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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 10 days

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Love and Liabilities: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: As you prepare for the impending trial and attempt to find ways to relieve your stress, the biggest stressor in your life has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back after a little hiatus! This is a bit of a shorter chapter to get me back into writing after a few months. I’m hoping to be updating a bit more regularly but I’m (sadly) growing even more busy & stressed, so I promise to do the best I can! As always I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. My asks/dm’s are always open!

Tag List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @aggieslittleslut @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Present Day

The whooshing of the wind in your ears combined with the cool air filling your lungs fueled you to increase your pacing as you ran through the deserted park. It had been nearly a week since you reunited with Agatha, and your brain had been hellbent on torturing you ever since. Nothing could take your mind off the infuriating attorney, not even work. You had spent the past few days pouring over every word in the various documents Agatha presented during the pretrial conference, hoping to find something, anything really, to solidify your case.

It was times like this when you missed working in corporate law. Although you had only been a junior attorney at Stark & Strange, you had unlimited access to paralegals and attorneys at your disposal. Unfortunately, working for the government meant not only taking a significant pay cut, but also limiting your outsourcing. You didn’t regret your decision to leave the firm, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the perks.

Since burying yourself in piles of work proved useless, your only real escape from Agatha came from running. The familiar burning sensation began to fill your lungs as your body begged for a break, but you forced yourself to continue. Your legs felt heavier than when you first started, and as you rounded the corner of the trail you had to work twice as hard to not slow down. Even though you were growing tired, the rush of endorphins was a welcome change from the haunting memory of searing blue eyes burning holes into your own.

Agatha would be far too pleased to learn how much of your time and energy was being wasted trying to forget her. However, being the soul sucking succubus she was, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was already aware of the pain she was causing. A swell of anger suddenly overtook you, a feeling you had long grown familiar with when thinking of her, and you used it to finish the final stretch of your run. The thudding of your feet on the pavement along with the loud thumping of your heartbeat acting as a painful reminder of the woman you so desperately wanted to rid yourself of.

Swirls of scarlet, orange, and yellow painted the Manhattan skyline as the sun gradually rose over the city, and the quiet beeping of your phone from your back pocket signaled the end of your run. Nearing the end of the trail, you slowed your pace down to a steady walk, allowing yourself to do some breathing exercises in the process whilst checking your email. It was early enough in the morning that there wasn’t much for you to go through, but you knew it was bound to be yet another busy day.

You had timed your run to give yourself just enough time to head back to your apartment to get ready for the day and get to the office before the rest of your colleagues. The stress of the looming trial was becoming overwhelming, and you had to be prepared for whatever chaos Agatha would inevitably throw at you. Unfortunately that meant you were working nearly double the amount of hours than normal.

Luckily you were able to take a quick shower, find clean clothes in the back of your closet, and managed to get to work before anyone else had arrived. You would hopefully have an hour or two to yourself before you were eventually interrupted, and you intended to use every last possible second you could. As you strolled the corridor, you were tempted to stop to make yourself a coffee, but decided to get settled before adding caffeine to this situation.

Absentmindedly dropping your bag to the floor after you entered your office, you refocused your attention on reading a memo that one of your colleagues had left for you. Making mental notes of what needed to be addressed, you turned to open the blinds when you stopped dead in your tracks at what was in front of you.

Agatha Harkness sat in an armchair in the corner of your office, an amused expression painting her face. You nearly fell over at the sight of her, how did she get in here? The door was locked when you had arrived, wasn’t it?

Agatha, unaware of your current inner ramblings, took a sip of her coffee before repositioning herself, recrossing her legs as she gave you a disappointed look. “Your lack of situational awareness is truly astonishing. I could have been a murderer.”

Adrenaline continued to course through your body as your heart thumped loudly in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you ignored her sarcastic remarks as you leaned against your desk, attempting to calm down.

“What-what the hell are you doing in here?” You spluttered out, unsuccessfully trying to regain your composure.

The attorney frowned, as if that was an absurd question. “This is your office, is it not? I wasn’t sure at first, but the withering plants were a bit of a giveaway.”

Typical Agatha. They weren’t dying, were they? You made a mental note to ask your paralegal to water them a bit more.

Ignoring the jab, you took another deep breath, your body still on edge. “Do I even want to know how you got in here?”

Taking a moment to think over your words, she shook her head. “No. Now drink your coffee before the ice melts.”

It was then that you noticed the untouched cup of iced coffee on the edge of your desk. Narrowing your eyes at it, you gave her a suspicious glance. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, as if that was the most ridiculous thing to ask her and she didn’t just break into your office. “Honestly, dear. You’re far too paranoid this early in the morning. Drink. We both know how irritable you are without caffeine.”

When you refrained from grabbing the cup, Agatha huffed, her stormy blue eyes swirling in annoyance as she rose from her seat. Taking a step towards you until your legs were nearly touching, she snatched the cup, the silence in the room disrupted by the clanking sound of the ice swirling in the cup. Hovering over you, she used her free hand to grab yours, the soft feel of her touch briefly taking you back to a time where it would have been more welcomed.

Your breath hitched as the rich, musky scent of her expensive perfume washed over you, and you fought the temptation to look into her eyes. How many times had you found yourself in this exact same position with her, you mused lightly as your brain attempted to regain its ability to function. Agatha’s fingers intertwined with yours, as she leaned in even closer, her lips grazing your jawline and you closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to lean into her touch.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “No. This can’t happen again.”

Agatha pulled back, her eyebrows slightly raised. “What can’t happen again?”

Giving her a pointed look, you tried to ignore the feel of her fingers still interwoven with your own. “I don’t think we need to relive that mistake, do we?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Agatha replied, swishing the cup of iced coffee as she lifted it up. “I seem to recall you rather enjoying yourself during that mistake, or was that someone else who pulled me into a closet and jumped me?”

“I did not jump you! You’re the one who came onto me,” you hissed as your irritation grew exponentially.

“Easy, tiger,” Agatha teased, raising the cup until the straw was nearly touching your lips. “I see the caffeine withdrawal is already kicking in.”

“Agatha…” you trailed off, ignoring your brain protesting that this would hurt even more than your last encounter.

Dropping your hand, Agatha gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“Sip,” Agatha murmured, raising the cup once more to your lips.

Her words were soft, but you both knew it wasn’t a request as much as a command. A part of you knew this was a mistake, that you couldn’t give into her yet again after being strong for so long. But then you looked into her eyes and found yourself getting lost in the fiery intensity she always seemed to carry. Logic and reason held no weight against the pleasure that was being at the mercy of Agatha Harkness.

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you lightly sucked, savoring the creamy, cold taste of the iced coffee on your tongue. Agatha’s eyes darkened at the sight; using one hand to brush your hair behind your shoulders while the other remained glued to your jaw, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“Good girl,” Agatha quietly praised, running her fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the loose strands.

As you released the straw from your mouth, Agatha set the cup down, tightening her grip on your hair before capturing your lips in a kiss. Her lips were warm and gentle against your own, but it wasn’t long before she began nipping on your lower lip, biting down harder when you let out a whine. Moving forward, she pressed herself fully against you, while you instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist. Her tongue expertly sought out your own, and it felt like she was trying to get every drop of coffee from your mouth.

Panting, you were the first to break the kiss, tilting your head as Agatha proceeded to pepper persistent kisses down your jawline, each leaving you more breathless than the last.

“Agatha…” you whimpered, the last bit of self control slipping away even as you tried to hold onto it. “We can’t do this again.”

The attorney chuckled softly against your skin, tickling you ever so slightly in the process. She took a moment to look up at you then, with her ever blue eyes hazy with want and perfectly swollen red lips, and you remembered a moment in time where this had been easier. It was almost too easy to forget the pain of the past when she looked at you in that special way; as if she saved those intimate, sweet glances just for you. You used to believe you were able to bring out a different side of her than the rest of the world saw; that you understood who she was at her core.

Having her here now made the whole situation even worse than you previously remembered. It complicated things, and if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was unnecessary complications. You found it difficult to remember the seemingly obvious reasons why you left her all those years ago when she was standing within your reach; the light that once dimmed in her eyes was once again ablaze. Gone were the demons of the past, in its place was the woman you had once fallen in love with.

Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard chatter from the hallway; your colleagues had arrived for the day. Agatha’s head tilted at the sound, and the moment was broken as she took a step back.

Clearing her throat, she folded her arms across her chest. “I was hoping you had given more thought to dropping the case, that’s why I dropped by.”

Annoyance took over any feelings of longing that had been threatening to emerge, and you frowned. “You do realize that this could be perceived as intimidation, right? That on top of trespassing could mean you potentially lose any upper hand in this trial that you believe you possess.”

Agatha fully cackled, which only served to enrage you further. She picked up a few files that she must have previously set on the desk. “You always were so full of pride and ambition, dear. I’m not surprised to see it still has a hand in clouding your judgment. It’s a pity. I always thought you had a lot of potential.”

Flabbergasted, you shook your head. You should have known better. Only Agatha would be capable of attempting to manipulate you over your shared past to better serve her motive. Shoving past her, you finally opened the blinds to your office, the once sunny morning replaced with dark gray skies as rain furiously poured down. As you turned around to tell Agatha to get out, you were unsurprised to find she was already gone. Typical.

Settling down at your desk, you opened your laptop and started going through your checklist for the day when you noticed something on the edge of your desk; a file folder. You quickly realized Agatha must have left it behind by accident, which was strange; it wasn’t like her to do something like that. It was unclear what drove you to opening the file, but looking back you’d blame it on your own morbid curiosity. Inside there were over a dozen pages of what appeared to be hospital records for two people, one being Wanda Maximoff.

As you settled in to read, your eyes drifted to the neglected iced coffee. A part of you wanted to throw it away, but the caffeine driven side of your brain led you to grab it. After all, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Flipping the page over as you sipped, you paused as you actually tasted the coffee for the first time without distraction.

This is your exact coffee order. Iced coffee, extra ice, one pump of vanilla and a splash of oatmilk. After all of these years she still remembered, remembered it perfectly.

You weren’t sure why you hated that as much as you did, but it burns in your mind as you keep reading and drinking, trying to wash her taste out of your mouth.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #marvel au #wandavision au #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha all along

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danger-bird · 2 months

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Touchstarved Astrology Headcanons🌠

Mostly based on my own irl observations over the years, as well as my bookworm era a few years ago . Also taking into account my own impressions & feelings for the LIs, so sufficiently biased and I'm not sorry. In the words of Danny DeVito: "I'm right, you're wrong, and there's nothing you can do about it!" /lovingly❤️

Ais

Venus in Virgo. Period. I'm dying on this hill. Fight me. No but fr, first he's a diehard animal lover and will jump into a dog fight to save a puppy. Second, he's giving "mother hen" behavior - says "watch your step", then grabs you when you trip and scolds you "told you to watch your step"(Virgo 101); sends you off with an ESCORT, jumps in fists first when the roughneck tries fighting you then hides you from the purple gang later and escorts you back himself - need I say more? Not to mention he VERY likely helped Kuras save us (his scent lingers in the clinic when MC wakes up), and helps in the clinic regularly (so a part-time nurse, most likely helped save Mhin too). Also, he was definitely watching over us even before the Seaspring (the scarred woman knew our name from somewhere, also the Unnamed can feel Ocudeus' presence outside the clinic). He craves taking care of someone - people, animals, soulless, poor unfortunate souls - you name it. And it's not for show - that's just how he is. That's how he shows love - by being attentive. All my favorite people have this placement, they're all like him in this regard - best Venus placement imo (yes, I'm a biased Venus in Taurus, BUT I'm also right, lol)

Scorpio Ascendant I mean... come on. Come on. He's LITERALLY a gang leader! Not that anybody needs convincing, but aside from the sharp, intense eyes and the fact he oozes sex appeal, this would place his Sun in 10th House- he is known publicly as a leader, his presence demands respect and attracts attention. BDE for sure. Also he's very smart, intuitive and observant. Very aware of his surroundings, can pick up on people's moods & intentions like it's nothing. I'm convinced he can literally read our mind. A smart, sexy and caring bastard, lord help me...

Kuras

Virgo Signature sign Kuras is very service-oriented, focused on helping the community and always looking for ways to assist others. Very mindful of people’s problems and what they’re in need of - and ready to provide it, no matter what it may cost him. He’s also very polite, but comes off rigid, like he’s read “Social Etiquette for Humans 101” and is following it to the letter lol. Also kinda nerdy – has his special interests, and if you let him he’ll talk about reductions and concoctions all day, every day. I don't think it's a specific placement that influences this behavior, it's the whole picture, thus - a signature sign!

Saturn Dominant This man is a Capricorn already, sure, but there’s a difference. Capricorn placements have an inner spark, a fire about them – they’re ambitious and driven while being practical and disciplined. Saturn, however, is a dry and dark, malefic - almost apocalyptic planet. It’s the last visible planet – the gatekeeper of the divine knowledge (depicted by the outer planets). It represents time, boundaries, a sense of duty and responsibility, guilt and the consequences of one's actions. A symbol of Kronos and the Devil, it represents the falling of God, the grotesque expression of divinity. Kuras has a curious mind, fascinated by science and humanity, and in light of the Kuras character lore (and his not-too-subtle mischievousness) he def has strong Uranus & Jupiter influence as well. But the Saturnian themes in particular parallel the themes and main conflict in his story most strongly.

Mercury Retrograde I had to. The way he's so precise and eloquent, but roundabout when he talks? How he's so tight-lipped and takes his sweet time before answering a question? Mercury retrograde, 100 percent. I don't make the rules.

Mhin

Moon in 1st House. How do I know? I have it. The color of printer paper (the sun hates us), emotions written all over their entire existence and impossible to hide, as well as rather intense emotional outbursts? Yes, yes and yes. Big-time tsundere? Yes. Big softy, too? Yes. We could be twins, honestly. I stg they have a crush on Ais, but unlike with Kuras they're not happy about it. I dunno, call it twin telepathy. The Christmas photo doesn't help either.

Water moon, most likely in Cancer. Not Scorpio, because their emotions fluctuate rapidly, and are overtly moody. The difference between big waves and a rip current, for example. But more so, this makes for a Sun-Moon square - the dissonance and lack of harmony between their outer persona and their inner needs and desires is clear. They have difficulty expressing their emotions, not difficulty as in showing them, but in a way where they come off wrong and get interpreted the wrong way. Very protective, like a smol soft crabbie shielding themselves with their shell. Pushes people away consciously, but hoping for someone to have enough of a "spine" to handle them and protect them, giving them a safe space to finally relax. Most of all they need love, reassurance and acceptance (my poor little meow meow💙)

Mars square Mercury That Mercury is in Aries, you can't tell me otherwise. The extra 'angry' coming from Mars in Capricorn is helping, too. But not only that, it also makes a square to their Sun AND an opposition to their Moon - a T-square, a highly difficult & stressful configuration. The Mars is in Capricorn because they like a partner with authority and attitude (Cap in 7th), and it makes for good synastry with Kuras (my cutie patooties). Also for how small they are, they're very agile and skilled with knifes (ruled by Mars).

Leander

Venus conjunct Pluto. Sexy. Magnetic. He pulls you in with the gravitational force of his tits. These people are the definition of an intense lover. Obsessive and hungry for love - and pain, equally, very big on extreme and overwhelming sensations. You have a terrible curse? Oooh, danger - gimme! You can never give them too much attention - they want it all, and they're not sharing. Possessive, wants to draw you into their little world and keep you for themselves.

Leo Ascendant, for a few reasons. I was initially thinking Libra, but after looking at everything, I decided on Leo. He has a noble presence - not surprising considering his upbringing. He's a very charismatic talker, well-spoken, lovely voice, can charm anyone into trusting him (Libra in 3rd coming through). To his credit, he takes his work seriously and comes off as a reliable boss (Cap in 6th, also Taurus in 10th). He wants to take care of people... or rather, wants to be seen as a savior. I really see him as a Gemini-Cancer cusp, but technically he's a Cancer so his sun will be in 12th house. It’s a house of self-undoing, the afterlife, illusions - ego and reality go to disintegrate here. All that connects into the life-and-death theme surrounding him and his design. The sun here becomes a fantasy, a goal rather than reality – a dream of being a leader, a hero, someone who people look up to for help and answers. He’s really giving Jesus-wannabe, with the resurrection and savior complex he has going on, as well as the over-the-top generosity. A big red crab, with a big red flag... and the tits to match (Cancer rules the booba).

Vere

Venus conjunct Midheaven, Midheaven being in Scorpio. With Sun in Scorpio. Lots of Scorpio. He’s so pretty! Pretty in an elegant, sensual, effortless yet manicured to perfection way. Apparently, the BBC (Big Bulky Collar) on him does not signal “DANGER!” to the rascals who take him for an easy target, because all they see is the approachable, delicate face and inviting voice. He knows the effect he has on people, and he’s using it to his advantage – to get a free drink, or to make people trust him juuust enough to get what he wants. He is attracted to power, powerful people, and wants power for himself – and he’s ruthless about achieving his goals, too (Scorpio in 10th); there’s a lot of gossip surrounding this man’s public image, his reputation. Venus conjunct Midheaven places a focus on art – he is an artist, appreciates art as well as creating it himself. He IS the art, or that’s the perception of him anyway.

Venus in Scorpio As Venusian as he appears, Venus is in detriment here – there’s conflicting emotions regarding his looks, and the perception of him – or rather, the expectations placed on him because of it. He'll break rules on purpose, act outrageous, play coy, use his beaty for all its worth – he’ll purposefully play the ‘bad guy’ as a form of rebellion, a defense mechanism. He can’t find comfort in a traditional relationship dynamic and has a hard time liking someone who likes them back - he’s afraid of commitment. I believe his confidence is a façade; there’s an underlying fear of betrayal and rejection, and a paranoia that any good thing that comes his way is a trick, a trap, or a lie. That he doesn’t deserve love or care, really. Buuut… if you’re like Ais and see him for all his ‘ugly’, and accept him anyway… then you’re really something💜.

1525 words. Yikes. I tried keeping the word count down.

Unsuccessful. Obviously.

If you’ve read this far, go have some water, a snack, a stretch – you deserve it! Doctor’s orders!!!

P.S. : Ais' side profile sprite is giving me "ex-punk mom wearing a cozy cardigan", is it just me? Anyone? Are you seeing it? Am I crazy? Do I need help?...

...I'll see myself out.

#ps: he just looks so cozyyyyy~#call me a dictionary bc I'm full of words #and thoughts #this took waaay too long to write #touchstarved game #ais #kuras #leander #mhin #vere #touchstarved headcanons #astro observations

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tossawary · 5 days

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So far (partway into the Hueco Mundo arc, I skipped the Bount arc completely), "Bleach" seems to... shy away from interesting consequences for the issues it directly brings up. (Also, oh, man, all the filler varies in quality so much and it is BRUTAL on the pacing of the main storylines.)

Like, I think a lot about the Soul Society arc had a lot of missed potential in general, but I also thought the end of it is where things get genuinely exciting. The Gotei 13 has been repeatedly shown to be uncaring, incompetent, cruel, authoritarian, etc. and it seems like the characters are fighting against this hollow structure built on unsustainable tradition finally cracking under the weight of whatever unjust powers are obviously behind Rukia's execution and apparently Aizen's murder. Multiple captains start turning against each other for different reasons. It seems like Ichigo is just one small part of a much larger world.

And then Aizen is revealed and things still feel pretty delicious! What he did to Momo was REALLY fucked up and painful to watch in many ways. It's not unreasonable that Aizen's betrayal immediately halts a lot of ongoing fights. It makes sense that the Captain Commander doesn't want to turn around afterwards and start executing people for turning against him after losing three captains and all of Central 46. But... I would still expect there to be more lasting cracks and broken trust between the remaining members of the Gotei 13. The top four members of Squad 11 briefly turned against the Gotei essentially for funsies and yet characters like Toshiro and Rangiku don't seem to have any real resentment or suspicion over this casual disloyalty. I vaguely hope the psychological weight of and anger surrounding Aizen's fuckery is explored more later on, with more seriousness, but I can't trust this show not to essentially drop the issue completely.

I don't need this show to have Soul Society turn into some socialist / communist / anarchist utopia. But it is a downer to have a character as absolutely vile as Kurotsuchi thrown in my face during his fight with Ishida, knowing that not only does Kurotsuchi survive, but he's presumably continuing his utterly inhumane work in the Soul Society while everything else is happening. And the show seems to treat him as more of a joke mad scientist in the background than someone as or even more evil as any of the hollows. And I can't fully trust that this aspect of the Soul Society will ever be honestly confronted, even as simply a deeply tragic element representative of the Gotei's unchanging hypocrisy.

The Gotei 13 has an assassination squad! You don't have an assassination squad unless you're regularly killing people who are "undermining" your power, probably including lots of poor people in the outer districts trying to organize communities, based on actual history. These aspects are what made the soul reapers such effective and complicated antagonists in the Soul Society arc! And the flip to "yeah, they're Ichigo's allies now, mostly" was very sudden and kind of... underwhelming.

I don't care if parts of this story are tragic and this obviously broken system is left mostly unchanged at the end, it's just annoying when the story treats certain aspects as happy endings or just a funny joke, instead of delving more seriously and deliciously into just messed up everything is! How the soul reapers are unable to handle the burdens here!

From what I vaguely remember overhearing, Aizen ends up being a relatively flat villain, with relatively shallow goals and motivations regarding taking over the worlds and rising to godhood, which feels like missed potential when there's so much about this world that sucks! If Aizen had any honest motivations about making things better for any group of people, including hollows and their shitty deal in all this for example, then we might actually have a more interesting dialogue happening about the state of everything. I would like to see him honestly appealing to Orihime's kindness and sense of mercy in order to get her to join him. Her brother turned into a hollow! She has reasons to care about hollows potentially wanting to be more human again and living better afterlives than fighting forever in the sands. Maybe Aizen could just be lying about helping other people, but it would be more interesting to see this type of persuasion, and I'm already fucking sick of so much of Orihime's motivations focusing on helping Ichigo instead of her feeling torn about her tragically and traumatically dead brother who turned into a hollow.

(Side note: I don't fully understand why Aizen didn't just take over the Gotei 13. Between his hypnosis and his minions and his plots to take out rivals, he could have surely installed himself as the next Captain Commander eventually. Neither Ukitake (chronically ill) nor Kyouraku (relaxed drunkard) seem to honestly want the weight of that position. Aizen just seems to like drama, I guess. Fair enough.)

I've just reached the fight between Rukia and Aaronerio who is pretending to be Kaien, and it feels like the story is bringing up a genuinely cool idea only to throw it aside as a trick by a relatively boring hollow character. What IF Kaien had become a hollow? What IF Kaien had joined Aizen because he had some legitimate grief with Soul Society and the Gotei 13? I have vague memories about Aizen having Kaien killed and framing the Shiba Clan because Kaien was investigating him, but it's sooooo boring to have Aizen be at fault for EVERYTHING. The fallen lieutenant / almost captain from a disgraced noble family treated badly by Soul Society... turned into a hollow and forced to survive tragedy he wanted to kill him and unable to return to the Gotei 13 for help? Joining up with Aizen because he wants to take down the Soul Society and make a better world? That's COMPELLING. That's COMPLICATED. That's something that promises to get MESSY if Aizen is lying to Kaien and/or Kaien has genuinely lost his way and/or Kaien HAS A POINT. But the show brings it up only to bail on the concept.

Maybe some of the things I've talked about here will be brought up later on. I expect them to keep bringing up many of these issues, actually! I honestly just don't expect satisfying explorations and resolutions to anything, given what I've seen so far. They're just not going for the good stuff.

(I have this playing in the background while working on other stuff. If I put on a better anime, I would actually want to pay more attention to it.)

#tossawary bleach #spoilers #fic ideas #kaien shiba #orihime inoue #sosuke aizen

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youryurigoddess · 1 month

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The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

#bible fanfiction #actually quoting bible #cup of suffering #give me coffee or give me death #the small back room #hour of glory #good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #final fifteen #crowley #crowley is a superhero #aziraphale #supreme archangel aziraphale #ineffable husbands #yuri is doing her thing #drinking coffee #an oat milk latte with a dash of almond syrup

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enden-k · 8 months

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. kvthm fantasy AU stuff ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a more compact/organized post about my au mostly for myself where i keep all the infos and lore i posted so far in one + links to specific comics or doodles i did [will update over time]

i first started posting my AU on april 19, rlly feels like ages ago 🥹

set in a (well, even more) fantastical version of sumeru. theres a curse going wild for a long time, and no cure so far. no one knows where, when or why it spread, only that once someone becomes cursed, all that awaits is death.

kaveh, the prince of sumeru, is cursed since birth and can no longer bear to sit and wait for his end to come; especially with his mother watching him fall more and more to the curse to the point it hurts her just looking at him. he doesnt want to cause her pain and make her watch him grow weak and die; he rather wants to use the time left to find a way to break the curse, to save the others that still have a chance for a cure unlike him who is doomed to die and turn into a shadowy creature to haunt the lands.

his journey leads him to a certain, mysterious witch who came up with a spell to freeze the curse for some time - it needs to be redone regularly though to stall it. driven by his interest and curiosity in the curse and the prince, the witch agrees on accompanying kaveh on his travels; renewing the spell to give kaveh more time while pursuing the truth and origin of the curse. on their travels, they also meet a certain forest watcher and his partner, and a mercenary who become a part of their small group, and together they journey all across of sumeru in search of a way to break the curse for once and all, saving their loved ones.

the curse

its origin is unknown so far. once someone becomes cursed, they fall sick and slowly but painfully wither away as it spreads over their body. shadowy, bark-like markings spread over the body, skin and joints growing stiff and painful to move

the curse feeds on the bodies energy until it switches to the persons soul to devour it next and turn them into a mindless shadowy creature. usually the body cant handle it anymore though; the cursed one dies from weakness and their organs failing before their souls can be devoured. coma is the final stage before the body ultimately breaks down, taking the curse "safely" with them in death. once cursed, there is no "easy" way out of it. unnatural death while the curse is still active and powerful, feeding on the persons energy, will unleash it and curse everyone and everything around it. the curse is known to take, to wither everything and everyone away - the only thing that doesnt wither away are mourning flowers. those flowers bloom as long as the curse is active and festering and they start to wilt more the weaker the curse gets; therefore, the closer death is. people use those flowers to measure the time left they are able to spend with their loved cursed ones until they die to the curse. people believe the curse is what keeps the flower blooming and as soon as the body gets weaker which in turns makes the curse lose its power as well (since it cant feed on the body any longer), the flower starts to wilt more and more as well just like the cursed one until they both die. this is why some people bury their loved cursed ones with the flower as a symbol of protection for their souls in the afterlife. so far there seems no way to cure or fight the curse other than succumbing to it and taking it to the grave. still, kaveh wants to try and find a way while he can.

ㅤㅤ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ kaveh ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a prince born cursed, the way it works on and in him differs from others. like the others, he constantly feels pain and on some days even weakness where he can barely hold anything; those seem to be the days when the curse advances on his body to devour some more of him. unlike the others hes still withstanding it though and doesnt show the other usual symptoms such as chronic fatigue and weakness, sickness, etc. because of being born cursed, his body seems to be used to living with it; the curse has started devouring his body and soul simultaneously already. it means his body will hold out until his soul is fully devoured. he is doomed to fall to the curse and lose himself. there are records of people who were like him, born cursed, and those have turned into shadowy mindless beasts that roam the lands, killing everyone and everything in their way once body and soul were devoured. the day that kaveh dies to the curse, his body will be controlled by the curse alone once it took over his soul and hurt everyone. he desperately wants to stop that with all his power; not to come out of this alive or have a peaceful death but to save people from the curse and the danger of himself once he turned. its not like he doesnt mind dying or doesnt wish to come out alive. its just after all those years of anger and hurt and constant questions on why him, he had started to accept his fate. he still wishes to find a way, at least for everyone else, to save them from the curse and from himself. his father also died to the curse when he was still young. now that he is also cursed, he cant bear seeing his mother in such emotional pain as they both wait for his death. instead of appreciating the time hes still there, it seems she is mourning already and he doesnt want to cause her more pain by simply being near her. its why he sets out in the middle of the night and leaves the capital without looking back.

he wears the mourning flowers in his hair to keep an eye on his condition and time left while hes on his journey. he loves to paint and dance; because of the curse and the pains that come with it periodically, he cant hold a quill for too long though. he wields his claymore by himself (yes) when he is able to; when the pain strikes, his fathers dagger strapped to his hip is his choice of weapon to defend himself.

ㅤㅤ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ al-haitham ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a mysterious witch living completely unbothered in solitude. when he was young, he was banned and cast out from the witches realm in the forest for breaking one of the 6 rules, committing a sin. outside of that, little is known about him other than him being the most proficient in anything regarding spells, curses and ancient languages; some say he is able to speak all the languages known - though if that is true, only he knows. however, if asked how many languages he can actually speak, he will answer with a random number each time - or none at all, depending on his mood. (everything he does seems to be depending on his mood) witches are known to live in their realm, safe and separated from the rest of sumeru, rarely getting involved with others as in the past they often got taken away and have their powers misused by foul people. so its completely surprising to see one of them living unbothered outside of the realm, avoiding people but not hostile or fearful when approached. his grandmother fell victim to the curse. as a child, he tried his everything to become strong and study a lot, to come up with a spell to relieve her pains and break the curse. he dove deep into the study of curses and ancient runes, deep enough to reach something he was not supposed to see, in order to learn the origin of the curse to weave a spell to counter it. he did not manage to do that but he did come up with the beginnings of a spell that can halt curses for some time. it came too late though because his grandmother had passed away. shortly after, he was banned from the realm for studying the origins in order to learn the truth about the curse and how to break it. banishment serves as a way to protect; if a witch commits too many of the sins, the power of knowledge might corrupt and destroy them. the rules exist to rein the thirst and curiosity in; to protect from the truths. despite everything, haitham never ceased his studies. the older the word, the more power it holds; so basically by being a nerd he grew really strong in magical powers so there is no need for him to feel fear outside of the realm. he also knows perfectly well how to wield a sword (he has one) and how to kick ass without magic or weapons. hes completely capable on his own. haitham does the barest minimum out of comfort and doesnt reveal anything about himself which often leads to people (who dont know him) to underestimate and mistake him for the feeble mage he likes to call himself - much to their regret.

he enjoys to mess with kaveh and doesnt care if he is a prince or cursed (which kaveh actually enjoys but would never admit it, since ppl usually treat him different because he is the prince and cursed) and decides to accompany him on his journey out of his own interest in the curse, its origin and the truths, but also in kaveh - developing feelings for him and his early motivations changing later on.

haitham is able to understand animals and other creatures - mehrak and kavehs beast form included.

ㅤㅤ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ beast kaveh and corrupted haitham ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

now, despite haitham being able to buy kaveh more time with his spell, some time on their journey a huge incident accelerates the curse, about to claim kaveh in the end. haitham is struck by fear for the first time and decides to try one last thing no matter how much of a risk it is.

he succeeds and manages to rein in the uncontrolled flow of the curse in kavehs body. since he was in the process of turning completely and losing himself to the curse, kaveh gains the ability to freely change between his cursed beast form and his normal, human form.

he is completely stable of mind and himself but his speech is a garbled whispery mess in non human language so he cant communicate with others except with haitham.

haitham on the other hand took a great risk with changing the flow; by interfering with life and death he committed another sin and exposed himself to the curse during the ritual. he took the damage on the mind and soul that was meant for kaveh; basically splitting the curse between them, risking corruption more and more - if it didnt start already.

[ the others will get added here over time/more lore or other info, this is just the main post and constantly in work ig (i rlly need to sleep now byeeee) ]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. links ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✦ tiny more or less beginning comic

✦ haitham gets turned into a cat by accident (kitty witch haitham arc)

✦ haitham lore (grandma)

✦ forest spirit mehrak

✦ tighnari, cyno, haitham, dehya (the squad around prince kaveh)

✦ haitham likes to simply take kavehs stuff and here is why

✦ general tag for all my fantasy AU doodles (sfw) (not sfw is on other blog, 18+ only)

#fantasy au #own art #tppbw

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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Diamonds

pausing our regularly scheduled program with a luke hemmings blurb bc i love him and his solo music and i'm sad i couldn't go to any of his shows 😔 i'll get back to harry soon, but i'll take inspo wherever i can rn. enjoy!

"The next one we're gonna play for you is one of the most vulnerable songs I've ever written," Luke said, mouth pressed up against the microphone. The shimmer you helped spread over the lids of his eyes practically glowed under the blue lights that lit the stage. You thought he looked ethereal, the very embodiment of the music he was performing tonight.

"When I was putting together the final tracklist for this album," Luke continued, "I was hesitant to add this song because I was afraid that it was too vulnerable, but I was convinced that it was worth sharing, that the emotions and experiences behind this song would reach those who needed to hear it the most.

"The person who convinced me, and played a crucial part of making this record, is here tonight, and to them, I would just like to say thank you. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't and making me brave enough to truly face my demons. You pulled me out of the deep end when it felt like I was drowning, and I would be a completely different person than I am today without you. I love you. My heart and soul is yours to keep."

Cheers were heard throughout the venue as the opening chords began. As Luke started to sing, you were thankful that you decided to watch the concert from backstage, unable to keep tears from welling in your eyes.

"Cut like diamonds and sink like stones, starve myself 'til I'm skin and bone, I'm so much older than I ever thought I would be."

He said that often. My heart and soul is yours to keep. Yours to keep safe, was what he meant. It had taken him a long time to open up to you and trust your ability to be a good partner, so him saying that his heart was yours was huge. He trusted you that much not to break his heart, to never let him sink back into old habits and bitter thoughts. That level of trust meant everything to you.

In his little speech, Luke thanked you for being the one to convince him to release the song, which was true in a way. He'd been conflicted about the song at first, not ready to share such a dark period of his life so publicly. The song had originally been just a way to express himself, to put everything he'd been through on paper without ever letting it see the light of day.

Luke had shared what the song was about, had opened up to you just what had made him feel that way in the past—toxic relationships, poor decisions that led to even worse habits, hurting the people closest to him, all of his mistakes. He didn't hide any of it from you, and you took all of those misgivings, all of those past mistakes, and showed him that you loved him anyway.

"How far is far? Are we too deep in? How dark is dark? I need to see it."

It wasn't easy at first. When you met, Luke wasn't in a place where he could give himself to anyone emotionally. He believed that he was too damaged to be loved the way he deserved and that he was better off being alone and unhurt than trying to fall in love again and risk being completely ruined by someone he thought he could trust. He had been more closed off than anyone you'd ever met, but all of it just made you want to show him what love without conditions looked like. And he couldn't fathom why. Luke was never rude to you about it. He never snapped at you or pushed you away or treated you badly to make a point, he just truly believed that he wasn't worth your time.

*.*

You were at his house, hanging out as friends. Only this time you surprised him by bringing him flowers.

Luke had been completely dumbfounded, unsure of your intentions. You told him it was just to brighten up his home a little, and because you liked doing nice things for the people you cared about. He didn't question you much further, but the rest of the time you were together, you caught him staring at the bouquet that stood in the vase you'd placed them in. His gaze had been wary and apprehensive each time, and you finally told him the truth.

"I want to take you on a date," you said simply.

Luke seemed surprised, which led to a conversation that was perhaps a step below an argument, but only because you calmly listened to Luke and evaded his tactics to push you away with ease.

"I—I don't deserve you," he finally said, but his voice was heavy with emotion, like he desperately didn't want it to be true.

"Who decides what we do and don't deserve, Luke?" you said to him, resting your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently. To your surprise, he didn't pull away.

"I'm not good enough for you," he amended.

With a close-lipped smile, you leaned over from your spot on his couch and placed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the furrow there. "I think you think you're a worse person than you are."

You kissed his brow, your touch just enough for him to feel your lips brush his skin. When you pulled back, you tapped his nose with your knuckle. "I won't push you, and I won't try to fix you," you said, because the truth was, you didn't believe he needed fixing. But you knew you weren't going to be able to convince him of that. Not now, anyway. "But I will tell you this: you are a remarkable person, and when you're ready, I'd love to love you one day."

*.*

"I'm on my way out, losing the dream. I feel it crash down, down on me. Caught in the madness, holding on me. Is this the way it will always be?"

It took some time, but Luke eventually believed what you did from the day you met him. You were there to see him through the thick of it, holding his hand when he needed you to and giving him space when he asked. He'd gone off to write for a little while, and when he came back, you could practically see the weight lift from his shoulders. It was as if he'd left his biggest demons at the cabin he'd been staying in.

And now he was at his own solo concert performing the songs that held the deepest secrets of his heart. Luke sang each word with passion and pride, the kind that came from knowing that he'd overcome the darkness that had held him for so long. He wasn't drowning anymore, but he sang his songs so that his fans could see that it was possible to be in a dark place and come out of it.

The song faded to its end, and Luke bowed before the crowd as they cheered. He held his hands together in front of his face, the appreciation written in his features abundantly clear. You watched him survey the crowd with so much pride you thought you were going to burst, but you ended up just shedding a couple more tears instead.

While fans were still cheering and his band was playing chords that would lead into the next song, Luke jogged to the side of the stage where you were standing. You hadn't expected him to come over to you, but when you saw his face, you knew what he needed.

Your arms opened for him just in time as he wrapped himself around you. He held onto you tight, his face buried in your hair as he lifted you off the ground. You held on just as fiercely, hoping it would sufficiently express just how much you loved him.

Time stopped as Luke held you in his arms. He had a whole crowd waiting for him to sing the next song, but neither of you seemed worried about getting him back onstage. When he finally set you back down, you kissed his cheek a couple times before kissing him properly, your hands on either side of his face.

"Okay, okay, no more of that," you said, when he kept trying to follow your lips as you pulled away from him, wanting just one more kiss. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Now go. Everyone's waiting for you."

Luke began to turn like he was going to do just as you said, but before he walked away, he spun on his heel and caught you in one last kiss. Satisfied by your tinged cheeks, he grinned and kissed your cheek. "Mean the world to me, darlin.'"

Hearing him say that made you melt every single time, and he knew that. Shoving his shoulder playfully toward the stage, you said, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Now go be a rockstar, will you? You're keeping everyone waiting. Myself included."

Luke finally turned around for real and did just that.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings oneshot #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings angst

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littledollll · 10 months

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hey sweetheart :'3 I was wondering if you were taking request. If you are would you be open to do a Lucifer x little angel reader. I just love your little fic if these and I'm always looking for more if them. I think I've read them all tho. So my idea was that maybe Lucifer and reader could have a fight I'll let you decide why. Then reader decide to go hide from Lucy and our favorite god starts panicking and all. Over all just really cute stuff 😊😊💖 Thank you for reading and have a nice day bby💕

The Gardens

Lucifer Morningstars x Little!angel!reader

A/n: man i just hope this is half decent. Got a little motivated to write about this idea when I got the request which made me very excited! I rarely let us see when R isn’t regressed which is kinda the point? But I think insights like this are really fun to write! (May 6)

A/n pt 2.: finishing this July 21 at 3am, where did I go wrong? I’m so sorry I took so damn long it’s insane bc i don’t even notice time passing. I was looking back at my old fics and noticed I’m always writing R going to sleep? I love that cuz some of my friends actually call me “sleepy” because apparently I’m always tired. (I am)

Warnings: a little arguing, Lucifer says some hurtful things, not much else. Just some sweet fluff after the hurt.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Im the judge here. I alone decide the punishments and how souls will be handled. You might be my partner but you hold no power over me or hell. These are not your decisions to make or have a say on.” It was an angry spew of words. Lucifer doesn’t like having their authority challenged and you were the one person who could do that. For the first time, your own opinions were voiced in their work, and Lucifer didn’t seem willing to listen or like it at all.

Never in your time living in hell had you and Lucifer clashed about something so much.. it hurt, not to be ironic but it hurt like hell. Lucifer had never spoken to you in such a way. Never before had they used their intimidation tactics on you.

Lucifer being unnecessarily stubborn didn’t help at all, as they refused to actually listen to your opinion or swallow their pride and compromise. Or simply speak to you like an equal. Their words almost stung. “You have no power here.” That’s what they meant. And you couldn’t bear to listen anymore or even respond after that.

After a certain point you just gave up and walked away, leaving whatever they were about to spit back, in the dust, mid-sentence, and then ending up with a confused shocked expression. No one gets to just walk away from The Devil.

The worst part was that you wanted to run to them. As if words and a voice laced with venom hadn’t just been thrown in your face. As if they’d protect you even from their own self. They’ve always been your safe space, your comfort.. but you couldn’t, not today, not after your argument.

At first they were fine with you just walking away. They admit to being stubborn and hard to talk to.. everyone needs a little space to think sometimes, right? But then hours and more hours passed and you still refused to show.. it’s like you were hiding from them. There’s nothing Lucifer hated more than the thought of that. Did they really mess up that badly? That you, the most forgiving and lovely being they’ve ever met, simply refused them?

They couldn’t possibly leave it like that. Let you believe they think regularly of you, like you aren’t the most important being in their life, like you aren’t their special angel. So settling their pride aside accompanied with a bit of anxiety, they set out to find you.

You had gone to your safe space.. hiding away physically and mentally, letting your much calmer but also a lot sadder, little self take control.

Lucifer searched high and low for you, all around the palace, going as far as to actually ask for help looking. And thankfully it occurred in their mind that there was always one place you went when you seek comfort, and that was the little hidden gardens of the palace.

And there you were. Quietly sitting by their most recently planted flowers, daisies in fact. They always claimed those flowers suited you perfectly, not just the look, but the meaning. Which included purity, innocence, new beginnings, joy and cheerfulness. All things they saw in you. All things they loved about you. But of course there’s more, so much more that they love.

“My angel..” their voice was a complete contrast to their earlier attitude. Cautious as they approached you but still with a rush to have you close. Lucifer was unsure you’d ever forgive them, but there was no way you could possibly resent them, maybe you should have, but it wasn’t in your heart to reject them, so you let them approach without scurrying away.

Lucifer got down to your level, kneeling down on the floor and holding their hands out for you, which you immediately took, being pulled into a tight hug, their wings wrapping around you, effectively hiding you from the world just because they knew you loved it so much. They pressed a kiss to your forehead before hugging you close again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet angel…”

Not knowing how to respond, you nodded just a little as you nuzzled close to their shoulder, basking in the warmth and comfort of their hug. “I should’ve never said that.. never. And I promise you I didn’t mean a single word of it. I’m.. I’m in no way excusing myself, and my awfully hurtful words- but I’m just not used to this, angel..”

You could understand that.. there’s no being of higher power here in hell, even in the universe actually, no one but them and the very God that created and banished them. They’re not used to being challenged or disagreed with, and ever the sinner they are also quite prideful, even as an angel. “I’ve done this alone for so long.. of course there’s other lords.. and Mazikeen. But not even they step in when it comes to my decisions, and when you did- I felt questioned. Which I recognize should be much more frequent than it is, but it’s a new thing, and I responded very wrongly to it.”

Not for a moment did the soft tone leave their voice, a mere whisper as they hugged you and refused to let go. They’d apologize for eternity if you so requested it. But even in your headspace you could appreciate them taking accountability, and recognizing that it was wrong. Not just that it caused a bad reaction from you. “I’m working on it, I promise. Your opinion does matter to me, In whatever situation, your voice matters to me.”

It hurt, of course it hurt. But Lucifer is always sincere in their word, and they were willing to work together, that’s all that mattered to you. So you quite adorably mumbled out a little, ‘I forgive’, as you rest your chin on their shoulder. And Lucifer couldn’t be happier. “Thank you, my sweet angel.. but also, you can’t hide away from me like that, tiny. You had me running all over the palace looking for you like a maniac!” They said in a more playfully, less serious tone as they chuckled.

“Let’s make a deal, yeah?.. if anything of the sort ever happens again, can I trust that you’ll be in your little room? Even if we’re a little upset at each other I always want to know that you’re safe. I understand needing a moment to decompress and think, that certainly helped me a lot today. But I’d just like to know you’re safe and that we can talk when we’re ready to, how does that sound?” You giggled as their voice took a more playful tone and you nodded, moving away a little to look at them, an adorable little smile painted on your face. “Deals!!” You said, rather excited despite the topic.

Of course you were aware that it was indeed quite possible to run into more arguments and disagreements like this, and even more that you’d slip. But knowing how much they care for you and love you, how much they worry and want you to be safe was quite reassuring that no matter what problems you ran into there wasn’t a thing you couldn’t surpass with just a little talking and cuddles.

They nodded, placing a soft kiss on your temple and deciding just then to take a moment and sit outside with you, which was rare, for reasons neither you or they could quite place. “It’s a deal then..” they replied with a soft tone, and you could hear their smile as they spoke. It was surprisingly quiet, oddly peaceful being out here with you. They scolded themselves for not doing this sooner and made a mental note for next times.

Of course your regression was still a secret and hell can be a dangerous place but the gardens are safe enough, specially with Lucifer and your hound friend who always stayed near. After a few moments, your voice interrupted their train of thought. “luci likes birdies?” The question seemingly came out of nowhere which made them chuckle a bit. “I do. What’s going on in that cute little mind of yours to ask me that, sweet one?” Their tone was obviously amused.

“No birdies in hell! Want one.. like morphi!” It seems your mind was running elsewhere, curiosity of things you always wanted to question but didn’t. “You could have one.. how about a dove? Just like you are my little dove.” Lucifer smiled and placed a little kiss on the tip of your nose, making you giggle and shy away. You were quick to nod and respond with a slight tone of awe. “Dovs pretty!”

“As are you!” Lucifer was never one to make spur of the moment decisions.. well- not at least until you came along. But how could they ever say no to you? The little angel wants a hound and a dove, so let’s get them a hound and a dove. Lucifer sighed, not in an upset manner nor exhaustion. More so in content, amused with themselves for being so susceptible to you. “Well then. Looks like my little dove is getting their own..”

#gwendoline christie #lucifer sandman #little angel (lucifer x little!reader)#sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman #🕊️ anon #lucifer morningstar the sandman #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar (the sandman)#the sandman lucifer morningstar #little angel #Little angel (Lucifer x little!angel!reader)

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 7 days

Note

was rereading some of your Ao3 work and had a thought, if Nobby, or any preserved engine for that matter went the way of "passing on" i.e the face fading away as mentioned in "Departure", do you reckon they'd be kept around, or would they be scrapped? I'm not majorly active on Tumblr so apologises if this has been answered somewhere that I've missed, but I was curious.

That's an interesting question (though repeats are fine, dw)! My fics are never necessarily in the same universe unless noted, and for the Nobbyverse in particular I really did remake my mental image of the TTTE world from the ground up - I've never considered 'departure' in the context of that series (excepting only that I supposed poor 115's spirit would have passed on after being buried and abandoned) - so for me this is a new angle to examine.

And I'm cackling a little up my sleeve, because this actually sounds like a great plot set-up… if you own a preserved engine and its spirit has 'passes on,' you've probably fucked up, and very publicly too.

A preserved engine whose animation faded away would lose a great deal of its appeal for the public. I generally suppose that engine sapience has become rarer and rarer over the years of mass-production and cheap-ass maintenance, so in-universe part of the glamour associated with 'the old days' is that people yearn for the times when trains were alive. You go to a transport museum in part to show your kids what a talking vehicle is like because most kids don't meet them anywhere else.

Furthermore, although the general public could certainly get used to visiting 'dead' engines, just like seeing dinosaur skeletons... they aren't used to it because unalive preserved engines are almost unheard-of. Engine spirits 'depart', not out of any old unhappiness but specifically because they believe that they are no longer needed in this world. An engine who knows that they are being preserved for posterity is wildly unlikely to believe that.

But I'm sure it happens, especially for the sort of engines sitting in storage for years on end, waiting for some sort of overhaul or opportunity. However even in those cases it really doesn't take that much care to avoid a 'departure' - machines are like camels when it comes to attention! They are hugely inclined to err on the side of believing they matter to humans. So long as someone visits them regularly with assurance and keeps 'em clean and dry, they are capable of waiting in readiness for quite a long time.

So the norm is that engines are preserved alive and stay alive. Any 'departure' is so abnormal that rail enthusiasts would be pissed. Questions Will Be Asked. Either some heads or gonna roll, or the owning institution's name is going to be mud among railfans.

Thus, if I'm in charge of the York Railway Museum and my staff reports one morning that Coppernob's soul seems to have 'passed on' in the night, I'm gonna be in panic mode.

Which, even as I type this and you read it, we both know means that Nobby has definitely faked them out at some point or another.

If an engine has really 'departed,' however, I expect they're immediately tarp'd ("she's, errm - she's having a nap! 🙃 ") and moved into storage a.s.a.p., where either attempts are made to coax their spirit back, or else the owners hope that the public eventually forgets about them. There are still people who would be interested even in the lifeless body, but too bad for them, they will have a hell of a time ever seeing it now because things will usually be so lock-and-key.

And that brings us to Boxhill, maybe… (? 🤔)

#chatter #ttte plot inspiration #ttte #ttte headcanon #(sorta)

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nalyra-dreaming · 2 months

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WAIT OMG! we never actually hear show louis tell lestat that he loves him?? i know i probably sound stupid but i don’t think that’s something i’ve ever truly picked up on until now. i was rewatching some loustat scenes and got extra sad over lestat constantly feeling like he’s rejected and not loved, then it dawned on me that i don’t think louis said it or even showed it?? do you think that type of declaration will happen in future seasons?

this isn’t louis hate btw, i love them both so much

I love them both, too, and yes, ultimately I think we will get it^^.

…. okay this is a bit of a wasp‘s nest, so... fair warning^^.

Quite a while ago the IWTV writer's room (yes they are, or at least were active on Twitter) answered some questions.

One of them was this:

This... produced quite the backlash and made some huge waves around the fandom.

The thing is, Louis withholding and using that withholding (something the writers called "weaponization of language" here is canon behavior in the books, and something Louis in later books apologizes for.

Of course it is all a bit more difficult than the simplified (tweet)answer here. There is for example the added complexity of Louis losing Paul right after saying these words (something that, given this canon behavior does soften (for lack of a better word) said behavior, and as such was very much done on purpose, imho).

In the clip from the "Murder Mansion" we have already seen Armand commenting on the "withholding" as well, so I fully expect the show (aka the writers here) to keep this canon characterization, as they are obviously building on it.

It is something I also touched on the "intimacy post" a while back. Because for Louis and Lestat, in their good times, when they had sex regularly and bit each other during sex... Louis' inability to say the words probably meant next to nothing. Lestat would have been able to read it in the blood.

Only later, when the eating disorder set that fatal downwards spiral off (again, it bears repeating, this is not assigning blame, but it is an important aspect that started with the choice to not eat human anymore) the lack of the said words started to actually weigh on them.

So yes, eventually, the lack of the words was probably very much grating.

And for Louis it might have actually made it impossible to speak them.

Because, from experience^^, when you mean something it can be very, very hard to say that thing, especially if you know you maybe should have said the words earlier, but didn't - for valid reasons - but now... now they just seem unable to pass your tongue.

I think that is something that happened to Louis there. And Lestat probably didn't really feel rejected at first, but more frustrated, then estranged somewhat, mixed with concern, and then anger, and then and then and then... because he loves Louis.

And Louis loves Lestat.

Very much. Too much, maybe. Too much, maybe, for these words.

(Which is also why he and Lestat were both able to so easily say them during murder night, because then... then they were not meant.)

In the books he eventually does put it into words.

… I love you with my whole soul, and I will always love you, [..] you are my life. I have hated you for that and love you now so much that you’ve been my instructor in loving.

...this is from Blood Communion. Since we already know they are taking from that book.... :)

#asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #iwtv writers #I love you #withholding #weaponizing language

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

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Identity(V) Headcanons: Andrew Kreiss

This one is not a request, just the next in line for my general HCs! As usual, if you like my stuff, feel free to shoot me a request.

-Andrew is a very hot-and-cold person. Mostly cold. …Like 85% cold. But it’s hard to blame him when life’s given him nothing to really have faith in. Once upon a time he still believed that good people existed, but his faith just waned and waned, and that’s long been relegated to fantasy. It’s incredibly difficult to breach his hardened emotional walls now.

-He made a conscious decision to not care about others’ wellbeing years ago so he’s largely indifferent to happenings that don’t involve himself. He’s not interested in looking out for or helping people, defending or comforting them. He does his share of good when he puts them in the ground, and that ought to be enough. And if he takes them out again later…well, if souls are real they’re surely long gone, right?

-Everyone knows he’s got a nasty mouth, right? Andrew was rarely spoken to kindly when he was growing up, and he learned to take those words and turn them back on people to keep them away. If he was always going to be accused of being cursed or demonic or whathaveyou, why should he bother with decorum? He cusses regularly and has called people every cruel name under the sun at some point. The worst of it is reserved for retaliation against people who start talking shit first.

-Andrew is not a weak man. He’s tall and athletic, and he’s adept with a heavy-duty shovel. That is to say, he’s more than capable of defending himself. He strongly prefers to avoid physical confrontation, but he has spent years throwing around bodies and I can assure you it really makes no difference to him whether they still draw breath.

-When he does get along with someone, the old habits die hard. Andrew spends a lot of conversation time still tripping over his own tongue, rephrasing harsh things he says out of instinct to try and be gentler, and then getting visibly angry with himself. (He is also not great at hiding his emotions.) He’s constantly afraid that he’s going to run off the good things he has and be back to square one.

-In an effort to…make up for? Cover up? those snaps he can’t hold back, Andrew sometimes rambles for long stretches. These don’t happen in front of groups, but during one-on-one time with his loved ones. He’ll get onto some topic he’s familiar with (or not, if he’s desperate enough) and just run his mouth off like he’s trying to lure you away from a trap with a treat. He’s not above shoving an actual apology treat at people either, if one is available.

-While not always the best at communicating his thoughts, Andrew is very philosophical under the surface. He’s had a lot of alone time to think over the years, and he’s analyzed every angle he could come up with to rationalize and understand his lot. He would really enjoy having a friend or partner who is up for those deep, 2-am conversations about the meaning of life and the universe. His own views lean towards the despondent, but he’d like to hear something more optimistic too.

-Even when close with someone, Andrew doesn’t initiate many conversations. Unlike some of the other introverts in the manor, this isn’t because he’d rather be left alone but because he secretly likes when they seek him out. You coming to him is a very simple reminder that his company is enjoyable and desired.

-The best Love Language for Andrew is probably Quality Time. He would like any of them if it came from someone he genuinely learned to love and trust, but Quality Time is what you’d need to reach that cherished place in his heart. Andrew acts prickly as a defense mechanism, and he needs someone who’s willing to endure his snappiness and show him they wouldn’t prefer to spend their time and energy on someone else.

-Andrew is the type to admire things silently. He gives compliments very sparingly, so when he does give them you know he really means it.

-He is plagued by back and shoulder pains. It’s mostly from his profession, standing hunched over for hours on end, and it’s affected even his resting posture now. He doesn’t just curl in on himself as an anxiety thing, he is sore. Can the Baron please invite a chiropractor next? A masseuse? …Yoga instructor?

-He’s mostly nocturnal at this point. (The manor’s scheduling has messed that up, though.) It’s not just sun-sensitivity, but that he usually worked after sundown when people wouldn’t be around the graveyard to see him.

-He loves a good homecooked meal! The best foods are the ones prepared by someone who loves you, so he’d choose a mediocre dish at home to the fanciest restaurants in the world.

#idv x reader #identity v #identity v x reader #andrew kreiss #idv gravekeeper #andrew kreiss x reader #turbulentscrawl

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violet-1atte · 8 months

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SKZ Kinktober Day 2: Titfucking - Hyunjin/Changbin

Tags: top!Hyunjin, bottom!Changbin, titfucking, oral sex (bj), come eating

AO3 Link

One moment, Hyunjin had a mug full of steaming hot coffee–black, like Minho’s soul (as he secretly said to himself)–and the next, Changbin had a white t-shirt full of that same coffee and Hyunjin’s mug was empty. He had never been so glad he drank his coffee slowly so it wasn't hot enough to burn anymore. Hyunjin had always been clumsy. It was part of his charm. He usually insisted that he at least was less clumsy than Jisung, but even that really wasn’t saying much, and at the end of the day, probably wasn’t even true. He could remember one time where he had knocked Minho’s coffee over and ended up with a mouthful of eleven tissues exactly. He was regularly tripping over his own two feet and he had gotten used to the consequences for the most part.

This time, there was no Minho around to punish him for his clumsiness. However, the consequences of his clumsiness were staring straight at him–in the form of Changbin's coffee soaked shirt clinging to his well defined chest.

Hyunjin had never really considered himself a tits guy until Changbin started working out and his entire world was flipped upside down. He'd spent countless hours fantasizing about Changbin’s chest, about groping it, sucking on it, fucking it–it was more than he would ever admit. And now the culprit of his fantasies were showing right through Changbin’s shirt. He was so glad Chan and Jisung weren't home so no one could witness his embarrassment.

"Fuck–" Changbin cursed as Hyunjin was brought back to reality enough to scramble for some paper towels.

"I am so sorry hyung I swear I didn't see you–" he rambled. He started pressing the paper to Changbin’s shirt to soak up the coffee. When his hands came in contact with his chest, he made a sound in the back of his throat (like any sane person would). Changbin gave him a look that was indecipherable and then wrapped his hand around Hyunjin’s wrist.

"Don't worry about it," he said. He took Hyunjin’s hand away and he could have cried because he was getting to touch the famed jut and dae and it was over all too soon. "I'll just–damn it all my laundry is in the wash," he groaned to himself. Hyunjin didn't bother questioning who managed to run completely out of clothes on laundry day. Maybe he just had too many clothes.

"I'm really sorry," Hyunjin said, his plump lips forming a pout. Changbin gave him a reassuring smile and pushed his shoulder a little.

"Aigo, you need to stop being so clumsy, Hyunjinnie," he said playfully. "It's okay, I'll just…" He pursed his lips in thought for a moment before grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging it over his head.

Hyunjin’s life flashed before his eyes and his mouth went dry.

It's not that he hadn't seen Changbin shirtless before. They'd lived together for years so of course he had. It was just never this close and Changbin really didn't make the habit of walking around shirtless like Chan did. But seeing them like this was better than Hyunjin could have ever imagined. His pecs were larger than some women's boobs and Hyunjin wanted to bury his face between them and never come out. His mouth watered as he imagined kissing and biting them, or sucking one of the pink nipples into his mouth. He couldn't take his eyes away as his mind continued to run wild.

Changbin seemed to notice his staring and he smirked. "Like what you see?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Hyunjin choked on air.

"N-no!" He sputtered, shaking his head. "Of course not! I just noticed your skin was kind of red. You probably need some ointment. I'll get that, of course." Changbin raised an eyebrow–his skin wasn't red. The coffee hadn't been hot enough. It didn't matter. He spun around on his heel and walked toward the bathroom where they kept the first aid kit.

When he returned, Changbin was leaning across the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. His arms pushed his chest up and gave the illusion that he had real cleavage. Hyunjin nearly drooled.

"Here I have the uh–the stuff," he got out eloquently.

Changbin looked a little smug as he took his arms away from his chest. What was that about? "Can you help me put it on? I feel like I won't be able to do it as well."

Hyunjin swallowed thickly. This suddenly felt like the plot to a bad porno. But perhaps that was just Hyunjin projecting his sick wants onto Changbin. There was nothing wrong with a bro helping a bro put ointment on his chest. Except Hyunjin was fucking gay and was especially gay for Changbin.

"Um, yeah, sure," Hyunjin agreed, opening up the ointment. He wasn't sure why Changbin would need his help, especially because it really didn't look like there was actually a burn there, but he wouldn't question it.

He squirted some of the cream onto his fingertips and took a step closer to Changbin. "Okay this might be a bit cold," he warned, voice soft. Changbin nodded and Hyunjin cautiously touched his fingers to his chest, right between his pecs. He started rubbing the ointment around where the burn was supposed to be and Changbin let out a shuddering puff of air. Hyunjin tried to ignore the way the sound affected him.

He moved cautiously at first, afraid of showing how he really felt about this whole situation. But he got braver as he rubbed the cream in and Changbin made little sighs when his fingers grazed the muscles of his chest. "It looks like you need some here too…" Hyunjin practically whispered. He ran his fingers over one of Changbin's pecs and began swirling his fingers around to rub the remnants of the ointment into his skin. His fingers were dangerously close to his nipple. Changbin inhaled slowly and bit his lip as Hyunjin pressed into the pliant muscle. Hyunjin wet his lips. His fingers grazed Changbin’s nipple as he practically groped his chest and Changbin shuddered. Hyunjin decided to test his luck and brushed his fingertips over the nipple again with more pressure. He'd expected Changbin to maybe squirm a little, to give him a warning. What he wasn't expecting was for Changbin to outright moan.

" Shit ," they both swore in unison. Hyunjin would have laughed if the sound hadn't gone straight to his dick and made him half hard in two seconds flat. Instead he held his breath, tension hanging heavily in the air.

Changbin’s cheeks were crimson red. Hyunjin wanted to admire but he was frozen. He probably should move away, should apologize for touching Changbin so suggestively, for–

"Hyunjin," Changbin called, his voice soft and a little hesitant.

Hyunjin snapped back to reality and quickly moved away from Changbin. What was wrong with him? Sure, Changbin flirted with him a lot, but it was all just for fun. He didn't actually want him like that, he'd just asked for his help and now Hyunjin had ruined everything.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed frantically. "I went too far I–I know you were just asking for help, I shouldn't have touched you like that, I'm so sorry Binnie-hyung."

"No wait, Jinnie," Changbin said, reaching for Hyunjin to put a reassuring hand on his arm. "You don't need to apologize. I should because…well I wanted you to do that. To touch me like that," he admitted, the blush on his cheeks darkening. "I shouldn't have though I–I know you always turn down my advances for a reason. I should take the hint. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Hyunjin blinked, trying to process what Changbin just said. The cogs in his brain were doing their best to make sense of it all. It just didn't make sense. Did it? "I–you–what? What do you mean turning down your advances? You're always just joking around about that! You never actually wanted me like that so of course I–" Hyunjin looked over Changbin’s face– his furrowed eyebrows, his pursed lips, the obvious distress in his expression–and his stomach sank. "Right, hyung?"

"Hyunjin what–no! I've been so obvious! You thought I was joking?" Changbin asked, his voice raising a few pitches.

"Yes! Because you…" Hyunjin tried to come up with a reason why he would have thought Changbin was joking. Perhaps to protect himself from possible rejection. "I don't know," he whined. "So all this time you've wanted me?"

"Yeah, you're like, so fucking hot Hyune," Changbin told him. "And a lot more too. But if that actually makes you uncomfortable I promise I'll stop. I won't bother you any–"

"No!" Hyunjin said frantically. "I know I act all grossed out but it's because I was nervous and I thought you were joking and I didn't want you to know how fucking much I want you," he rambled. He ran a hand through his hair. "Oh my gosh I am such a dumbass, no wonder Stay put me with those other two idiots." He shook his head. "I could have had you all this time but because I thought you were joking I've wasted ages where I could have been getting my ass destroyed!"

"Jinnie-yah," Changbin said with a laugh. He grabbed Hyunjin’s hands. "It's okay. We've still got plenty of time. In fact…" He looked around the room. "Chan and Jisung won't be back for a while. We could make up for some lost time." His lips turned up in a smirk and Hyunjin felt heat burst through his stomach.

"Oh," he said dumbly. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he felt a little dizzy. “You want to? Right now?”

“Yeah, if you want to. I mean, I’ve wanted you for ages Jinnie, but we don’t have to now, I can w–”

Hyunjin couldn’t wait. That was all he needed to hear before tossing his arms around Changbin’s neck and leaning down to kiss him. Changbin let out a startled little gasp as Hyunjin connected their lips but he immediately kissed him back, clutching Hyunjin’s sides. Hyunjin liked to tease Changbin about his height, as everyone did, but he couldn’t help finding it cute. And their height difference made it easier for Hyunjin to kiss him deep. Changbin tilted his head up to meet Hyunjin’s lips better and pulled him forward by his waist. There was a sense of sweetness that remained with it at first as they kissed each other, slow and deep. But it seemed like Changbin had other plans.

The grip on his waist tightened and he pressed his hips to Hyunjin’s thigh. Hyunjin gasped when he felt how hard Changbin was through the fabric of his sweats and Changbin used that as an opportunity to lick into his mouth. Hyunjin happily accepted, parting his lips so Changbin could explore his mouth with his tongue. Hyunjin moaned softly as Changbin sucked on his bottom lip and licked across it, tasting him like he was the most delicious thing he’d ever had. Hyunjin tugged him closer, or tried, since their bodies were already plastered together, but he needed more . He let out a breathy whimper as their lips slid together, a little bit of spit slipping from the corner of his lips.

“Changbin–” he said, unsure what he was even trying to ask for. As they’d kissed he’d grown fully hard. It was a little embarrassing how fast he’d gotten worked up, but Changbin was no different, not-so-subtly grinding on his thigh.

“Yeah?” Changbin asked, pulling away for a second. His lips were red and spit-slicked and his round cheeks were such a pretty pink. Hyunjin had never felt more desperate for someone.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, please I’ve wanted you so long I–”

“I could never say no to that.” He pecked Hyunjin’s lips one more time before pulling him to his room and locking the door behind them. Just to be safe. Neither Jisung nor Chan were the best at knocking.

They were back to touching each other as soon as the door was closed, hands groping everywhere they could reach as they stumbled onto the bed. “What do you want, Jinnie?” Changbin asked, running his thumb over Hyunjin’s bottom lip.

There were so many things Hyunjin wanted. He wanted to ride Changbin, to fill himself up with his cock–he wanted to bend Changbin over and pound into him, watch his pretty muscles ripple while he was fucked–most of all though–

“I–” Hyunjin started, swallowing as he gathered the courage to make his request. “I want to fuck your tits. Please.” His face burned as Changbin’s eyes widened.

“Oh?” Changbin asked, letting out a little laugh. His surprise soon turned into smugness and he smirked. “I should’ve known. You’re always grabbing my chest. And the way you were staring earlier too.”

“Don’t tease or I’m getting up and going to my room,” Hyunjin said, although it was clear he was bluffing.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry my Hyunjinnie,” Changbin said, pecking Hyunjin’s cheek. My Hyunjinnie. Hyunjin liked the sound of that. “So how do you…” He trailed off.

“Just lay back,” Hyunjin said. “Do you have lube?”

“Bottom drawer,” Changbin said as he laid back, pointing to the dresser next to the bed. Hyunjin moved quickly to grab the bottle and his eyes landed on what looked like a vibrator shoved further back. His dick twitched in interest but he ignored it. Later. Right now he had one mission and he was going to accomplish it.

He tugged his pants down along with his underwear and his cock bounced against his stomach. His skin burned when he felt Changbin’s gaze on him. He felt exposed but in the best way.

He straddled Changbin’s waist as he got back onto the bed and bit his lip as he looked down at him. “Is this okay?”

“Definitely,” Changbin said with a quick nod. He sounded a little breathless and so turned on. Hyunjin couldn’t hold back a grin.

He ran his hands over Changbin’s chest and inhaled slowly. “Shit hyung you’re so fucking hot,” he groaned. How did he get this lucky? Changbin blushed and his lips pushed out in a pleased pout.

“I could say the same about you. Now are you gonna fuck my chest or what?” He tilted his head as he looked up at Hyunjin and pushed his chest together with his hands.

“Shit,” Hyunjin mumbled, arousal shooting to his aching cock. He uncapped the lube and poured it directly between Changbin’s pecs. Changbin shivered underneath him and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You ready?” Hyunjin asked as he scooted forward so that his cock rested right on Changbin’s chest.

Changbin nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. Use me, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched and he moved his hips so that his cock rested against Changbin’s skin. The feeling was electrifying and he let out a moan at the contact. “Fuck.” He slid his cock between Changbin’s pecs and with Changbin pushing them together it created a perfect amount of friction. He began rolling his hips, starting a steady rhythm that had him seeing stars from the beginning. “Fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Your tits are so perfect, hyung.”

Changbin moaned at the praise and his mouth fell open. “You look so sexy on top of me,” he breathed. Hyunjin bit his lip.

“Th-thank you– mmng , been wanting to do this for so long,” he gasped. He continued fucking through the dip of Changbin’s chest, the lube he’d added making the glide smooth and easy and so, so good. He felt close already and he’d barely been going for a few minutes but he wanted to hold out. He never wanted this to end.

As Hyunjin’s cock slid towards his face, Changbin tilted his head forward and he let his tongue loll out and he licked at the head. Hyunjin let out an obscene moan, tilting his head back. “Fuck, Bin–do that again,” he whimpered. Changbin obliged, licking the precum off the tip of Hyunjin’s cock every time it got close enough, even allowing it to push into his mouth. Hyunjin let out a continuous string of moans as he chased after the pleasure, little ah, ah, ahs passing his lips every time he thrusted forward. Changbin seemed to be affected as well at just the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock on his chest and the taste of it on his tongue.

“Is your chest sensitive, hyungie?” Hyunjin asked, taking notice of the way Changbin seemed to shudder every time he canted his hips forward. He remembered how Changbin had reacted to his fingers brushing over his nipples. “A-are you getting off to this too?” he asked, his voice strained from arousal.

Changbin let out a moan in response and nodded. “Y-ye- ahh,” he managed. “Have always–always been sensitive.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Hyunjin moaned. He took one hand off Changbin’s shoulder and circled his nipple with his fingers. Changbin writhed underneath him and let out another moan that sent pleasure shooting down Hyunjin’s spine. “Fuck.”

Hyunjin squeezed his pec and Changbin’s back arched and his hands shook where they held his breasts together. “Hyunjin, Hyunjin–” he chanted, tossing his head back into the pillows.

Hyunjin felt the coils of heat in his stomach tighten. Changbin looked obscene like this. His pupils were blown and his lips and chest were smeared with precum from Hyunjin’s cock. He was red from his face to his chest and his lips were parted with breathless moans as Hyunjin continued playing with his nipples, now both hands on his chest. He could feel his orgasm approaching fast.

“I’m getting close,” he warned Changbin. He took in shaky breaths as his stomach tightened and sparks zipped down his spine.

Changbin leaned his head forward again and opened his mouth. “Come on me, in my mouth,” Changbin urged. The sight of Changbin opening his mouth like that underneath him was enough to send Hyunjin over the edge with one more slide of his cock. He came with a desperate cry, cum splattering across Changbin’s chest, face, and tongue. Changbin kept his tongue out the entire time Hyunjin came and when he finished, slumping back, he swallowed. He licked his lips clean and Hyunjin felt his dick twitch at the sight.

“Fuck,” Changbin muttered, looking at Hyunjin with dazed eyes.

“Fuck is right,” Hyunjin agreed with a laugh. He shook a little as he moved off of Changbin’s chest. His body felt entirely spent, but there was still more he wanted. Before Changbin could even make a complaint about being sticky and messy, Hyunjin leaned over him and began lapping his own cum off his chest.

“Holy shit,” Changbin gasped. “You’re filth– oh .” Hyunjin grinned as he swirled his tongue around one of his nipples and ran his tongue up his chest to clean his collarbones. “What the fuck Hyunjin,” he breathed and Hyunjin let out a little laugh.

“Just taking care of my hyung,” he said innocently, licking his lips. Changbin shook his head, eyes wide with awe. “Now…” Hyunjin started, looking down at Changbin’s tented sweats which had an obvious wet spot on them. He reached down and palmed at his crotch. “Can I take care of you in another way?”

Changbin had never agreed to anything faster in his life.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids smut #hyunbin #hyunjin x changbin #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #titfucking #blowjov #helping your bro clean coffee off his chest #smut

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tiredmetalenthusiast · 18 days

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Poems of Love Pt.2 (Gaz x F!Reader)

Wooooo okay! Sorry for the long wait ya’ll! End of school year work takes up a lot of my time! But With the school year ending soon I should be able to post more regularly! PLUS part 2 is finally here! Please enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of masturbation, Price being observant, language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that first letter it was like something had shifted about Gaz. He was happier, his eyes brighter even despite the constant horrors they lived through on a daily basis. He thought about that letter all the time, when he was feeling down he would pull it out and read it, it gave him a warm feeling.

Letters kept popping up every now and again, at least twice a month there would be a new letter under his door, usually when something happened but occasionally just out of the blue.

The most recent one was slipped under his door after being undercover and he'd be lying if he said the contents didn't make a blush rise to his face.

He catches himself hoping the person is you. Even now as he openly stares. You had gotten new workout clothes since your old ones were ratty.

Johnny had whistled as he saw you walk into the gym area on base. Sports bra showing ample cleavage and the little biking shorts showcasing your ass. “Dinnea Ken ye were hidin all tha’ from us Bonnie.” “You literally saw me in a dress for that stupid gala Soap.”

“‘S no the same hen. Thought ye were hiding chicken legs under yer uniform!” you laughed and flipped Soap off, “Fuck off Mactavish! Compared to you lot everyone has chicken legs!”

Gaz had been staring at you, taking in your curves, the way the tops of your breasts swelled from how the sports bra squished them together and his brain was rapid firing dirty thoughts. He went back to lifting his weights to take his mind off of how good your ass looked.

And now it was your turn, staring at Gaz as he lifted his weights, he'd been in here for a while as you could see the sweat soaking his workout shirt. His muscles bunching and releasing as he lifted and dropped the weights, you gulped to keep yourself from drooling and turned away to start your workout.

“Bloody ridiculous.” Gaz turns to look at Price, one eyebrow raised in question. “What's ridiculous, sir?”

Price shook his head. “You for starters. You've been staring at her arse for a good long minute without blinking.”

Gaz startles before rapidly blinking his eyes, noticing the slight dryness. “Nah Cap, you're seein things.”

Price scoffs and heads for the shower. When Gaz turns back you're nowhere in sight. He decides to head for the showers as well to clear his head and rub out a fast one to the images he was suppressing earlier.

-several hours and a tiring mission later- Gaz POV-

It didn't surprise him when, after a long day and a nice hot shower, there was a letter resting on his floor. The envelope was light blue this time and smelled of roses.

He sat on the edge of his bed, towel around his waist as he carefully opened the letter.

To the angel at my 6

If ever I could speak to the old Renaissance artists, I would request sculptures of you to be placed in churches around the world.

Women all over would fawn at the way you encapsulate their dream man, handsome; polite; a god in human form; the beautiful demon that haunts and charms them.

Seeing you working up a sweat at the gym, the lights hitting just right made you look godly, almost ethereal. Like Apollo striking in the sun’s warm rays.

The sheen of sweat on your skin makes me wonder if you'd look the same coming out of a pool, the way the ocean's droplets would fall from Poseidone himself emerging from the ocean.

I hope most nights that you dream of me as I dream of the thought of feeling your warm skin against mine in the heat of passion. Thoughts of you warm my soul as if heated by the flames of hell itself and I couldn't love the feeling more if I tried.

Gaz stared at the letter for a long while, his face felt warm, eyes wide at the thoughts of him laid bare on the rose scented paper in lovely script.

How could anyone compare him to gods and say that he is worthy of being a Renaissance sculpture? Him? The man with a fear of helos? Compared to Apollo and Poseidone? Whoever was writing these letters had to be absolutely off their rocker.

He wasn't worthy of such comparisons but damn did they make him feel on top of the world. Laying the letter down he got up to dress for bed before placing the letter in his desk drawer with the others.

If anyone were to ask him which was his favorite letter he would never be able to decide. Each one bringing about a blush or a racing heart, how could he ever choose?

He'll have to ask one of the guys to help him find out who this mystery person is leaving him letters of love and poems in the dead of night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @cumikering

#~Harley finally writes something🫣#The Love Letter Series #call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader

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freesia-writes · 11 months

Note

Hello lovely 🥰

Congratulations on 500 followers 🎉

For your celebration event, may I request Fives x Fem!Reader for dialogue prompt 14, "Can I try something? Close your eyes", with Fives speaking the dialogue to Fem!Reader?

Please and thank you 💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Helloooo and thank you SO MUCH for your patience on this one! That Crosshair fic really got away from us. ;) But oh man. This one got away from me!! LOL. I hope it's a lovely wonderful read for you. I really, really enjoyed it and have a total soft spot for Fives even more so now. ;) xoxo

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Word Count: 6.4k (eep!) Content Warnings: drinkin and kissin. ;)

The door to 79s slid open and admitted an entire herd of boisterous clones, laughing and tripping over one another as though their party had started long ago. The volume in the room rose significantly as the 501st appeared, fanning out around the bar to greet familiar faces (and immediately begin hitting on new ones) before making an eventual loop to place drink orders and settle into their corner booth. You tilted your head to the side, gesturing for your friend to take a look. She was visiting from out of town and had all but begged you to show her the raucous cesspool known as the clone bar, not mincing a single word about her desire to blow off some steam “with one or however many of those wild test tube boys”. You weren’t sure where she’d gotten her information about the clones, but weren’t one to argue, and instead were rather looking forward to tagging along for her night of shenanigans.

It wasn’t long until your table was approached by a few of the newcomers, and your friend sat up, putting on her best winning smile, and curled a long lock of hair around a finger as enticingly as she could. You wanted to try as much as her, really you did, but the soul-sucking job and realities of your less-than-glamorous life were resting heavily on your shoulders, and you weren’t one for one-night stands anyway. Well, not anymore, at least. You’d kill for some conversation of substance, but didn’t expect to find it in a dive bar for soldiers on leave, most of whom tended to have a “live hard or die trying” sort of mentality that emphasized action more than reflection. But for your friend, who had recently emerged from beneath the well-meaning but crippling guardianship of very strict parents, it was precisely what she was on the hunt for.

“Damn, is there a spaceport nearby or is that my heart taking off?” a clone that somehow looked bigger than his identical brothers squeezed between you, evoking a cringing laugh from you and a playful giggle from her.

“That is… so bad…” you breathed off to the side, gasping as another clone materialized there out of thin air.

“You’re telling me,” he said, also under his breath, as he stood beside the table, watching the flirty exchange. Your friend had wasted absolutely no time, and was tracing her fingers across the giant Republic cog tattooed across her pursuer’s bald head, gasping and smacking him on the shoulder plate after he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. You jerked your gaze up, startled by the unexpected voice of the wingman beside you.

“Ah, you get to hear this regularly?” you asked, smirking at him in the hopes that he had an equal distaste for the ridiculous games. He nodded dramatically, as though it were the burden he had to bear, and you warmed a bit inside. He tilted his head forward, resting an elbow on the table to continue chatting, and as he moved himself more under the light you could see the tattoo of a 5 on his forehead, tucked beneath his neat military crew cut. His goatee gave him the appearance of age, perhaps even of a more distinguished taste…

“So aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” he purred, arching an eyebrow suggestively, and your little flicker of interest was quickly snuffed out. You usually played dumb, acting as boring as possible to see how quickly they could lose the patience to persist, but when it was early enough, you sometimes attempted to see just how much ridiculousness you could get away with. A quick glance at your friend gave you a decent estimate -- judging by the story she’d just embarked on, one of her early plays to put certain ideas in a man’s head, you would be here for a while.

“That’s it, actually,” you said, raising your drink to him in cheers, “I get paid to be sexy.” You took a satisfied sip before the full realization of your words, and their insinuations, sank in, and you choked on your drink over your glass, catching the eye of the two lovebirds next to you. “Kriff, I mean, not like that…” you started, gasping for air and pressing a napkin to your mouth.

“Hey babes, we all gotta get by somehow. I’ll be damned if I ever judge a beautiful woman for choosing a path of pleasure for her life or work,” he crooned, making you cough harder into your elbow. “You alright? Need some mouth to mouth?” You waved him off, laughing and spluttering at the same time now, and he chuckled along with you, mistaking your mirth for encouragement. His arms snaked around your waist, and he pulled your pack against his armor-plated chest, jokingly pressing beneath your ribcage as he went to mutter something suggestive in your ear. Your flailing was ill-placed (or perfectly-placed), and a stray elbow crashed into his nose with more force than you’d ever intentionally use. He dropped you onto your stool with a yelp, both hands rushing to his face, giving you a look of surprise with eyes that were instantly watering with the pain of your blow.

A chorus of “whoa, hey” and “geez lady” and “damn Fives what did you do” echoed all around as you regained your breath, still unable to speak without sounding like a gravelly old woman, coughing between each word. “Karking hell, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, scooting back reactively when he pulled his hands away to reveal a bright smear of blood across his upper lip, with more joining it from his nose. Your friend squealed in disgust, covering her eyes and immediately beginning to hyperventilate, and her bald hero in plastoid armor scooped her into his arms as she pretended (you were pretty sure) to become faint, swooning against him with lovestruck eyes. He leaned over to his comrade for a moment, muttering something sympathetic that ended in a word you hadn’t heard before -- di’kut -- before carrying your friend across the room, stopping by a booth full of clones for a moment before finding a more private, empty table.

You continued your profuse apologies as you grabbed every napkin you could reach, on your table and the neighboring ones, offering them to him with genuine sheepishness. He pinched them against the bridge of his nose, still unable to get a word in edgewise amid your swearing up and down that it hadn’t been intentional. When another bald clone in similar colors appeared at his elbow, with a head that was similarly covered in tattoos, he rolled his eyes with a groan, swatting at the newcomer with a napkin.

“I’b find, Kix,” he sighed, his lisped speech caused by the wad of paper tightly pressed against his nostrils.

“I know,” the one apparently called Kix responded, giving you a quick nod of the head, “I just wanted to come see. You look good, vod.” His words dripped with sarcasm, and he disappeared back to the booth with an overly-cheerful wave, leaving you awkwardly sitting with the mess you’d created. You felt frozen in place -- you didn’t want to just ditch him, after what you’d done, but as he sat with his head tilted slightly up, keeping one eye on you the entire time as though you were an active threat, you wished you could be literally anywhere else.

Once the bleeding stopped, and he removed the napkin fortress with a tentative sniff and a wrinkle of his nose, he turned back to you, completely shocking you with the optimistic warmth that remained. “Okay,” he said, holding both hands up in surrender, “No further advances will be made. Message received loud and clear!”

You laughed, palming your forehead against your head, though wildly relieved at his quick return to playfulness. “I’m so sorry,” you said for the hundredth time, truly having no idea where to go from here.

“It’s alright,” he answered. “The name’s Fives,” he continued, offering a hand as if it were the most natural progression one could imagine. “I like you. Got a little bit of fire in ya, eh?” You shook his hand, unable to hide the cringe at the overt flirtation, although it was laced with an amused smile.

“I thought you said no further advances…” you began, but he interrupted.

“Advances? No no no. Just complimenting you on your backswing. But if you did feel guilty and want to do your part to help the morale of the poor boys of the Grand Army of the Republic…”

You laughed for real this time, swatting his arm reflexively. His relentlessness would normally peeve you by now, but you still felt bad, and he didn’t seem to have the pervert energy of someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer, but rather an indomitable cheerful spirit that was hard to come by these days. He gasped, pulling his arm against his chest and cradling it with the other, eyebrows drawing together as he immediately looked hurt and affronted. Your mouth fell and a chill shot down your spine for a split second before his theatrics dawned on you.

“You’re not even hurt there!” you exclaimed, laughing and considering hitting him again.

“Oh well,” he said, dropping the facade and joining you in a hearty chuckle. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his laugh rumbled in his chest was disproportionately endearing, and you shook your head at the entire ordeal.

“Alright… Fives…” you said, trying out his name, which sounded exceedingly odd on your lips. “Who’s got my friend over there? Should I call the police droids?” You jerked your head to the booth where your friend had disappeared beneath a pile of blue and white armor that, judging by the way it moved quite sensually, still had its occupant inside.

He followed your gaze, an almost appreciative smirk curving his lips as he spotted the two. You could have sworn you also saw the hint of a flush creeping up the side of his neck and cheeks, but when he turned back to you, it disappeared, and you wrote it off as an illusion of the many neon lights surrounding the bar. “That’s Jesse,” he answered, “And he’s alright. But if she’s looking for a real ride…” he began, making some rolling motions with his hips and sending your face into your palm again. “Okay, okay. I’m kidding. She will be given a fun time, everything she ever dreamed of, and politely left without any expectation of anything more. If she wants romance and love letters, she should find some sucker from the 212th.”

You exhaled out your nose, dropping your gaze to the table. “Maybe I should find a sucker from the 212th…” you muttered, gaping up at him when you realized you’d said it aloud. “For her…” you followed quickly, but the smile that flitted across his face called your bluff.

“Maybe you should,” he said, more quietly now. “Well, it was nice to meet you, and to be beaten into submission as I was trying to save your life. If you’re looking to do any other good deeds, you can usually find me here. Can’t miss me,” he teased, slowly backing away with a grin. But as he tapped the side of his head in a mock salute before turning to rejoin his table, you committed that little 5 on his forehead to memory.

* * *

Months passed, and it became a regular occurrence for you and Fives to encounter each other at 79s. Your friend had been so enthralled with the experience and the glamorous life on Coruscant as a whole, that she had moved in with you for a while to explore this new side of life. As such, you found yourself at her side at the clone bar almost weekly, and you entertained yourself by watching Fives make his rounds every time. He was forward and playful, flirting with virtually anything that moved it seemed, and his loud jokes and swaggering “bro” behavior gave you plenty of opportunities to roll your eyes. You were grateful that he had left you alone after that initial encounter, although there was a tiny part of you that wondered if the braggadocious exterior was really who he was at the core. But it didn’t matter -- he was so busy trying to “score”, as you frequently heard him holler, that you had no reason or chance to find out.

Your own life kept your thoughts fairly busy -- you were in the exciting stages of a new relationship, and a promising promotion at work was lurking just over the horizon. You allowed yourself to cut loose and have fun a bit more, sometimes joining your friend on the dance floor but shifting away demurely when you inevitably felt a codpiece suddenly thrust against your backside. You grew used to the carousel of “regulars” -- squads of clones from various platoons, characterized by armor coloring or other details -- and grew to feel quite at home in the flashy, loud bar.

One night in particular, you made your usual move, swerving behind your friend when you felt a gloved pair of hands settle on your hips and the presence of a stranger behind you, but a sudden voice in your ear surprised you. “Wait, sorry -- just stay here for one minute,” a clone said, and you turned your head to see the familiar face of Fives, bent low behind you in the semblance of dancing, but watching across the room like a hawk, his golden eyes fixed intently on something.

“What are you--” you began, but he pulled you back against his chest, tucking his face into your hair suddenly, and you started to squirm to free yourself, alarmed at having arms around you that were not your boyfriend’s.

“Please, just a second,” he said urgently against the side of your face, “She’s almost gone.”

Your indignant struggle slowed, and you groaned aloud at his absolute ridiculousness, scanning the room for any affronted-looking women as he stayed close behind you, slowly rotating you with hands on your hips to keep you at a certain angle between him and his target.. A Twi’lek with a blazing scowl stalked across the bar counter, glaring daggers at the few misfortune clones who made eye contact with her, and your face relaxed into a smile as you watched her storm down the hall toward the refreshers.

“She’s in the freshers,” you called over your shoulder, and he stood up to his regular height, blowing your hair out of his face. But his hands remained, and his armor-covered body continued to slide along yours to the beat of the music, swaying side to side and taking you along with him. “Fives!” you yelled, voice drowned in the new song that was now blaring at full volume, and you turned around, finding yourself within inches of his flushed, glowing face, accentuated by a few beads of sweat across his brow. You were shocked by the full-body tingle that cascaded down you without warning, and pulled back with a sudden jerk. “She’s gone!” you bellowed, before spinning on your heel to find respite and solitude in the quieter upper level of the bar.

Fives found you a little while later, sinking into the booth beside you as though he were completely exhausted. The music was far less intrusive, and the walls behind the cushioned seats managed to keep a good deal of the other noise out as well. You’d ordered some fries, and you were enjoying them in peace until he joined you. But he came bearing gifts -- a drink in each hand -- and slid one in front of you as he sat next to you, using the same hand to help himself to a couple fries with a roguish grin in your direction.

“What am I, your vod all of a sudden?” you teased, trying out the word that you were pretty sure meant “friend” or “brother” or something along those lines.

“That would be weird,” he laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders with sudden familiarity, but you squirmed it off quickly.

“I’ve got a boyfriend, Fives,” you reminded him, and he shrugged it off with equal ease.

“And I’ve got a million women beating down the door to spend one private minute with me,” he returned without missing a beat, “But here I am with you.”

You laughed, accepting the drink and lifting it to him in appreciation, taking a generous gulp without sniffing it first. It burned down your throat and exploded through your nasal passages in alcoholic fury, sending you into a coughing fit reminiscent of the first time you met. Now it was his turn to laugh, and he clapped you on the back in the most unhelpful way.

“Damnit, Fives!” you gasped, swatting his arm away and stuffing your face with a handful of fries in an attempt to soothe the warm sting that lingered. Once you’d recovered, he met your gaze with the most disproportionately irresistible puppy dog eyes you had yet encountered, begging your forgiveness with a soft voice.

You’d relented then, settling to intersperse your drink with sips from a large water glass, and you also resigned that half of your fries would be sacrificed for the sake of his company. But you found yourself enjoying it, and the two of you became lost in conversation. Somehow, one topic led to another, followed by a second order of fries, two more drinks, and a third order of fries. You’d been regaling each other with tales, insights into your pasts, and mundane thoughts about the state of the galaxy for so long that you’d completely lost track of time until one of the bar employees appeared at your table to inform you that they were closing. Your mouth dropped, and you checked your own chrono in disbelief before looking up at him with equal shock. He grinned and shrugged, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“But your sweet piece of booty for the evening!” you said in mock concern, watching his eyebrows chase each other across his forehead for a second before he regained his composure.

“Bah,” he dismissed, “They’ve earned a night off. Gotta rebuild their stamina, you know… for--” his words were cut off by a smack on the arm from you, and he followed you down the stairs with his cheeks curved into that eternal smile.

* * *

You couldn’t count the number of times you’d seen Fives hitting on someone in the weeks since he’d danced and chatted with you, and you reminded yourself each time that he was one type and you were another. You’d even convinced the boyfriend to come with you once or twice, although he felt completely out of his element surrounded by clones and had clammed up so much that you’d opted for other date locations with him after that. The Playboy of the Bar, however, continued his relentless crusade, and your occasional visits with friends always included a glimpse of him leaning dramatically on an elbow in front of someone or trying to allure them into his arms on the dance floor.

Your friend from the very first visit had insisted that you come out with her on one very specific night, swearing up and down that it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it coincided with the quarterly review at your job, where the recipients of the next rounds of promotion would be announced. You’d tried unsuccessfully to contain your excitement about the prospect, but it seemed like a no-brainer -- you’d been performing above your pay grade for a while now, and there weren’t really any others in the running. You’d treated yourself to a new haircut, adding some choppy layers, and bought a sassy new outfit that made you feel like a million bucks. The day arrived, and despite your repeated and thinly-veiled reminders to your boyfriend about how much you were looking forward to it, he chose that day, of all days, to break up with you.

It had come out of nowhere, and you’d done your best to maintain your composure, but the feeling of having your legs cut out from beneath you was distractingly nauseating all day. To add insult to injury, the promotions were delivered, and you had not received one. Instead, the undeniably busty new hire had somehow gotten it in your place. The day couldn’t have been worse, and you called your friend to tell her that there was no way you were going out that night, even if the Supreme Chancellor himself had asked.

You started the water for a hot bath, gathering your smuttiest holonovel and a horde of snacks that could have provided lunch to the entire cadet academy, when you were struck by a sudden hesitation, followed by the most compelling “fuck-it-all” attitude you’d ever been hit by. The water was switched off, and you dug your new outfit out of the corner where you’d thrown it in a fit of tears, taking time to make yourself up until you felt like you could conquer the world. A few shots of liquid courage from your kitchen cupboard gave you a pleasantly warm, rummy sensation, and you called your friend back to inform her that the party was back on.

She was thrilled as ever to see you, chorusing a litany of “girl boss” encouragement that made you want to barf as you walked into 79s, but you accepted her well-meaning accolades in a haze of determination to lose yourself in whatever that night would hold. As you clapped the bottom of the shot glass onto the bar next to her, downing it in one brave swallow, you caught sight of Fives across the room, working his usual magic.

“Tear it up, sis,” your friend yelled over the music, and you ordered another shot, swallowing it just as quickly, before heading out to lose yourself on the dance floor. Being significantly inebriated brought a whole new level to your clubbing experience though, and everything seemed to “make sense”. You no longer shook off the random clones who would come up to dance on you, instead writhing your body in total abandon, enjoying the way the music seemed to match everything perfectly, carrying you along in the rhythmic sensation of your body grinding against another. One of them started getting particularly handsy, and you took that as your cue to take a break, tottering to a stool at the counter and sliding onto it with the infinite amount of concentration it required to avoid toppling off the other side.

“Hey… you… alright?” came a familiar voice, and you looked up to see Fives bending over you with an uncharacteristic look of concern on his face. But you weren’t in a state to read the room quite so well anymore, and hollered a response immediately.

“Ohhhh fuckoff, Fives!” you shouted, not even sure why on earth you would say such a thing, but everything just felt so damn funny, and consequences weren’t something that existed in your brain at that moment. You missed the undeniable flash of hurt that crossed his face before he gave you a feeble salute and disappeared into the crowd again. As you ordered something ridiculously sweet and fruity, you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned to face a pair of clones that were both grinning at you in such an idiotic way you found it endearing.

“You look like a smart lady…,” one of them began.

“WRONG,” you yelled, dissolving into laughter at your own utterance.

“Okay, well…” he continued, clearly thrown off but still amused. “People seem to have a lot of trouble telling us apart,” he gestured to his brother and himself, “And we were trying to see what it is exactly that makes us different from one another. We were thinking you might volunteer your services to see if it’s how we kiss, because that seems like the only remaining possibility.”

Your friend joined you then, hand in hand with a clone who looked impressive in a gray dress uniform, and you welcomed her jovially as your drink arrived. “Look! These guys think I can’t tell em apart by the way they kiss,” you accused, sloshing your drink toward both of them. “Kriffin’ shinies,” you muttered, slumping to your feet, slamming your glass on the counter, and throwing yourself at the nearest one. His eyes flew wide open as your arms wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his, planting a sloppy kiss on his mouth. He settled into it quite quickly though, bringing his own hands to your waist and leaning into you to slide his tongue along your lips. You were quite enjoying it, but a sudden awareness of the copious amount of spit all over your face made you pull away with a loud smack as your lips parted.

“Too messy!” you declared, thrusting a finger into the air as though you’d discovered the theory of relativity, then just as quickly, before his poor partner could react, you flung yourself at him, scooping him into your arms and crashing your lips against his. He tasted like alcohol and salty food, and the jury was out on whether that was a good thing or not as you began to kiss him more and more passionately, hands roving around his chest and one digging into his hair, leaving him a tousled mess when you were all of a sudden tugged away by a firm hand on your upper arm. “Heyyyy!” you whined, wiping your mouth with your sleeve as you turned to see the stern face of Fives, honey brown eyes blazing. Or was it the lights?

“Come on,” he said, pulling you away from the somewhat shellshocked pair of shinies as he leaned over to talk to your friend for a moment.

“Oh yeah?” you laughed, blowing them a kiss goodbye, “Are we finally gonna do it? Am I your little treat for the evening?” You addressed your words to him, slumping against him to slide a heavy hand up the side of his face, ending with a little trace of the number on his temple. “I kriffing love this,” you murmured, bringing your face toward his suddenly. But he dodged your advance and instead scooped you into his arms, nodding to your friend as she finished speaking and turning to head toward the door. His armor was hard against your skin, jostling you and totally harshing your vibe as the cool night air hit your face. Your memory from that point onward was spotty, with only flashes of things that may or may not have happened, as far as you were aware.

Holy kriff, Fives, you’re a creep! How do you know where I live?

hahahaha I’d totally sleep with you but I don’t want to catch any diseases, you know?

OHMYGOSH how did you get inside my door?!

Sweet baby Hutt-spawn, this bed is the kriffing BEST. Come here, you gotta try this.

Ohhhh, taking me to bed eh? kinkyyyy... hey what’s the trash can for?

* * *

You woke up beneath a pile of pillows, gasping for air as you emerged, body slick with sweat. You’d apparently decided to pull on every maker-forsaken blanket you owned throughout the night, and you hauled yourself to your feet to escape the Mustafarian lava pit you’d created. But the sudden motion was far from welcome, and you reeled in disgust, feeling waves of hunger and nausea wash over you simultaneously. There was a gnawing hole in your stomach, and yet the thought of eating anything was positively repulsive, so you moved toward the refresher, kicking a wastebasket that had been placed next to your bed. The loud noise and unexpected obstacle caused you to yelp, and as the plastic trash can went flying across the room, another figure sprang up out of nowhere in equal surprise.

The deafening sound that filled the room was definitely not human, and it certainly didn’t come from you, as you reacted in a jolt of fear and flailing backward onto your bed. But the figure on the floor reacted just as much to the noise, pressing his hands over his ears and scrambling to his feet in alarm, and as you clapped your hand over your mouth, cutting it off, you realized it was indeed you who was squealing like a keeradak in labor. The silence that fell immediately after left you reeling, as you stared in utter shock at Fives, who was standing at the foot of your bed, clad head to toe in form-fitting black base layers, eyes wide as he held both hands up to you in an attempt to soothe.

“WHAT are you--” you began, but clamped your mouth shut when you felt a heave, going deathly still to avoid provoking the digestive dragons any further. Fives was rubbing his face, which was adorably soft from sleep, and he looked back up to you, wincing at the obvious stiffness he felt as he moved.

“You were a mess last night,” he began, precariously taking a seat at the very edge of your mattress. “I brought you home -- your friend told me where you guys lived,” he interjected in response to the question brimming on your lips. “But I didn’t know she didn’t have a bedroom… Once I got you settled, I went to leave, but she was… busy… on the couch out there… So I waited. And waited. And I guess I fell asleep.”

“On the floor?!” you asked in disbelief, feeling even more horrible now.

“Yeah. I gotta go see who that is out there. Trooper deserves a kriffing medal for that kind of stamina…”

“I am so sorry,” you breathed again, chuckling at his words but stuffing down any further mirth as it made your stomach lurch. “You didn’t have to--”

“What happened?” he asked, looking at you with sudden intensity. “I’ve never seen you like that…” You filled him in on The Day From Hell and its role in leading to The Night of Bad Decisions, appreciating the appropriate expressions of sympathy that shaped his handsome face. When you finished, you insisted that he let you take him to breakfast -- to do your part in lifting the morale of the poor boys of the GAR. His sleepy smirk made your heart do a flip, as did the way he held the door open for you as the two of you tottered into a local diner. You’d assured him repeatedly that their “kitchen sink omelet” was a tried-and-true hangover cure, and as two heaping plates were slid onto the table in front of you, his eyes widened at the sheer amount of gravy that covered whatever else was lurking beneath it.

“So uhh,” he began suddenly, after you’d been idly chatting about nothing throughout the slow process of consuming the greasiest breakfast in the galaxy, “How long have you wanted me so badly?” You snorted, bringing your caf mug back under your mouth for fear of the sip you’d just taken exploding right back out again.

“What?!”

He twirled his fork over his plate with a jaunty air of smugness as you gawked at him across the table. “You might have been grinding on anything with legs and kissing random shinies last night,” he purred, causing you to grimace at the thought, “but you weren’t mincing your words when it came to trying to get me in your bed.” He waggled a brow at you, a little glimmer illuminating the flecks of gold in his honey brown eyes, again causing that wave to course through your veins.

“Oh geez, Fives,” you exhaled, rubbing your forehead with one hand as you stabbed a piece of sausage with particular vehemence. “I get absolutely crazy when I drink too much. I’m sorry,” you apologized, shaking your head, “It’s like a different person.” You leaned down to scoop the bite into your mouth, sparing yourself the heartwrenching way his face fell at your words. But when you brought your gaze back up to his, covering your food-filled cheeks with a napkin, his sharp features were carefully arranged into nonchalance.

“Mmm,” he grunted knowingly, “Yeah…” He fell silent for a moment, pondering the potatoes on his plate as he pushed them side to side with his fork.

“I can’t believe that’s two nights you’ve wasted on me now though,” you said, offering a return to the lighthearted quips you two were so used to sharing. “I feel like I owe you some kind of… I don’t know. What kind of escapade have you not had in a while?” You chuckled breezily, although the thought of him like that twisted your stomach in an odd way. Or maybe it was the hangover.

“Ugh,” he said, pushing his plate away and lifting his brown eyes to yours with a disarming focus. “I’m a fraud,” he blurted out, shaking his head as he maintained your gaze. “It’s all a front. Jesse is out there climbing onto whatever or whomever strikes his fancy… And I’ve got this whole image… But it’s all a lie…” His admission ended with an eyeroll that led his eyes back down to his plate, hanging his head like a scolded child. You were reeling at the revelation, though, with countless emotions washing over you so quickly you couldn’t begin to identify any one of them.

“Why?” you asked finally, tilting your head in genuine confusion.

“I have no kriffing idea,” he answered, one cheek curving up into a half-smile as he looked back up to you. “I haven’t even kissed anyone,” he muttered with a shrug. You felt as though your illusion of him had been shattered, and the unguarded, honest, adorable man in front of you was so different than the swaggering fast-talker you’d grown accustomed to. A small part of you gloated loudly in the back of your mind -- I told you so -- confirming your initial suspicions that there was more depth to him after all. Your conversations had revealed as much too; he was wildly intelligent and creative, with razor-sharp critical thinking skills and more philosophical reflection on life than you’d ever have expected.

Your own smile grew larger, and you reached a hand across the table to place it gingerly over his fist, causing his eyes to jerk back up to yours again. That goatee did make him look more distinguished after all, you decided, as you brushed your thumb across his knuckles. You wanted to drop some kind of snarky joke or wise-sounding platitude, but there was a merciful peace between the two of you that suggested understanding without the necessity of further explanation. The arrival of the server droid with a fresh carafe of caf gave you both a distraction, and by the time the mugs were refilled and appropriately doctored up, the conversation was off and running about everything and nothing again.

When the two of you emerged into the harsh Coruscant sunlight on the sidewalk outside the diner, stretching and groaning your simultaneous satisfaction and over-stuffed-ness, it felt as though you had taken some kind of new step together, entered some foreign territory of closeness. You rather liked it, you decided, as you turned to walk toward the train stop. But he caught your hand, surprising you as he pulled you back to face him.

“Hey, um…” he began sheepishly, shifting on his feet but maintaining a steady gaze in your eyes that made your knees feel weak. You prickled with anticipation, instantly feeling as though something were about to happen, and very much wanting it to. “Can I try something?” he asked, rushing onward in response to your puzzled expression, “Close your eyes…”

You gave him a suspicious squint, heart skipping a beat at the small burst of joy that it painted across his face, and then closed your eyes, standing stock-still on the outside but coursing with adrenaline and eagerness within. You could feel him getting closer, whether it was some kind of external proprioception or your own wishful thinking, and the hope was confirmed when you could feel the warmth of his face right in front of yours, blocking out the sunlight and filling your nose with the scents of caf, gravy, soap, and something spicy and musky. Parting your lips slightly, it took all your willpower to keep your eyes closed and stay still, but your patience was rewarded a split second later.

Warm hands grazed your cheeks, settling around your face in a deliberate yet gentle hold, and the faint sound of his quiet exhale sent another thrill through you. And then his lips met yours, unfathomably soft and painstakingly tender. Your arms snaked around him immediately, hearing his sharp inhale of excitement in response. He didn’t move except to gently press his mouth a bit more, fitting his face against your own as his nose smushed into your cheek. The tingles reverberating through every inch of your body were intoxicating, and you never wanted it to end, as you leaned your body into his. And then he retreated, slowly and gingerly, as though any quick motion would shatter the impeccable beauty of the fleeting moment. His lips pulled away with a quiet smack that lit fireworks of joy in your soul.

Your eyes flew open, and the sight that met them was one you wanted to commit to memory forever -- his blissful face, eyes still closed, lips curved in a soft smile. He lingered there for a split second before lightly resting his forehead against yours and lighting up the day with his amber eyes that fluttered open to find yours with undeniable warmth. You were blown away by the unfathomable delight of kissing him for not only the first time, but his first time. You wracked your brain for something… anything… to say, but there was nothing that could fully capture the thrill and ecstasy. So instead you grinned at him like an idiot, basking in the glory of his soulful gaze and adoring smile.

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