unknowingly in the darkness and then Rebecca would think of something else and draw Riza back into easy conversation about the weather and classes and the latest gossip until they fell asleep in their own beds across the dorm room from each other.

November

             November hit with heavy rains and blowing winds. Training intensified, and Rebecca watched her new friend curl inside herself. When asked, Riza would assure her that she just missed her hometown’s harvest festivals and keeping busy in the kitchen, but Rebecca knew that wasn’t it. Though Rebecca wasn’t sure she liked the cocoon her friend was building around herself, it seemed to propel her forward towards some unknown goal with a fire in her eyes that Rebecca quickly grew to love. Everyone had a reason for being here, and Rebecca was sure Riza would share her reason for being here soon enough.

December

             With December came the first frosts. The walkways became icy and crunched under their boots as they made their way to the range. The cold bit through their coats and they walked quickly, shoulders brushing against each other as they hurried towards warmer buildings. Proximity no one else on campus would ever share. Some of the guys, insulated from the cold by their larger build, laughed at the pair as they walked as one. But their laughter didn’t last long once they saw the girls shoot. They were each other’s only competition for the top of the class after all.

January

             January was full of ice and slush and freezing rain. The cold didn’t stall their blooming friendship though, in fact it seemed to propel it forward. Blankets became scarce when the heating went out in the dorms for the third time that winter, so there was no choice really, but to pool their resources and pile all the blankets on one bed and huddle under them together. So long as both girls were back in their own beds by morning nobody had to know or care that they cuddled together for warmth in the dark and cold of the night.

 February

             It’s February when they finally get a day off. The war in the Ishval has been getting worse and so they have been worked extra hard even though it is only their first year of training. Being top of the class has its rewards, and they are granted a day off campus while the lower ranking students in their class are pushed harder. They spend their day at the little movie theater in town watching whatever is playing at the time. The theater is warm and dark and after their grueling past weeks they fall asleep leaning against each other.

March

             When they say that March comes in like a lion they aren’t kidding. As soon as the sun starts to thaw out the ground training intensified again. They jogged through the thick mud wearing heavy packs until they were covered in sweat and gritty mud from head to toe. They didn’t talk so much anymore, each too tired and sore from the extra workouts to exchange pleasantries. Not that much seemed pleasant, the wind still howled about them as they ran and the war kept getting worse. It seemed that it was always bad when people were scared and angry.

April

             April came and they finally had fallen into their new routine. Their endurance was increasing and they were better able to keep pace with their workload as well as their workouts. Things in Ishval seemed to calm a little bit as the spring flowers poked their heads out into the world, though their training didn’t slow down they felt more at ease with the pace of it. No longer were they frantic and rushed and they were able to spend time talking and sharing funny stories of their past once more, no longer too tired to smile as they joked.

May

             Being bright young women, by the time May rolled around, everything seemed to be slowing down for the coming summer heat, they quickly became bored with their routine. Rebecca managed to convince Riza to explore campus with her in their downtime. They found a mostly abandoned building on the far west end of campus full of musty old files and dusty old conference tables. The building had been an office many years ago, but now had been forgotten except to use as a dumping ground for old files. Luckily, locks were easy to pick for those that were curious.

June

             June came and as the sun beat hot against the ground, Riza was picked for more advanced training. Rebecca was a little hurt to be left behind, she was second in the class after all, but she had no say in the matter. When Rebecca had time, she would sneak into the abandoned office and browse the old files. Ancient personnel files, mostly of students that didn’t make the cut, and tax forms from years before Rebecca was even born. The reading was interesting but lonely. Rebecca spent most of the time worrying about what was to come for her friend.

July

             July came and went like a fever dream. One hot, sticky day melting into another as Rebecca and Riza were pulled further apart by the higher ups. They kept Riza so busy the only time Rebecca really saw her friend was when she was asleep in her bed, too hot to bother with blankets as she hung halfway on the bed, halfway off. Rebecca often rolled her friend further onto the small mattress and finished taking off her friend’s boots. They were working her too hard too fast and with the war heating up again Rebecca could only worry more.

August

             Lightening forked across the dark sky the day the orders came down. Riza Hawkeye was to be graduated early and sent to the frontlines. Both girls paled as Riza read the letter aloud in their dorm room and Rebecca couldn’t help the tears from welling in her eyes. She knew she had been right to worry.              “Promise me you won’t die?”              “Don’t jinx me, Becca!”              “Please, Ri, just humor me.”              “I promise I’ll come back alive.”              They spent their last night together wrapped in each other’s arms as rain beat against the window, both scared of what would happen next.

READER HOROSCOPE FOR FEBRUARY 2017

Turning the celestial pages of love

AQUARIUS

Bust out the champagne and crank up the music - it’s your birthday month, and you are ready to party! You’re full of energy this month after a pretty drab and boring January, and it’s infectious! Have you noticed a recent uptick in the number of brunch and happy hour invitations in your inbox? Get used to it! You’re in the spotlight this month, Aquarius, and you are loving it. While you embrace moment in the sun, just be sure to monitor your calendar so you don’t overbook yourself. Looking for a high-energy read that fits your current mood?  Look no further than your lucky book for this month, a wildly imaginative and deliciously unusual account of the dawn of the modern era. You’ve undoubtedly heard snippets of the circumstances around the death of Anne Boleyn, or memorized some facts about the Aztec people in middle school, but be warned: this is history like you’ve never experienced it before. While you whisk around this month, charming the socks off of everyone you meet, remember the power that a sparkling personality and a tiny twist of fate can yield. Who knows, you may end up altering the course of history yourself.

 LUCKY BOOK: Sudden Death by Álvaro Enrigue

 PISCES

Time to bring out the bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, Pisces. You’re in desperate need of some rest, and this month is your time to finally indulge in the magical art of doing absolutely nothing. Well, okay...doing less. You know how to read your body, and you know when your mind is stretched to the breaking point - this is the time to slow down and use your spare time to just let yourself be. Work is work, and the pressure from deadlines and upcoming projects may trick you into thinking that you need to be on edge all the time, but that is simply not the case! Allow yourself to do what you need to do at the office, and then give yourself the freedom to pursue an activity you want to do - whether that be taking more naps, dusting off your baking pans, or settling down with a good book. And speaking of good books - if you’re looking for a long, juicy read to fill the time you’re gaining this month, your lucky book this month is just the ticket. Take a walk through several decades of history - from Kingston, Jamaica to the streets of New York - and read a fascinating fictional account surrounding the assassination of Bob Marley, and the world-changing events that followed. There’s no better time to sink your teeth into a gripping, spellbinding story than during a self-imposed exile from the noise and clamor of the real world, so get ready to dig in.

 LUCKY BOOK: A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James

 ARIES

One may be the loneliest number, Aries, but that's not a worry you'll have this month. People are just clamoring to be in your orbit, from friends to strangers to colleagues, and you're working on making your exchanges both smooth (always check your teeth after going to town on a kale salad!) and profitable (business cards at the ready!). Collaboration is of the utmost importance right now, as the connections you forge today will only help you become a better team player, listener, and person overall. Having at least one partner to work with in all things academic, corporate, or even romantic can help the both of you become greater than the sum of your parts - and perhaps even create the beginnings of a lifetime bond. The characters in your lucky book can attest to this: two orphans abandoned at birth, who grow up together and eventually fall in love. Follow them on a whirlwind journey through the world of dance and theater, through temporary separation and desperately trying to find their way back to each other to make their childhood dreams come true. It's a spellbinding paean to the wonders of enduring love, suffering difficult times, and coming out on the other side stronger together - an appreciation that you can truly share this month.

 LUCKY BOOK: The Lonely Hearts Hotel by Heather O'Neill

 TAURUS

There's no stopping you from getting what you want this month, Taurus, and it's inspiring to see. They don't call you the bull for nothing - you refuse to be deterred from going after your dreams, and you're willing to do just about anything to achieve the level of success you've always wanted. That means, of course, that this is a month in which your social calendar will be pretty bare bones: you only have so much time to spare, and getting your affairs in order to strive toward the next level in your career or passion is of utmost importance right now. When is the last time you spoke to your mentor? That's one lunch date that should be prioritized - you can have all the ambition in the world, but without a bit of guidance from someone who's seen more and experienced more, you may merely end up spinning your wheels or even end up suffering from the residual effects of self-sabotage. In your lucky book this month, you'll learn all about a nation that achieved an incredible feat  way ahead of its time: establishing a modern-day revolutionary theocracy. From the outside, Iran now appears to be dangerous, a threat to our way of life, but within it lies a much deeper and more complex story of the many religious thinkers, political operatives, poets, journalists, and activists that have staked their entire lives and beliefs on what they feel their country should represent and be capable of. For a mover and shaker like yourself, this is the kind of book you won’t know you needed until you're halfway through. Go get em, Taurus. We'll be cheering you on.

 LUCKY BOOK: Children of Paradise: The Struggle for the Soul of Iran by Laura Secor

 GEMINI

This month is focused on personal growth, Gem, and not a moment too soon. If you've been feeling bored and listless, then find a class to take or new route to run. If you've been feeling hopeless about the state of the world, use this time to push yourself to action - get involved in a way you may have been afraid or hesitant to until now. This is the time to expand your everyday reality, to take small leaps of faith that leave you with some pretty undeniable results. Your inner circle will be crucial during this time of self-discovery and boundary-testing: they're smart, reliable, and you trust them to have your best interests at heart. That is not a gift to be taken lightly, so be sure to learn from them this month, and let them know how much you appreciate their presence in your life. To assist you in thinking on a larger scale than you normally do, your lucky book this month is a small volume with dizzying scope. Learn the facts around some of our most common yet awe-inspiring realities, like the makeup of space and time, and the elementary ingredients that comprise our world. It's the perfect reset button, going back to the basics of our physical world and coming to a deeper understanding about how truly miraculous and beautifully fated our very existence is. You'll walk away from this book with a much richer perspective on life, and less fear around wresting control of your own, and shaping it in the way you've always dreamed. You know what they say about shooting for the moon, Gem. Landing among the stars really isn't such a bad deal.

 Lucky Book: Reality is Not What it Seems by Carlo Rovelli

 CANCER

Who says being a recluse is a bad thing? There are times you just need to be alone, to recharge and re-center yourself, and this month, it's your turn. A lot has happened over the past few months, both in your personal life and on a global scale, and if you want to be able to navigate the many different challenges that have presented themselves, reconnecting with your values and checking in on your state of mind is a must. This doesn't mean you need to confine yourself to your apartment at all times, just that it would be in your best interest to embark on a journey of some inner exploration, and maybe limit your social engagements to outings with only your closest friends. The clarity that can come from this time spent with yourself or with your most trusted loved ones is invaluable. The main character of your lucky book this month makes that discovery as well - on a trip to Greece to search for her missing husband, there are some questions about his disappearance that are never answered, but by the end of the book, she has plumbed her emotional depths and discovered long-dormant truths about herself that could only be found during a sustained period of solitude. Don't be afraid to do the tough psychological work of digging through your own impulses, desires, fears, and hopes - self-reflection is a skill that becomes more crucial the more life is lived. Dive in.

 LUCKY BOOK: A Separation by Katie Kitamura

 LEO

Once upon a time, there was a Leo who felt like they would scream if they had to answer another benign "How are you?" You know what, Leo? We certainly can't say we blame you. You're all about the real talk this month - you say what you mean and mean what you say, and don't have time for meaningless pleasantries. Life is too short for wasting precious minutes on anything but the conversations and experiences that will help you get where you're trying to go. January was a bit slow - the first month of the year tends to be a rough one - so now you're fired up, ready to go. Your mind is buzzing, and your creative energy is flowing - so keep that vibe going! The author of your lucky book this month is the perfect accompaniment to your current mindset: quirky and unusual, a series of traditional fairy tales with stunningly inventive departures from the norm. Is it a love story, a tragedy, or merely a series of strange misadventures? That's up to you to decide. Go on a journey filled with twists and turns, and surrender yourself to the glorious ambiguity of familiar stories turned on their head. I know you’re a straight shooter this month, but there is value in taking the road less traveled to your intended destination - or, perhaps, to a destination you didn’t even know you wanted to reach. You’re going to make it to your _______ ever after - and filling in that blank is the best part.

LUCKY BOOK: Mr. Fox by Helen Oyeyemi

 VIRGO

Fire up that blender and start stretching those limbs, Virgo - this month, personal fitness is the name of the game. Chances are, you’ve been following the news cycle obsessively, nearly driven to the edge with worry, and stress-eating is often the only solace to be found after going down a dark social media hole. No more! Banish the Doritos from your room and just say no to the peanut M&Ms. Get rid of the nagging guilt by listening to your body and doing what it’s politely asking you to do - put your health at the forefront of your concerns and allow yourself to shut everything else out, if only for an hour a day. Better yet, put your money where your mouth is, and get outside to volunteer with an organization doing the work you feel passionate about. Aside from it being a small humanitarian act that can go far, you’ll feel better for having spent your energy on an activity that helps put the world to rights, just a little bit, rather than simply complaining about it on your Facebook feed. After all, this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint - better to limber up for the long haul rather than let yourself burn out quickly. For inspiration, your lucky book of the month is a historically accurate account of a slave’s escape right before the Civil War - a reminder that despite even the most inhumane and depraved circumstances, the human will to persist, to survive, is more durable than we often believe. Remember the struggle others have faced before you: grieve their sacrifice, but take strength from it too. You are capable of more than you know.

 LUCKY BOOK: Song Yet Sung by James McBride

 LIBRA

Ooh, la la, Libra! Love is in the air this month, and you are just reveling in it! And what a beautiful thing that love is, when it’s free, and shared without guilt or shame. You feel light, unburdened, and that’s not an easy feat. Few can allow themselves to wear their hearts on their sleeve like you do, but that doesn’t make you weak-willed or unable to keep a secret. It means you have courage in an area where others often don’t: the courage to be rejected. The courage to be disappointed. Instead of hiding your affection for whoever has captured it, you’re letting it shine and going after what you want. In a world that increasingly favors mind games and obfuscation in matters of the heart, your approach is a wholly refreshing one - so don’t be surprised when it works! Your lucky book this month is written from the point of few of the outsider - the witness to an extraordinary love story that grows into a personal passion. Such is the power of love - particularly in this case, when it’s between a housemaid and a policeman, two individuals who come from totally different cultural and political backgrounds. As they struggle to legitimize their true feelings in a society that does not want them to be together, the narrator becomes more and more attuned to their private anguish, and is ultimately changed just by having seen their relationship blossom. If that’s not an endorsement of living and loving out loud - especially in a time and place where you are granted that freedom - then what is?

 LUCKY BOOK: A Word for Love by Emily Robbins

 SCORPIO

Kick off your shoes and relax your feet, Scorpio - this month is shaping up to be a quiet, introspective one. There’s no place like home right now, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of - everyone needs a chance to just relax in their own abode from time to time. If you’re feeling the sudden urge to paint, or change your curtains, or even do some plumbing - go with it! This is your sanctuary, and it can be incredibly therapeutic and soothing to put the time and care into maintenance that it deserves. Your home is much more than the physical structure, however; be sure to spend some time with the people closest to you as well. They are your anchors - whether it be your girlfriend, roommate, little cousin, or parents - and keeping you grounded can be a pretty taxing job, if we’re being honest here! Don’t neglect those relationships; they need as much maintenance and TLC as your apartment does. Your lucky book this month is a heartwarming, hilariously realistic tale of two families who learn, through a series of misadventures, how vital they are to each other, despite any build-up of resentment, or jealousy, or awkwardness. The people who love you the most know your flaws, and continue to love you in spite of them - and what an incredible reminder when the world just makes you want to lie down for a long time. There truly is no place like home.

 LUCKY BOOK: Modern Lovers by Emma Straub

 SAGITTARIUS

You’re just the life of the party, aren’t you, Sag? You’re radiating positive energy this month, and it is joy to be around. It’s rare that you run out of things to talk about, because you have opinions to share and refuse to keep them locked away! Good for you - a little bit of honesty is healthy, and breaks down walls that keep potential friends apart. Your forthrightness is attracting all sorts of people to you, and there’s a good chance that it may lead to a brand new friendship - or more! There is little doubt that you will find a kindred spirit in the protagonist of your lucky book for this month: a young woman who charms her way from small-town girl-next-door to mega-popular It Girl. You know the risks of laying yourself bare, inviting commentary and criticism from friends and strangers alike - it can be demoralizing and downright scary, as people will often take your kindness for weakness. This is where your signature optimism and honesty come in handy - sometimes in order to protect yourself, you need to let people know when they’re crossing your boundaries. And if they take offense, well then, that’s their issue. You know who are you, what you want, and you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself when no one else will. Keep doing you, Sagittarius. It suits you well.

 LUCKY BOOK: Funny Girl by Nick Hornby

 CAPRICORN

Work, work, work! Cap, I truly admire your commitment to your craft and seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. You’re firing on all pistons this month, breezing through deadlines and taking on extra projects - and killing it! This is your month of productivity, and so far, it’s a very successful one. Be careful to avoid burnout, though. If you haven’t already, scale back your side-ventures and hobbies, if only for the next few weeks while you’re in work-mode. Balance is vital - either work less and socialize more, or vice versa, but at all costs, avoid burning the candle at both ends. You always want to be economical with your greatest commodity - your time. But guess what, Cap? Being focused on your work actually doesn’t preclude engaging in play - quite the contrary. According to your lucky book this month, some of our most invaluable resources were the result of an innovator having fun. Makes weird sense, doesn’t it? Think about your own daily schedule. How much more productive are you when you actually enjoy what you’re doing? How much more exciting are the ideas you come up with when you’re truly enjoying the brainstorm, or are working towards an enjoyable product? Work doesn’t have to be boring - and, really, it just shouldn’t be. And you can - literally - take that to the bank.

 LUCKY BOOK: Wonderland: How Play Made the Modern World by Steven Johnson

Nameless Nobilis Session Four

In Which Our Party Decides Hiring Excrucians As Security Is A Good Idea.

Previously | Contents | First

Preparing for a party is quite hard work, and so our gang of protagonists had quite a list of things to do!

Lindsel, the Mistress of Lies and what Aureus thought was his father’s new mistress, was trying to keep our heroes on track. She asked them if they wanted to invite any family or friends.

Aureus wanted to make this party into an open event on Facebook. He had a plan to place a portal in a random warehouse, invite a whole lot of mortals and just have them chill at the party. He began to make arrangements for this, to Lindsel’s facepalming.

Luka had no real family of which to speak of, as they were a wanderer.

Tilde didn’t really consider Mattie’s family to be her own family, but after a bit of convincing Tilde left on her own to go see her old family. Thus, she was absent for a chunk of what transpired next.

Nobody knew where the birb was, but well, the birb couldn’t have much family, right?

As for the Lizard, the closest thing it had to a family was the Excrucian who saved it from smugglers. The Lizard was very eager to invite this friend, which made Lindsel’s jaw drop open.

The Lizard insisted on contacting the Excrucian, so when Lindsel left, the entire party decided on going along for the ride. It was determined that contacting this particular Enemy of the World could be achieved by ringing a certain magical phone number. This was how the Lizard contacted its friend all these years, which raised a few questions about lizards and cell phones.

The call wasn’t answered, but that was okay. A few minutes later, a finely dressed person in wonderful gothic getup and long pink hair showed up.

This was Licelte Rossmalt, who it was claimed slew this dead chancel and brought destruction to a group of smugglers many years ago. Pleasantries were exchanged, and Licelte was asked if they had been here before. They looked around before responding with an effusive yes.

For, you see, Licelte bore the Test of Light and Illumination that cracked open people’s flaws.

Aureus suddenly had a brilliant idea. Okay, so, a lot of people would be attending this party, right?

Lindsel had explained earlier that a lot of Nobles would want to schmaltz up to the son of The First Fallen. This Familia was already set to make waves in the Nobilis society. Thus, it was important that everyone be on their best behaviour.

Aureus was thinking that any party like this would need to have security, right? Bouncers to keep out the riff and the raff.

What if they hired the enemies of the world as bouncers? It would make their Familia look so badass, having Excrucians standing at the doors in their snazzy gothic uniforms and their dark, dark eyes. Other Nobles would be so amazed, and if anyone caused any trouble, they’d just be excruciated out of reality!

The rest of the Familia thought this was an excellent idea, and asked Licelte if they were interested.

Licelte was quite fond of the lizard child that they basically adopted, so they agreed, as long as the Familia would help them find something that could weather their test.

Aureus also asked – would there be any other Excrucians that would be interested in some honest work? Licelte said that they would ask around, dropping names like Coriander Hasp who was pretty handy with a gun.

And so security was sorted out! But our team wanted to chat to Tahom to make sure they were okay with this.

Tahom said that they weren’t that okay with it because Excrucians were bad news, but they had to admit that it was totally sick. As the conversation continued, Aureus basically “you’re not my real dad”-d poor Tahom and called them useless, so Tahom tore open a hole to the World Ash and escaped through there to sulk for a bit.

Next, the Familia needed to find a present for Lucifer – Lindsel strongly hinted at this, saying that it would be a lovely surprise and it was probably just expected of the Familia to pay tribute. Aureus strongly disagreed, saying that a macaroni drawing would please Lucifer just as well – and in all honesty, it probably would.

But before our Heroes could do anything – disaster struck! Aureus suddenly felt a tingling in the force! No, it was just the Estate of Appearances complaining loudly. Apparently, something was wrong in Tokyo!

So off the Party went to Tokyo, where they noticed something grievous. Tokyo is such a metropolitan and cosmopolitan and fashionable place… usually.

But it seemed like the entire city had rolled out of the wrong side of the bed and decided that it’d just go in its pajamas today.

This was horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. The Familia rushed to the most fashionable district, Harajuku, and saw that… nobody was fashionable! What a disaster! But they couldn’t see anything wrong.

So they slipped from Prosaic Reality to Mythic Reality, where all things had spirits… and saw a protest.

Fashion spirits, which looked like invisible people wearing wonderful clothes, were parading up and down the streets holding signs and chanting. They were surrounding a giant businessman whose head was in the clouds and who was distracted by his tablet. This must be the Spirit of Tokyo.

Also, small bits of black cloud were clustering around Luka. These were miasmas spirits of minor sorrow, who represented the disappointment that people experienced when they came to Japan and Tokyo and found out that it wasn’t actually an anime wonderland of hopes and dreams… and was actually like any other city in the world because it’s full of normal people and not anime people. They were sad, they said, because Tokyo wasn’t being fashionable and there was no disconnect between what people saw and thought about the place. They couldn’t fulfil their duty! Luka patted them and comforted them.

The Familia asked around and found out that this was a bit of a vague, not very thought out protest. The fashion spirits wanted more break times, more time with their fashion families! And they were mad at the Spirit of Tokyo because he didn’t listen to their pleas. The Noble of Fashion hadn’t come to see them in a long time – he used to, but now he was busy on some other world called Dionyl and he just wasn’t doing his job!

Aureus immediately began shooting off Persona miracles to make himself the centre of attention. He promised all the fashion spirits that he would personally take their complaints to the Spirit of Tokyo, but first they had to lift him up to the giant’s height.

So in a rush, the fashion spirits began to climb on each other much like the scene of the zombies surmounting the wall in World War Z, and Aureus was buoyed up. But the pile of fashion spirits came only to halfway the giant’s size!

The Lizard Emulated its own property of “Evolution transform” to embiggen itself, so Aureus stood on top of this mighty growing lizard and shot even higher. The fashion spirits began to buckle a bit under the weight of a Surprisingly Large Lizard.

But even this was not tall enough to speak to the Spirit of Tokyo! So Aureus miracle’d into existence the appearance of a mighty, giant Aureus in order to speak to the Spirit.

The Spirit turned and was a bit surprised to see a giant ghostly appearance standing atop a giant lizard standing atop of a horde of fashion spirits. He politely asked what was going on, to which Aureus went off on an impassioned speech about the plight of the fashion spirits. The Spirit of Tokyo was more concerned about how his economy and cultural health was doing, but after a while he accepted that how Tokyo was seen was also important. He knelt down to talk to the fashion spirits, and the fashion spirits were pleased.

Success!

The lizard-spirit-illusion pile was dismantled. After talking to a few more spirits, it was revealed that this protest was sparked by a beautiful woman with fangs and a classy smile. Curses, it must have been Vanessa Amaranthine, the Baroness of Paranormal Romance!

Aureus knew that he had a rival, now. And he knew how to deal with it.

He had to seduce the lady of Paranormal Romance.

He was the son of Satan, the ultimate bad boy. She must love the tropes of Paranormal Romance, so playing into those must make her happy!

But wait, they hadn’t gotten a suitable present for Lucifer yet!

So our heroes, still in Tokyo, went to buy a shitty anime watch from a stall. The Lizard invoked the miracle of Evolution, and the Familia watched in horror as anime watch spirits began to fight and breed amongst themselves until there was only one left – the Ultimate Shitty Anime Watch. Any quality of it being a Disappointment was removed by Luka, and then an Appearance of an expensive Rolex was placed upon it.

The anime that the watch portrayed was The Devil Is A Part Timer. Lucifer would admire the shiny watch, look past the appearance and then he would shed a tear as he remembered watching animes with his beloved son.

Truly, the perfect present.

As to what Tilde was up to…

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Clara and I had been friends for years. She was one of my first friends when I entered high school and we remained close pretty much throughout. Wed talked about dating a few times, but one or the other of us was always in a relationship. Senior year came around and her life really split apart, her dad kicked her out suddenly, her boyfriend had cheated on her and shed had a major falling out with the majority of our friends since her boyfriend was pretty well networked amongst them. She really needed a break and my family decided to provide her one. She had always been a good friend to the entire family, so it wasnt even a conversation when she needed a place to stay, my parents accepted her with open arms. She came with a duffle bag of things and moved into my little sisters room. She kept insisting shed only stay a week at most, but my parents let her know that she could stay as long as she needed to! At that time, I worked most evenings, getting home a little after 10pm, just in time to catch a late night talk show, chat a moment with my parents and then play something on PlayStation before I went to bed myself. The first night she was staying, I didnt even know it was happening! She had asked my mother, who had established all of the plans. So I came home after a long day to find Clara sitting on the couch with my parents watching the tail end of the news. I greeted her with a smile and got a snack while Jay Leno started up. We sat up and all chatted during Jay Leno. Once his opening monologue was over, my parents packed up and headed to bed. "Youre staying the night?" I finally inquired once my parents were upstairs. Wed all talked about it a little bit, but I wanted to hear from her myself. "Yeah. Your mom was too nice about it," she smiled, curled up under a blanked, wearing some flannel pajama pants and a tanktop with a black bra. I sat down next to her with a tortilla I had just nuked. "Mm, that smells good," she smiled. "Want it?" I asked, offering her the untouched snack. She politely accepted and I got up to make another. "So how long will you be here?" I inquired, waiting for the microwave. "Ill find a place before next week," she insisted, mouth half full of tortilla. What felt absurd about that was the fact that it was already Thursday, not leaving her nearly long enough to find a place. "Im sure its fine if you need to stay longer," I assured her, taking the tortilla out and rolling it up before heading back to the couch to sit down. "Your family is very sweet," she smiled. "Bah, stop it!" I played back. We continued to shoot the shit, chatting about my day at work and making stupid jokes that high schoolers do. By a little after midnight, we werent really talking about anything. We were really just... well, at the time, I wasnt sure! In hindsight, I think we both knew what we wanted to do, but were too afraid to take the next step. Our conversation circled about in empty ways, rehashing stupid jokes and mocking one another lightly. I think we were definitely flirting. But, 2am rolled by and we decided to head off to bed without so much as a kiss. I think we were both thinking it though. I certainly went to bed with the curiosity on my mind. The next morning broke and I headed downstairs for breakfast. I had apparently slept in quite considerably! I awoke to an empty house, everyone having gone out for things, my mother and sister out for groceries, my older brother out to work and my younger brother out to the gym with his friends to play basketball. I searched the whole house and nobody was home. Unless. I headed back upstairs and headed to my sisters room to find Clara curled up, still fast asleep. She had her tanktop on, but had taken off her pants and was just in panties, also, it appeared she had taken off her bra, her nipples lightly shone as the sunlight hit her chest. I walked to the bed slowly, looking at her lengthy legs, toned from running, but smooth and perfect. She was nearly 6 foot for sure, which was good since I am quite a tall fellow. I sat down on the bed and touched her arm. "Hey Clara, want some breakfast?" She rolled over slowly and opened her eyes. She stretched her arms over her head, her breasts puffing outward. She relaxed and looked up at me with a quiet smile. "Yeah. What time is it?" She yawned, sitting up. "Almost noon. I guess we could have lunch," she chuckled as she grabbed some jeans from her bag and slipped them up, shimmying into them, the waistband hugging her as on the way up. "Well, either way, lets eat!" She demanded, "Im starving!" Over brunch we discussed her recent break up and the subsequent fallout with a lot of "friends". She expressed feeling really hurt for many reasons, but also realizing that she was growing from this and that she didnt want such shallow relationships anyhow. "I like knowing someone is truly my friend, yknow? Like you!" I laughed. "I do what I can!" She insisted that I was doing exploited mature women way more than that, but I reminded her that it was mostly my mom who was being hospitable. "Speaking of which, where is your mom?" She looked around, seemingly realizing what I had: that we were alone. Completely. "I think shes at the store with Liz," I started putting away the food, my body stuffed from the little meal wed shared. She nodded quietly. "Oh hey! Let me show you something!" She darted up from the table and grabbed my hand, leading me upstairs to her temporary room. She rummaged through her baggage, finally settling on a small sketchbook. She tossed it in my lap and sat beside me. I held my hand close to hers, quite delighted by the contact! She was an artist and she loved sharing her work with me. I let my hand slide closer still to hers as we browsed her work. She walked me through each piece, skipping past pages of work she didnt like or prefer. I also noticed that she was using her other hand to point things out and flip the page. I looked down to see the sides of our hands touching, not anything new for us. Wed often gone to movies together in the theater, letting our arms rest close, even getting to the point that she rested her head on my shoulder. That said, it was all the more exhilarating in this context, wondering what a touch could lead to. That wonder quickly disappeared though as the garage door opened. "We probably should go downstairs," I insisted and she nodded, seeming a little disheartened. Perhaps she was wanting the same thing as I did. We headed downstairs and helped pull in groceries just in time for me to get ready for work. I couldnt help but wonder what would have happened if wed had more time. That and hope that wed have another chance this evening. So naturally, work dragged on hard. It was only 6 hours, but by 2 hours in I was almost completely over it! I went to lunch and texted Clara to complain about work. We exchanged pleasantries for 30 minutes and then I headed back to the. Longest. Day. Ever. By the time 10 rolled around I was exhausted from sexual tension, entirely self inflicted by endless fantasies. Id imagined her in her panties and her tank top, imagining running my hands through her dark, wavy hair. I imagined the touch of her skin and the look of her body. I got home to the usual scene: parents on the couch, wrapping up watching the news and Clara there, nestled in a book with a pair of red shorts on and a black tank top. I put a tortilla in the microwave and sat at the dining room table, leafing through a fashion catalog absentmindedly. As I stood up to retrieve my tortilla, Clara stood in the kitchen, looking at me. "How was work?" She asked, maneuvering past me to take a seat at the table. I sat down, mouth full of food. "Long... Boring and long. How were things here?" We yammered back and forth, my parents coming into the dining room about 30 minutes later to say good night. We cordially replied and then went back to our discussion. Or, tried to. I felt like the entire energy had changed in that moment. We were really really alone quite suddenly. She finally broke the silence, reminding me where I was in the midst of a story. Again, we just shot the shit, chatting about nothing, but sitting really close. I didnt want to let tonight go to waste without seeing what could possibly happen. I devised a plan. "Man, wanna go sit on the floor? Im exhausted and the floor looks comfortable," hella smooth! "Oh yeah?" She smirked, shaking her head. "What?" I followed as she headed to the carpeted floor, sitting down on a pillow. "Oh no, you were right this is SO much cozier," she teased. I didnt know how to reply, she seemed to be calling me out for something (and rightfully so) but also didnt seem upset about it. Id love to say that I had some quick get back, but I froze up and just changed the subject. Not as smooth as I wish I was. We just continued on lazing about the floor, our bodies and faces drifting closer and closer together. We sat less than a foot apart as she watched me, my words empty and her ears deaf. She kept glancing down at my lips and Im positive I returned the gesture. I would say nothing and she would reply with a snarky affirmation, her eyes becoming impatient, knowing full-well my intent, but my courage still too small to overcome the unscalable distance between us! She would even tilt her head to accommodate a very simple trajectory to a kiss. I dont remember many details from the conversation, just that she leaned even closer to me and said something along the lines of "oh yeah professor. And what else do you have planned?" And something in those words was enough to bridge the gap between us. Enough for ME to bridge the gap between us. I leaned in, grabbing the side of her neck and kissed her gently, her lips inviting and soft. Her whole body eased to me as we finally made contact. And this wasnt the feeling of making contact after two hours of conversation, this was the feeling of making contact after nearly 4 years of knowing what we wanted. And I felt that need reciprocated in her kiss. She put a hand up and held my neck, holding me against the kiss. She laid back, forcing me to lean over her, our clad chests meeting. This already felt more intimate than any other kiss I had engaged in before, our bodies touching as we held into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around behind my head as I stroked her cheek, barely coming up for air when we needed it. So, we lay there and made out breathlessly in the front room of my house, completely lost to the world for a brief moment. I slowly came to though and realized that we were quite compromised here. Both the front door and the stairwell were within eyeshot of where we lay. My brother was still out and about and could come home at any time and if we made too much noise, we might wake up my parents and could easily see us from the top of the stairs. "Want to move to the couch in the living room?" I looked back at a startled Clara, who seemed to think I was leaving. If you cherished this article and you would like to get much more data with regards to milf squirt compilation kindly visit our web-site. She looked to the stairwell and nodded. "Gotcha. Yeah!" She said. I went to get up, but she pulled me by the collar and kissed me again, almost causing us to be unable to stop once more. I insisted, pulling away and leading her to the couch. She tugged me back, pulling at the buttons on my button down. "Take this off," she demanded. Before she could finish unbuttoning it, I slipped the top off over my head and moved to the couch. She sat atop my lap as I reached for the remote. "Probably best to leave the TV on just in case." As I leafed through the channels, she kissed my neck, distracting me from my task. "C-careful," I pleaded, not wanting her to leave a mark on my neck, but she didnt much care, nor would she at any point. This became one of her favorite games: distract me while Im trying to do something by touching me. I was trying to find something reasonable for us to be "watching" should my brother get home, but every time I started to process what was on the screen, I could feel her hips gently sway against my crotch, the fabric between us barely masking the shape of her vulva, so soft and rounded. She would also kiss my neck and nibble my ear, but, despite the challenge, I found a station and proceeded to push her away from my neck, leaning in again to kiss her. She sighed and it felt as though her whole body just melted. She dropped her chest to mine and ran her hands through my hair. I let a hand rest on her hip, her tank top having slid up slightly. Shock filled my system as I felt her skin against my ring finger. Perhaps it seems silly, but this was the first foray into such sensuous territory! The idea of what this contact could open to, the fact that all of her skin was connected to this simple point, it dawned on me, in that moment, as tremendously salient. But I didnt dare move my hand. Although Clara was warming up to everything, anything more than kissing was untempered waters for me. I really didnt want to blow it! Clara pulled away from the kiss, a smile opened on her face as she rested her arms on my shoulder. "Do you know how long Ive waited for that?! Why did it take you sooo long?!" She teased. "To be fair we have both been occupied with others on and off. Not a lack of wanting to," I reassured her. "How long have you wanted to?" She inquired, climbing off my lap and leaning into the corner of the sectional. "Pretty much ever since we met!" I leaned over to kiss her again and she obliged, holding my face near. "4 years is too damn long," she smiled. "Well, then Im glad we didnt wait any longer." She rested a hand against my thigh as we continued to make out, my hand resting on her side. She had grown quite warm from our little tryst, her lips almost hot against mine. She let her tongue play along the edge of my lips, but she would recoil whenever I would try to reciprocate, a smile eventually growing on her lips. She would let her lips linger near mine, glancing my lips gently with her tongue. If I was patient, she would come closer, letting her tongue venture further into my mouth. But the first sign of movement she got and she would pull away, eventually getting to the point that she would actually laugh. All the while, her hand stayed on my thigh and it hardly "stayed". As she teased me with her little kisses and such, her hand kept moving inward, but then retracting. Every time she would teasingly kiss me, her hand would inch between my legs, but she would always stop and pull her hand back. Eventually she just started in a rubbing motion, her lips intoxicatingly close, her breathing almost intentionally hot. I had had enough. I quickly grabbed her neck and let all the tension rapidly catalyze into passion as I pressed a kiss to her. She let out a slight moan and her hand gripped at my thigh. She kissed me back, tongues dancing with heat. She actually pushed back against me now, like a magnet attracted too forcibly! Im not sure she even realized how quickly her hand slid forward as we made out again. She continued in the rubbing motion, very quickly finding her palm against the bulge in my pants. I let out a sigh as she quietly moaned. Already, this felt incredible and dangerous. I had never even received a handjob at this point in my life. Being a young Christian boy, I was against anything other than kissing... but, this. This was too good to pass up! She rubbed along the length of it, open palmed, investigating the real shape of it with her fingers. She pushed my face away and took a passionate taste of my neck, sending one single jolt down my spine. I shook slightly as the bolt dispersed through my system. As my pleasure suddenly spiked, I could feel myself reaching close to orgasm. "C-careful," I pleaded again, holding her wrist. She slowed, but then pouted. "Am I too much for you?" She smirked. "Just at the moment, gimme a sec- She cut off my sentence, starting to rub me again. She would stop whenever I would place a touch to her wrist, sometimes only slowing. I felt like I had a fucking fever, my temperature spiking with each tease. I even started swaying my hips, now wanting desperately to cum! But she wouldnt let me. She breathed heavily in my ear and she nibbled the lobe, her palm moving slower and more carefully against me, my hips swaying almost embarrassingly desperately! She suddenly pulled her hand away and smiled at me. "I think you might need a breather," she headed to the bathroom and I laid back on the couch, quite tempted to just finish myself off. But there was more to be done tonight and I didnt want to ruin that. I let my blood pressure settle with my body temperature, trying desperately to calm down! Staring at the ceiling, I could feel my erection decreasing, my body cooling off. My breathing was normal and I could think straight again. I looked over at my phone, curious to the time. Sitting up, I picked it up and flipped it open. 2 messages. Both from my brother. STAYING AT DYLANS TONIGHT. LET MOM KNOW. BE HOME TOMORROW AFTERNOON Clara, freshened up, laid down on the long section of the couch, smirking deviously. It only dawned on me the reason for her smirks, when I saw a bra in her hands. Blood flooded from my brain, but not enough that I completely lost sense. I was working out the math and realizing where the night was going to go if I didnt put a stop to it now. The Protestant guilt warred with the primal part of me. I knew without a doubt what I wanted... but I was concerned now with what I should want. Clara laid back, her tank top climbing up and revealing her stomach, just above her belly button. Without thinking, I climbed over to her, my crotch pressing warmly to hers as my body dropped. She smiled and welcomed me with a small peck and I returned the favor. I reasoned that if I didnt tell her about my brother, then things wouldnt get out of hand. We could make out for a bit and then go to bed, no sin involved (beyond perhaps that which I had already engaged in). My hips started to sway against hers as we resumed. Her legs wrapped around me, but gave me room to maneuver. Her hands extended down my back, slipping inside my pants and beneath my boxers to cup my ass. She let out a contented sigh, provoking my hips to move. Her hips raised as she spread her legs further. She leaned up to my ear. "My bra isnt the only thing I took off," she whispered. I thrust again, this time imagining how it must have felt to have one fewer layer between us, seeing if I could feel how much closer we were not. Admittedly, it didn’t really feel any different, but it still drove me wild with excitement and I think she could tell. She tried to refrain from moaning as I ground up against her, her hands still pulling me in for more.. She tilted her head to the side allowing me access to her neck, which I took advantage of. I kissed her right at her jawline, unleashing my teeth against her skin softly. Arms growing tired, I rolled over to the side, her hands sliding out of my pants. I let my hand move between her legs fearlessly and started to rub her. I knew nothing about what I was doing, but for what I had seen in porn. It seemed like rubbing her up and down or in circles would be the best way to go about it. Whatever I was doing though, it was right, because she covered her mouth, her hips raising to meet my touch. Her face was totally flushed from our dirty activities, the fabric of her shorts soaked. At that moment in time, I didn’t realize that this was a sign of arousal, at least slightly. I just thought vaginas were always this soaked… As we lay there, I continued to kiss her, her hand traveling back to the front of my pants, gripping me more furiously this time! I sighed out loudly against the kiss, my pleasure no longer close to peak, but my desire to cum almost completely overwhelming! Her rubbing became more and more furious, our passionate kissing raising our body temperatures. I just remember laying there, sweating quite intensely as the hours passed on, this erotic adventure quite exhilirating already, my mind and body open to see what other mysteries it had in store for me. Just then I heard the sound of the zipper on my pants. I looked down to see that Clara had already unbuttoned my pants without me knowing and was just now reaching the bottom of my zipper. She looked up at me, eyes wide and lustful. She maneuvered into my boxers. I moaned as her hand touched my throbbing, rigid cock. She pulled my cock through the hole in the front of my boxers and looked down. She sighed "That’s a relief," she smiled at me, biting her lip. "What?" "I was REALLY hoping you had a big dick!" she sighed out, as if she had heard it in a porno recently or something... I just smiled back, too intrigued with what was happening to care about her awkward compliment. Perhaps she knew what she was doing, giving me more credit that I was due in order to further seduce me. It wasn’t too long before she had crawled down to my member, licking the precum off the top. I couldn’t stop her as she took the head into her mouth, sucking lightly. My head spun and I was consumed with pleasure. I was pretty sure that I was going to cum immediately, but she constantly kept stopping, seemingly knowing the pleasure that she was bringing to me! Her head gently bobbed back down, deeper each time, her tongue circling my cock with each recoil. I swear at this point I must have been running a dangerous fever, my whole body just wanting the release of orgasm, my every inch so sensitive to her masterful touch. I held my hand over my mouth, laying back, sweat pouring from my brow. She could fit about half the length before it was too much for her, but that was certainly enough for me. It was incredible to me to be sharing all of this with her, especially after all this time. I just remember a sort of sexual resonance at that point, a warmth inside my body. I was enjoying feeling sexual and I kind of didnt ever want to cum. Too late. I warned her with another quiet "c-careful," but she made a decision and that was to let me cum in her mouth. My body gave into orgasm, hot cum splashing into her soft mouth. I felt her suck up and swallow every last drop. She moved back up to me and kissed my cheek. "Good?" She asked. I could only manage to nod. "I should return the favor," I remarked. She smirked but shook her head. "I dont think I could stay quiet," she laughed. "We could use a pillow, you could moan into it," I wasnt going to give up that easily. But she shook her head. "Another time maybe," she gave a half-hearted smile at me as she planted a kiss on my lips. And in that moment I had two choices: let the evening fizzle out from there and go to bed to see what daylight brought for us or tell her about the vacancy in the basement and leave everything up to chance... At that point how could I turn back? If we went downstairs, I was essentially agreeing to sex. "Well… actually…" I really considered what I was about to say as I looked to her. "Andrew texted me," I explained, her face rather close to mine. She nodded and laughed. "Well, congrats," she teased, giving me a quizzical look. "He’s staying at Dylan’s tonight…" I watched her eyes, but the meaning of my words didn’t seem to sink in, "Meaning that he won’t be home tonight…" she still gave no indication that any of this was making sense to her. I sighed, she was really going to make me come out and say it explicitly. Her face dwelled close to mine, her eyes locked on my gaze. "What are you trying to say?" she inquired. "The basement is free tonight… so we could use it for… uhm, activities" she offered me a hesitant smile. No, the smile wasn’t hesitant, but she was indicating hesitance through the smile. "You don’t think your parents might hear us anyways?" she inquired. I frowned and shrugged, unsure if they would or not. The risk was certainly a factor, but it was also part of the appeal. "I’m sorry, I just don’t think I could keep quiet." And, just like last night, the evening fizzled out. We made out for another half hour or so, but it was not meant to be. Getting off at the end of the night, I actually somehow felt good about how things wrapped up. We had some fun, but nobody compromised their "purity". But oh man! If I had known what was going to happen soon, I may not have felt so easy about it. /u/dreddito