#oh shiny archive

[soracities]

absolutely enraptured rn

#articles #essays #oh shiny archive #natgeo #m #x

[writingjourney]

a message from the bulletin board | cardinal copia x gn!reader

summary: the ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad.

content: 9k words, gn!reader, slightly suggestive at times, first date/first kiss shenanigans, sad lonely awkward cardinal fluff, you know the drill

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You ignore the knot of people in front of the bulletin board.

As much as the whispers and giggles garner your attention, someone else attracts it even more. Cardinal Copia, red cassock, red biretta, arms filled with two boxes worth of files and papers, is trying to push the door to his office open with his hip under a swell of Italian curses. Certainly, his hip swing is impressive on most days, especially on stage, but today it seems more like a helpless, uncoordinated bumping that the door is fighting with every ounce of its wooden strength.

Evidently, he’s struggling.

“Good morning, Cardinal, do you need a hand?”

His eyebrows shoot up when he hears your voice and he stops dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head until he catches you standing right behind him. Despite your announcement, he visibly startles, nearly dropping the boxes in his arms.

“Oh, eh… yes, if you could open the door for me, Sibling?”

“Of course.”

With your hand on the knob, you watch as he hurries inside of his office, wheezing under the weight and dropping the boxes onto his desk with a dull thud that echoes loudly in his mostly bare working space. Apart from books upon books strewn across and around his desk as well as an old weathered couch, there hasn’t been any love put into decorating the space. You wait patiently for him to turn back around to you, a hint of red dusting his cheeks when he finally does.

“Thank you,” he squeezes out, trying very hard to swallow his heavy exhales. “I carried them here all the way from the archives. Long way, you know, even for my…” He holds up his arm, flexing it exaggeratedly. “My strong, powerful muscles.”

You giggle and he perks up in delight, eyes wide and shiny. “No problem, Cardinal, I can imagine they’re very heavy.” 

You smile at him and he smiles back, so sweetly, and you’re momentarily at an equal loss for words. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, down the prominent bridge of his nose. He brushes it away with a leather-gloved hand and you can’t help but stare as he wipes it clean on the heavy fabric of his vestments, shaking out his fingers once he��s done. You can’t look away as they flex and release, flex and release. They’re surprisingly long and so… nimble.

Copia’s violent cough startles you awake and you’re not sure if it’s his own nerves that make him clear his throat, if his overexerted lungs are protesting or if he caught you staring. Either way, you feel your own cheeks getting hot now, the moment of hesitant silence slowly transitioning into a gooey sort of awkwardness.

“So, ugh… I better get back to my own duties,” you say. “Lots to do, spring cleaning and all that.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, you are busy, of course. Such a busy little bee. Bzz bzz. Hehe.”

You awkwardly giggle back, trying hard to think of a clever joke. Maybe something that has to do with stinging? But before you can settle on one, the time for a witty come-back has stretched thin and so you just awkwardly wave at him, mutter a “see you later” and close the door.

With your back pressed to the wood, you let out a deep exhale, the butterflies – or bees – in your stomach making it very hard to breathe at a normal pace. Once you’ve recollected your wits, you notice that the hallway is still as busy as before, maybe even busier.

Like lions gathering around an animal carcass after days of starvation, what feels like half the abbey has been flocking to the big rectangular corkboard. You cannot possibly imagine what would warrant such intense interest. The most exciting messages on any given day are unusual sex requests, the invitation to a weirdly themed party or a call for applications to a particularly intricate sex ritual to honour the Dark One.

You push through the crowd to check what’s causing the repeated giggling and excited whispers amongst your peers when you spot a pristine piece of paper on the board. It’s thick, stark-white, shaped like a heart at the top and with pieces to rip off at the bottom that contain a phone number. You squint, move in even closer until you can make out the text – hand-written and in cursive.

I (m, 50) am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have any preferences but it would be coolio if we had similar interests, so we can have some fun together.

I like: watching movies, playing video games, going on walks, rigatoni, juice, small animals

I don’t like: coconut flavour, being barefoot, swimming, touching wet dishes, bullies, dentist appointments

If you think we are a good match I would like to take you on a romantic date. Please call or text me.  Bye bye!

You smile at the note but quickly find back down to earth when someone rams their elbow into your side. No one has taken one of the numbers yet, so you assume the excitement is more about the fact that there is a lonely hearts ad on the bulletin board at all than any actual interest in the person. You have to admit, it is a bit odd. Most younger clergy members just use dating apps these days or social media. But the lonely heart in question is fifty, so they may not be familiar with modern methods, and it’s oddly endearing that anyone would go through the trouble of creating such an ad. At the same time, it breaks your heart that someone in the abbey is so lonely that they risk the ridicule of half of the clergy members just to have a chance at finding love.

“Well, there are a bunch of people who it could be,” you overhear someone say. “Maybe one of the older Brothers, a bunch of them are single. Could also be that new bishop who just arrived, I heard he’s a cinephile and walks around the gardens quite often.”

You ignore the whispers of speculation, making your way back through the crowd to return to your duties. It’s almost dinner time by now and you need to get two more loads of laundry done before then. But even as you sort through piles of habits, cassocks and veils… you can’t stop thinking about the ad. You sincerely hope the person receives a few serious and not just prank calls. The note did sound endearing and you definitely see similarities. At the same time you’re far too busy nursing your hopeless crush on the Cardinal to actually entertain the thought of dating someone else. 

You decide to check on the ad again tomorrow, see if anyone took a number, and if not, you could at least save it to your phone… just in case.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Two birds land on his window sill, rubbing their beaks together in a kiss before happily chirping at each other. They’re in love, literal love birds, building a nest on the little protrusion in the wall right below his window. He’s been watching them occasionally, unreasonably envious, as they bring in twig after twig, ready to start their family. From the same window, Copia can make out the spring-filled gardens with their colourful patches of pink and red tulips, bumblebees hurrying from blossom to blossom, drunk on pollen and greedy for more. He can overlook the bright green meadow leading down to the pond, speckled with lush, budding trees. At this time of the day, after everyone finished their daily duties, the grass has almost completely disappeared under a plethora of picnic blankets.

Spring fever, he assumes, has to be the reason why everyone seems to be in love. Couples dozing in each other’s arms in the shade of the trees, feeding their lovers berries or grapes, taking a stroll down to the pond with their joined hands dangling between them, kissing without pause in the archways of the cool stone walkways leading outside. Just now he spots two Sisters rubbing sunscreen on each other’s bare shoulders, one of them kissing the other's head before they fall back onto their blanket, giggling happily at each other.

He feels so incredibly lonely.

This has been going on for weeks now and he’s tired of feeling so shamefully worthless of affection. Instead of the arms of his lover, he sinks into his tattered old desk chair and drowns his sorrows in boring paperwork. Not that that’s going well, but for lack of alternatives, he’d rather do budget calculations than sit in his quarters all alone. Every evening, the spring breeze carries the sound of happy laughter through his windows, usually while he’s playing video games all by himself, but he can’t keep them closed if he doesn’t want to sweat to death. Besides… that same gentle breeze is the only thing caressing his skin as he tries to fall asleep at night and if he closes his eyes, the wind almost feels like fingertips ghosting over his arms.

As he leaves his office that night, he receives another heavy but sadly much expected blow. Almost a week now and still no one has taken one of the numbers from his lonely hearts ad. Of course it doesn’t mean no one saved it to his phone, he tells himself, people are shy or they just don’t want to date an anonymous person. It has nothing to do with him, they don’t even know it’s him. And yet… if his dating streak continues so poorly, he’s not sure if he can stay sane for much longer. There are only so many tears you can cry in bed at night before it starts to take a toll on you.

His heart is especially heavy as he makes his way to his lonely quarters. One more day and then he’s taking it down, he decides. No use in waiting any longer now that surely everyone in the abbey has seen his request and the last thing he wants are pity calls.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

“So, are you going to call the Cardinal?”

You look up from your breakfast plate. Your friend Lily is sitting opposite of you, chewing on a blueberry muffin, and you narrow your eyes at her. “The Cardinal?”

“The number in the lonely hearts ad,” she says. “It’s still there, I checked earlier.”

“It’s the Cardinal?”

She nods, popping another piece of muffin into her mouth. “Duh.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and set your fork down to hide the sudden tremor in your fingers. “Which Cardinal?”

She gives a soft groan of annoyance. “Babe, there is only one of the Cardinals who would ever hang up such a goofy thing. Now, will you call him?”

Copia. She knows about your… slight infatuation with him. And despite being kind and not teasing you too much, it was just a matter of time until the occasion popped up. If he is looking for a serious partner… maybe it’s too late for you soon. The ad has been up for days and while you’ve been toying with the idea of calling, you just haven’t found the courage yet.

You continue eating, trying to act casual, but it takes you three attempts to pick up a stray piece of cucumber from your plate. “How do you even know it’s his number?”

Lily takes a deep breath, setting the muffin down to ready herself. “Sooo, Michael wanted to call the number to check who it is, right? Well, turns out his girlfriend already knew it’s the Cardinal’s number and his girlfriend is Sister Jill who knows it from Sister Mary who is roommates with Sibling Jessie who works with the treasury and their colleague Brother Paul works as the Cardinal’s assistant two times a week and that’s how he has the Cardinal’s number for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, will you?”

Eyes on your empty plate, you bite your lip until you can taste blood. It’s Copia’s number, the number of your crush of about six months now, and he’s looking for a partner, unspecified. That’s… big news, intimidating news, news that calls to an action you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

Glancing at Lily, you catch her smirking at you and promptly give her a scowl. “I don’t know. What if he already got better options?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Better than you? I doubt it.”

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.”

A shrug. “You should try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could be disappointed.”

“He’s more disappointed if no one calls,” she counters.

“Yeah but–”

You stop yourself when you see Nora, Lily’s girlfriend, approaching the table. Her arms wrap around Lily from behind as she presses a loud, lingering kiss to her cheek, both of them giggling.

“You scared me,” Lily says, turning around for a proper kiss.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t leave breakfast without my sweet treat.”

You avert your gaze, involuntarily feeling like an intruder. They’ve been together for a few weeks now, sickeningly adorable. Lily had been pining after Nora for months, a little bit like you with the Cardinal, only that she eventually found the courage to ask her out. To see her bravery being rewarded like that makes you incredibly happy for both of them. But at the same time… you have rarely ever felt your loneliness so sharply, the heaviness of your unreciprocated crush such a weight on your shoulders.

You know that if you want this to be you and the Cardinal, then there’s only one real answer to her question: You have to reach out to him.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

He’s ready to toss this day into the trash bin already and he only just got up. 

Last night, after tossing and turning for hours, Copia fell asleep only to promptly land in a hysterically embarrassing dream that made him jolt up whimpering like a kicked dog and hiding his face in the pillow. Bringing himself close to suffocation, he finally realised that he had not actually stumbled right in front of you, spilling juice all over his robes, scrambling to get up only to slip in the puddle by his feet, falling onto his butt with a high-pitched cry. You had been standing there motionless, watching the spectacle unfold until you turned around to leave.

This is the reaction he would expect, should he ever actually find the courage to ask you out. However, this is highly doubtful, because upon walking to his office half an hour later, he catches you with a group of friends. He often sees you with them – attractive young Siblings, evident chemistry between all of you, and every week he suspects a different one to be in love with you. He recognizes the two Sisters he saw from his window earlier this week. One of them presses a loving kiss to the other’s cheek and he wishes he could just walk up to you and do the same.

His heart hurts. No matter how much kindness you extend to him, you’re a beautiful young soul who could never be romantically interested in an aging loner. Copia is not disliked per se, he gets along with pretty much everyone, but he struggles to build meaningful connections. Between working his butt off to satisfy the clergy and spending time on his mostly solitary hobbies, it’s hard to meet people. He had to actively put himself out there but neither online dating nor any of the singles’ events Terzo sent him on brought any results – only what the young Siblings call getting “ghosted” or “benched”.

His ad is his last chance. And even that failed miserably.

As he ponders his options, your eyes suddenly meet his and he swears you’re smiling. Then you lift your hand in a cautious wave. For a second, he’s too scared to wave back because there are people around him, all of which could be your target. Your hand sinks after a moment as your smile slowly straightens and he suddenly knows that you do mean him. He lifts his hand far too excitedly in a reciprocative wave. Your smile returns, a shy one, but before he can even think about possibly approaching you, his knees suddenly give out.

No, they don’t give out, someone rams a trolly filled with supplies for Black Mass into him. Some of the tall candles roll off the top and clatter to the floor, breaking in half just like his dignity. 

“Oops, sorry, Cardinal,” the Sibling says, scrambling to help him up. “It’s so hard to steer this thing.”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, the pain in his knees anything but fine. “It happens.”

“I’m truly so sorry.”

He smiles, a hand on their shoulder now that he’s on his feet again. “It is okay, eh? No worries.”

When his eyes try to find you again, you’re not there anymore and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or sad. He prays to Satan that you didn’t see him fall but there is no way you missed it. His dream, if slightly watered-down, did come true after all and perhaps now you won’t want to–

“Cardinal, are you alright?” 

Copia, still dizzy and skittish, spins around so hard he nearly stumbles again. He smooths out his now crumpled cassock, the dust he collected on the floor even more visible on today’s black vestments. In an attempt to retain his dignity, he straightens his spine and looks right into your beautiful eyes. You have a tendency to startle him like that and he wishes he could be more smooth about these encounters.

“Yes, yes, Sibling, thank you. It was… it was nothing, just a little stumble, eh?”

“Are you sure?” You inspect him from head to toe, your brow creased in concern. “It looked painful. Your knees…”

“Oh, my knees are fine!” he lies. “I kneel all the time, Sibling. You know this.” Your eyes widen and he continues to stammer. “I mean in prayer. I pray a lot. On my knees. I am a Cardinal, yes? It’s my job.”

 You nod heavily. “Yes, of course.”

“So, ugh… I better just fuck off.” He presses his lips together to keep more silly words from coming out. “I mean I’ll go back to work. ”

As he tries to leave, your hand shoots up, squeezing the muscles in his forearm. He’s not as much startled as enthralled by your touch, so unexpected that he has no time to feel insecure but so welcome that it almost feels natural to have your fingers on his arm. He swears there is a hint of nervousness in your eyes now and despite knowing it’s silly, his heart wants to interpret it as bashfulness.

“Cardinal, please. I… ugh…” 

You look beautiful from up close. Even if you weren’t stuttering he’d have a hard time listening to your words. It seems like you stopped breathing, your cheeks now a sweet shade of rosy, and you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Eventually, you shake your head and run your fingers over the fabric of his sleeve. He thinks he’s about to pass out, his nerves rising until he can feel his heartbeat all the way up to his neck. Your hand is so gentle, so… affectionate.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I don’t mean to keep you. I was just thinking that I really like the black cassock. It suits you.”

A compliment. His mind is racing. This is not what you really wanted to say, he can tell, but he grins anyway. You like his cassock? Well, you should wait until you see him in a suit. Maybe on a date. He should ask, he realises. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months now. But as he continues to stare at you his tongue becomes too heavy to form the words, and then your hand is suddenly gone and takes his courage right with it.

“Thank you, Sibling,” he says instead. “I also really like your ugh… your outfit.”

Only when the words leave his mouth does he realise it’s the same everyday habit you’re wearing all the time. Somehow, the silly compliment still manages to conjure a smile onto your face and so he stops berating himself because he made you smile. The sight stuns him, butterflies erupting in his already nervous stomach.

“I’ll see you later, Cardinal,” you say then, your eyes leaving his to glance down the hallway where your friends are waiting, beckoning for you to hurry.

Copia nods and he looks down at your hand in silent fascination, staring at your fingers that are dangling by your thigh without any use as if he could magically make them touch his arm again. “Yes, yes. See you,” he mumbles. “Bye bye.”

When he looks back up, you’re already hurrying off. Copia stays frozen, his gaze trailing after you as though his eyes are glued to your form. Even when you’re out of sight it takes him a while to start moving, to start breathing again.

Around him, the hallway slowly empties as everyone starts to tend to their respective duties. Copia can’t help but feel the nagging disappointment about not asking you out. A chance like this won’t suddenly appear again and even if you refused him it would still be less humiliating than the untouched ad at the bulletin board. He should take it off right now, he figures.

Only when he enters the hallway leading to his office, something looks off about the postings. He notices the change from the corner of his eye at first as he walks past the large corkboard. More party flyers have appeared, someone took down the “diamond butt plug set missing” request that had been hanging there since an orgy in the Siblings’ wing went wrong last month. Instead, Copia notices a large poster promoting condom usage that partly covers the request underneath. Which is how he recognises it.

His ad. 

And one of the numbers is missing.

Copia nearly lets out a loud squeal as realisation dawns on him like the gentle spring sun rising over the hills every morning, bringing warmth and happiness after a cold, dark night. It seems like Cupid finally answered his prayers, like Aphrodite found sweet mercy for him.

Someone took his number. Someone wants to reach out to him.

For the rest of the day, he feels like he swallowed a swarm of bees, staring at his phone like it’s going to light up any second. Which it could. He could receive the message or call that changes his life any second now. Any second. Any… any second.

Nothing happens. Not in the next hour, not in the next two hours. All day, in fact, his phone stays quiet. His initial happiness deflates like a balloon. As he heads towards his quarters that evening, he observes how everyone piles into the dining hall, their happy laughter and cheerful spirits spoiling his usually solid appetite. He hates the sour feeling of envy in his stomach but he can’t help but suspect that everyone conspired against him.

Copia decides to skip dinner in order to cry into a big bowl of gelato. His nightmare might not have come true but his brain tortures him with pictures of your smiling face instead, with the phantom feeling of your warm hand lingering on his arm, and he can’t help but feel crushed anyway. He’d sell his soul to come home to you, to eat with you, sit with you, watch silly movies with you, fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up with your smile as the first thing he gets to see every day. It becomes increasingly clear to him that every day he misses out on being with you is a day tragically lost.

If only he was brave enough to change that.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

You’ve been pacing your bedroom for the better part of the evening now, back and forth and back and forth to the point where you’re seriously concerned about wearing down your carpet. The day passed uneventfully apart from your encounter with Copia in the hallway where you made a complete fool of yourself. You would have loved to skip all of the unnecessary fuss of texting back and forth but you barely spoke more than two words to him before you chickened out. Surely, if his interest in you was romantic, he could just ask you out instead of advertising himself on a public corkboard?

In any case, you’ve been typing out messages for over an hour now, deleting every single one of them only to throw your phone onto the bed multiple times before picking it back up to risk another attempt.

The reason you haven’t given up yet is that Lily knows you have his number now. Last night, when you thought everyone was asleep, you snuck out of your dorm feeling like James Bond with your torch and black clothing, tiptoeing down the empty corridors of the abbey. You didn’t want anyone spreading any premature rumors but a part of you was hesitant to take one of the numbers at all. Even if you called him, it wasn’t certain that he’d want to go on a date with you.

Still, you ripped off one of the thumb-sized pieces of paper and headed back – only to promptly run into Lily as she snuck out to meet Nora. You’re never going to forget her self-satisfied grin as she spotted you with the crumpled number between your fingers.

Begging your creative juices to start flowing, you stare at the empty message box. Perhaps you should be funny. You wonder if he knows the Piña Colada song. It is about a lonely hearts ad after all and he’s a musician. You type and type, delete and retype until you end on a rough draft to show Lily when she gets home. But no, upon rethinking, the joke is too silly even for you and there’s probably a better way to phrase this–

“Hey, have you called him yet?”

You jump, your heart rate doubling in shock. Lily appears in the open doorway and her voice startles you so fiercely that you clutch your phone to your chest. To your utter horror, the swishing sound of a sent message reaches your ear as your palm connects with the touchscreen, and when you glance down, the bubble with your typed out message sits at the top of your chat history.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I sent my stupid silly joke message to him.”

Lily picks your phone from your hands, reading the solitary message from the display. “Well, at least now you’ll know if he shares your weird sense of humour?”

You grasp her shoulder and release a deep, throaty groan. Her words don’t calm you in the slightest, if anything, they only make it worse.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Driving Miss Daisy can’t distract him anymore.

Every two minutes Copia reaches for his phone to check for any missed texts or calls only to have the gapingly empty home screen staring back at him. He never figured out how to change the pre-set wallpaper. Perhaps he could try again when he has a cute couple picture of him and his future partner. The thought makes him smile. It’s one of many little things he would change – if they only called.

Despite putting it on vibrate, he doesn’t trust the device to inform him of any news. He even carried it to the toilet twice already, just in case something happens while he’s gone. His ice cream doesn’t satisfy him tonight, everything feels bland and devoid of flavour, but he refills his bowl anyway. One big spoon and a bit of spray cream… and as he walks back over to his bed, he realises that he should definitely check his phone again because this took way longer than two minutes.

Right as he pulls the device out his pocket, it vibrates violently in his hand. For a moment he is so shocked to see a message pop up that he throws it away. It lands on his bed, bouncing a few times, display still lit up with one new notification glaring at him from the centre of his screen.

He takes a deep breath. This is real. He got a message.

No, he can’t look at it, he’s going to lose his nerves. A few more deep inhales and slow exhales, then he can’t fight the suspension any longer. 

Hey, stranger :) You don’t like coconut, so you probably don’t like Piña Coladas, but maybe I’m still the love that you look for?  I would love to go on a date with you, if you are still looking for one. 

It takes him a second, then another one. The ice cream melts in his bowl as it sits forgotten on the floor next to his bed. Suddenly it clicks and he chuckles, in relief as well as amusement, thinking that he knows that song, that he gets the reference. That means this person is funny. They made a joke. He smiles to himself. A funny person wants to go on a date with him.

He types back, deleting, typing again. After five minutes, he comes up with a reply.

Hello, stranger! 👋🏼 I do not like Piña Coladas 🍹 but I have many better things to offer if you want to go on a picnic 🧺 with me tomorrow? I will bring food 🥪 and drinks 🧃 of course. Hopefully we do not get caught in the rain 💦😀

He thinks about how he could sign the message but then his nerves start to kick in. If he tells the person who he is, they may reconsider their choice to go out with him and that’s the last thing he wants. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he wants to try his best, so he shoots another message after the first: 

Oh. It will be a blind date, if that is okay with you?

The next minute is the longest of his life. An eternity passes. He thinks he might have stopped breathing with how tight his chest feels. That is, until his phone lights up and shows the same number again, wringing a deep sigh of relief from him.

That’s fine with me. Where do we meet?

The squeal he lets out vibrates in his chest and bounces off the walls.

He’s got a date. Finally.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Copia hears his bad conscience somewhere in the back of his mind whispering that blocking the best spot in the gardens all day is selfish. Perhaps it is true, perhaps he feels a little selfish today. And yes, besides feeling selfish he also feels a little guilty. Is it fair to go on a date when he has such a horrible crush on someone else? No. No, it’s not fair. But he can’t let another chance at love run through his fingers like sand on the beach. He simply has to grasp this opportunity.

His red-checked blanket lays untouched underneath the tall chestnut tree, its big, hand-shaped leaves rustling in the soft breeze as he approaches. The head of a rat is stitched into all four corners  of the fabric – a gift from Sister for his latest birthday – and it’s been sitting here since nine o’clock when he took the liberty of… reserving… the spot. He picked the north-side of the tree so that the shade falls exactly where he’s going to be sitting with his date in approximately fifteen minutes. If they prefer the sun, he can just pull the blanket over a little, but he’d never forgive himself if they got sunburn because of him.

Copia took the day off, his first day off all year in fact, risking his next employee of the month award to spend all morning in town, running errands. With the end of May and strawberry season starting, he visited every grocery store within walking distance to find the ripest, juiciest ones they offered. He was lucky enough to obtain a small basket filled with the most delicious-looking red fruits and some additional fresh ingredients for his sandwiches. While he was quick-witted enough to ask about his date’s allergies yesterday, he completely forgot to ask them about their favorite snacks and so he’s decided to just bring anything he could think of that wouldn’t melt in the sun.

The basket he packed feels heavy in his hand for that exact reason and when he sets it down on the blanket, he can feel the strain in his arm. The past hour was spent obsessing over his outfit until he decided to just go for the white suit combo. Yes, white fabric near grass and juicy red fruits is not the most brilliant idea, but he wants to look his best and that means going the extra mile, even if he has to wear the tiny, itchy underwear underneath.

His heartbeat is going a mile a minute now. He can’t unpack yet, he doesn’t want the food to be out for too long, and so he sits and waits, his hands sweaty under his black and white leather gloves. The fact that the gardens around him slowly become crowded as the afternoon rolls around does nothing for his nerves. He can feel the curious glances, can hear the hushed whispers, and as the hour nears, he starts sweating even more despite the shade. If the unanswered ad had been embarrassing, being stood up so publicly would be even worse. 

And then the most horrifying thing ever happens.

Copia sees you walking along the path, wearing a weather-appropriate, slightly dressed-up outfit that makes his eyes involuntarily roam your whole form. But he can’t fully focus on your loveliness. At first, he’s panicking that you’re meeting your friends somewhere close by where you could see him with his date. He would be so embarrassed, so distracted, so uncomfortable. But you walk straight towards him and that’s even worse. If he has to tell you that he’s busy meeting someone else he might spontaneously combust, explode into tiny particles of humiliation. It would ruin everything, his date and his crush on you. What if his date shows up and sees you with him? What if–

Oh no, you don’t stop approaching, you don’t take a turn, you walk up straight to where he’s waiting – with a hint of hesitation, yes, but very directed steps. Copia jumps up immediately, his black hat nearly falling from his head.

“Oh, Sibling,” he stammers, lifting a trembling hand to adjust his fedora. “Hello, hi. Are you spending some time outside today as well?”

Your mouth opens and you wring your hands before hiding them behind your back. “Hello, Cardinal. I ugh… I’m supposed to meet someone here under the chestnut tree.”

Copia furrows his brow, slowly registering your words. “Meet someone. Under the chestnut tree.” 

“Yes.”

“Oh, Satan. It’s you?” He stops, stares, comprehends. He sounds incredulous, his voice a higher pitch than usual. “You’re my stranger?”

You nod, big eyes staring into his mismatched ones in silent expectation, hope and fear muddled together in the crease of your brow. He doesn’t know how to react, just rubs his thumb and index finger together as his mind races faster than speed limit.

“Is this… is this bad?” you finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“No!” Copia exclaims. “No, no, no. Please, please sit.”

You do, kneeling down on the blanket a little hesitantly. Copia joins you, still not fully trusting his senses. This feels like a hallucination. His disbelief has to be the only reason he hasn’t passed out yet. Is he really on a date with you right now?

After another moment of silence, Copia notices you eyeing the basket and snaps back into reality. His plans, his very detailed plans for how this date is supposed to go, flood his mind and he remembers the first step now. Swallowing his shock, he sits up a little straighter.

“Ah, eh… yes, I got you something.” He reaches behind the basket and procures three deep red roses he stole from Primo’s rose garden on the way here. Their intense smell hits his nose as he whips them past his face and hands them over. “These are for you. I hope you like roses. I know it is a bit cliché but also a classic, no?”

“I love them,” you assure him, holding them up to your nose with a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “Good, good. Yes. So… I thought about what we could do and–”

“Cardinal,” you interrupt then. 

“Oh, no. No, call me Copia. Please.” He gives you a shaky smile. “We’re on a date, no?”

“Copia,” you try but feeling his name on your tongue doesn’t make you feel any better. Ever since getting here your bad conscience made it hard to fully settle into this date and with his visible distress upon discovering it’s you, you feel like now is the time to address it. “Before… before we do this, I have a confession to make…” 

He hums and wriggles his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, I would love to see you in confession soon…”

You blush furiously. “Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant.”

A flash of concern and you can practically see all of his insecurities mirrored in his eyes. You’re both tiptoeing around the same question, you assume, but it’s on you to take the plunge.

“What… what do you mean then?” he asks.

“About this date…” His lightheartedness completely disappears. You feel bad for ruining the mood but it’s too late now and you need to get it out, you owe him that much. “Copia… It wasn’t a blind date on my part. I… I knew it was you.”

“You knew it was me?” he asks and again his features change, eyes wide now. He really had no idea that people knew the ad was his and suddenly he feels like a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been honest from the start.” You stare at his gloved hand but you’re too scared to take it. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.”

“You knew it was me and you still… you still wrote to me? You still came?”

You furrow your brow. “I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit that it’s me and I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t want to go anymore.”

“Me? Not… not…” He shakes his head so fast that his fedora once again threatens to fly off. “Oh, tesoro, I would have… I would have been on the moon with joy, as they say. Yes, yes, I would have.”

You don’t correct him. Instead, an insecure smile settles on your face. “You know you don’t have to say that, Copia, it’s okay if you were hoping for someone else… That’s the risk of going on a blind date, right?”

He yanks your hand out of your lap, wrapping it up in both of his gloved ones. “Tesoro, can I be very honest with you?”

You nod. “Of course you can. Always.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

Your breath catches and steals your next words. The same incredulity that hit him earlier now settles in your chest and you can’t find it in you to question him.

Copia immediately fills the silence. “I never… I never thought…” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a nervous swallow, before he wets his lips. “Tesoro, you were always very good to me. I always saw your kindness, you understand this, yes? Don’t get me wrong, I just… I never thought you were interested in me like this. In such a silly old man.”

You have to giggle through your nerves. “I love that you’re a silly old man.”

He smiles shyly. “You are very sweet, tesoro.”

“I’ve actually had this crush for a few months now,” you admit, encouraged by his positive reaction. “And I want you to know that when I saw your ad I thought about calling even before I knew it was you.”

His smile grows impossibly bigger at that. “Did you?”

A nod. Copia squeezes your hand, then brings it to his face for a kiss. You feel his wet lips on your skin and they’re so soft, so gentle. When he sets your hand back down you see a trace of black lipstick on its back and instantly feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Should we start then?” he asks. “I brought a lot of things, let me show you.”

The basket opens to reveal a plethora of food and drink options. Copia sets down a foil-wrapped plate with sandwiches that look a little wonky so you assume he made them himself, then some juice boxes, apple and orange, a box of fresh, delicious-looking strawberries, two bottles of water, reusable plastic cups and plates. At last, he hands you one of many different muffins he must have stolen from the kitchens.

“For my dolcezza,” he says with a smile.

More heat spreads in your cheeks as you take the little treat from him with a thanks. You’re both visibly losing your nervousness now, your postures less cramped, stretching out your limbs on the blanket with your bodies angled towards each other.

“Maybe we should… talk a bit about us?” Copia proposes. “To get to know each other, sì? I would like to learn about you.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good. Do you want to start?”

He thinks on a good starter question, the pressure clouding his thoughts for a moment but then his silence grows thick and he has to say something. “So, ugh… do you like Star Wars?”

This is not one of the questions on his list of conversation starters. For some reason, every single meaningful thought suddenly leaves him. Luckily, this simple, safe question seems to put you at ease and you relax even more.

“I do,” you say. “I watched all the movies.”

“Oh, good! And what is your favorite?”

You pluck a piece from your muffin, popping it into your mouth. “Hmm… The Empire Strikes Back, I think.”

“Hehehe, sì, sì, I am your daddy.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m… I don’t mean… you know, the scene with Luke… ugh. So, anyway, yes, that is my favorite as well.”

You giggle and he lights up, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. You reach for one of the sandwiches then. Copia helps, holding the plate up for you.

“So, these are all inspired by Italian foods. I have ugh… caprese. Mozzarella and tomato?”

You reach for the one he showed you. “That sounds great, thank you.”

Copia can’t help but stare as he awaits your reaction. You hum in delight and immediately take another bite of the soft bread. Satisfied, Copia allows himself to grab one as well now. Conversation slows down as you eat but you continue to talk about your interests between bites, finding more and more similarities as the minutes pass. 

Your little spot is beautiful, cool enough to sit comfortably but warm enough to feel the reviving effects of spring. The leaves above you rustle every now and then, birds and bees flying past, the odd ant crawling over your blanket in search of some crumbs. Neither one of you is bothered as you sip on your juice boxes in tandem and intuitively increase your proximity.

With your bodies gravitating towards each other like that, you end up sitting very close after a while. Copia reclines against the tree trunk, pulling his hat down to grant him more shade, a little bit like a cowboy leaning against the walls of a saloon. His white suit is an odd contrast to his relaxed pose, not the most comfortable outfit to lounge in. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls you close to him and angles you so you can rest your head in his lap. 

You’re only tense for a short moment. Copia gets rid of his gloves and you can feel his bare fingers running over your scalp. The steady pattern he draws calms you and you sigh, closing your eyes for a few minutes as a warm feeling of safety spreads out in you.

Copia can’t help but stare. Despite the initial hiccup, you’re so comfortable around each other that he feels like he’s known you forever. This is a dream come true for him, all his fantasies, his wishes, his longings, they all seem to come together in the lovely face dozing in his lap. You’re the most stunning sight he ever had the pleasure to behold. Every line, every hair, every mole, blemish or scar combines into the most beautifully painted canvas – and to him, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“Do you want a strawberry, tesorino?” he asks then.

You open your sparkly eyes and they reflect a speck of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Blinking a few times, you shift in his lap to avoid being blinded. He tenses as your cheek narrowly misses his groin, but then you nod and he distracts himself by reaching for the box of strawberries. 

With careful fingers, he grabs one of the shiny heart-shaped fruits, making sure to touch the stem to avoid any stains, and then guides it to your mouth. He can’t help but stare as he sees your lips part for him, the tip of your tongue peeking out to welcome the sweetness. You sink your teeth into the red flesh, so eager, and spatters of juice stain your lips. They appear even more saturated as you lick them clean, wetting them with your tongue, and he so desperately wants to kiss you.

“They’re so sweet already,” you say, taking the rest of the fruit from his hand.

“Yes, I agree.”

You giggle. “Copia, you haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the strawberries.”

You huff out a flustered breath, fighting the still evident smile on your face, and hold the half-eaten strawberry up to his mouth. “Try.”

He lets you feed him with burning cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his teeth meet the flesh, a few droplets of juice fall astray but he doesn’t even care if they ruin his suit anymore. He can’t stop looking at you, thinking about your soft hand so close to his mouth. He wants to kiss it again, desperately, and so he traps it with his when you try to pull away. With his lips pressed to your palm, he closes his eyes, kissing all the way down to your wrist where he lingers.

You gasp softly, lips parting as Copia continues to drag his lips over the delicate skin. Your reaction brings a smirk to his face, another moment that he’s going to think about for days to come.

“I tried, dolcezza,” he says. “And I think you’re still sweeter.”

You blush so prettily at that. Flustering you is easier than he expected and he takes notes of every little thing that draws a reaction from you. You spend another hour like this, eating fruit, drinking juice, chatting about all sorts of things while you exchange soft touches and words of your blossoming affection. At some point, the gentle breeze that carries on throughout the afternoon becomes stronger, and more and more people head back inside to escape a possible weather change.

Neither one of you wants to leave but as you start to shiver more violently, Copia’s worry about you catching a cold wins over his desire to prolong your date. He proposes to head inside as well, running his hands over the goosebumps on your bare arms to warm you up.

When you reluctantly agree, he starts to pile your dishes and the leftover food into the basket. You move to help but he stops you with a tut. “I will pack this up, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

“I could help you, you know.”

“Ah, no no. I invited you, yes? It is my pleasure.”

It only takes him a few minutes to pack everything up. You grab your flowers in the meantime and he watches from the corner of his eye as you sniff them with a growing smile on your face, swaying slightly from left to right. As Copia shakes out the blanket, folding it messily in the middle, you hesitate by the edge of your little picnic spot.

“So, do you want to walk back together?” you ask.

Copia smiles, glad that you don’t want to leave him quite yet. “I would like that a lot, tesoro. Should I carry the roses for you?”

You hand them over and he places them on the lid of the basket before he carefully picks it up. When he’s by your side again, you stop him with a hand on his forearm, the same gentle squeeze you gave him the last time. Only this time you don’t leave. Instead you lean in and press a soft kiss to his reddened cheek, your lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Copia opens his mouth but he can’t think of anything to say. Instead he uses his unoccupied hand to fish for yours.

Hand in hand, palm against palm, you walk past the leftover groups of Siblings that make use of the last few moments of sun. Neither of you spares anyone else even a glance. Whenever your eyes aren’t focused on the path ahead, they meet each other, giddy, love-sick smiles gracing your lips.

As you finally pass the first archway and enter the cool stone corridors of the abbey, Copia suddenly stops. Your arms slowly extend as you take a few more steps but before your hand can slip from his, he pulls you back. Maybe he used a little bit too much force or maybe he just caught you by surprise, but you practically stumble into his arms. A gasp falls from your lips. You make no attempt at breaking away and so Copia gently guides you against the frame of the archway, setting down the basket in the process so he can place his other hand on your hip.

Big eyes look up into his. He leans in slowly. The rim of his hat catches the stone and it finally slips from his head, dropping somewhere. Copia doesn’t care because he can already feel your sweet strawberry breath on his lips and nothing could stop him from getting a taste. Your hands impatiently grab at his lapels, then, pulling him even closer, and he gasps at the force of your need. With your eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted and your chin tilted up, Copia feels like he’s in a dream.

“Please,” you whisper.

He has to fight a moan, the word resonating somewhere deep inside his belly. Still, he draws out  the moment for as long as he can, stalling as the tension crackles in the tiny space that separates you. He starts by nuzzling your nose while he pushes his hand upwards until he can grasp your jaw. As he angles your head just right, he feels your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He fights off a giggle as they continue to tickle his skin and you shift slightly against him, growing impatient.

“Co–”

His mouth swallows your next syllable. You hum against him as his lips capture yours with gentle adoration. The grip on your waist tightens at the same time as his thumb presses into your cheek. Want, need, trickles into your belly and Copia feels the same way, moving his mouth against yours with slightly more pressure. The kiss is still slow, still tame, but it’s unmistakable how much stowed up desire for the other you both hold inside.

For a while you continue like this, your body trapped between Copia and the cool stone and the world around you a mere shadow. You open your mouth for air and that’s when you can feel his tongue cautiously pushing against yours. The sensation makes you feel even more fuzzy, the need for oxygen forgotten as you tangle your tongue with his. The taste is sweet, residues of fruit and juice, and underneath it all you feel Copia. Copia.

You only break away when you’re both struggling to keep up the pace. He’s a mess, his lipstick gone, black smears covering his chin and cheeks where his eye make-up rubbed off. You lift your hand to wipe some of your mingled spit off of his chin and the blissful expression on his face makes you smile. You love to see his face ruined like this, you decide. And Copia, seeing the lipstick-smears all over your kiss-swollen mouth, unknowingly thinks the same.

“We should do this again sometime,” you say. “The date but also… this. Actually, I think we should do it again right now.”

Copia chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “How about we never stop doing it?”

You nod your approval, wrapping your arms around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft, if a little bit sweaty, messy from the loss of his hat. “I would like that a lot, Copia.”

“I mean it, tesoro,” he whispers with a hint of insecurity. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Ever. We already wasted enough of it.”

A big smile breaks out on your face. Copia can’t help but return it, squeezing you a little tighter to his body, and you giggle happily as he kisses your nose.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “Let’s not waste another moment.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

#i dedicate this to all of my awkward cardinal lovers #been dying to write more of him since the christmas fic #cardinal copia #copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #copia fluff #cardinal copia fluff #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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#jamie drysdale #trevor zegras #mason mctavish #jamie drysdale x f!reader #jamie drysdale x reader #trevor zegras x f!reader #trevor zegras x reader #mason mctavish x f!reader #mason mctavish x reader #jamie drysdale smut #trevor zegras smut #drygras smut #drygras x reader #drygras x mctavish #trevor x jamie x mason #mason mctavish smut #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl smut #nhl imagines #hockey fic #sports rpf #sports romance #nhl players x reader #hockey x you #hockey x reader #philadephia flyers #anaheim ducks

[hyperfixat]

HI!! i have decided on a posting schedule for this fic!! once a month, every month on the 25th, i hope you look forward to it <3 due to someone asking i will have a taglist, so please leave a comment or ask (i won’t post if you ask me not to) to join. any comments or reblogs mean a lot, thank you all for the support i have received.

also, dunno if i mentioned; while the reader is intended to be inclusive toward everyone they are, in the canon of me writing them, bisexual. everything else is up to interpretation

< prev .. next >

** Written PRE 1.5 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcanons.

The Astral Express decides to stop at the Xianzhou Luofu first, then wrap things up on Jarilo VI. According to Pompom the train’s warp is near instant, so they won’t set for take off until the early hours of tomorrow.

Due to them being the first to offer, that night you spend in Caelus’ room. It’s pretty bare bones, an uneven mix of Dan Heng literally living in the archives and March 7th’s tasteful over decoration.

They offer their bed to you, willing to sleep on their relaxing-chair, but Caelus is the proud owner of a queen size bed. Long story short, their bed is large enough to share, and you do.

Initially you had fallen asleep on separate ends, but throughout the night, you migrated closer, making it so that when you crack your dry eyes open as the lights at Herta’s station turn on for the day, you’re greeted with front row seats to Caelus’ face.

After the initial fluster of emotions, you calm your body and mind and get ready to seize the day.

“So who, here, are we gathering up, again?” March questions you merrily, holding a hand out to help you off the express and onto the landing port.

“I hope everyone will still be here,” you muse, basking in the cool air of the flagship. “Will the Stellaron Hunters be here, you think?”

“Probably,” Dan Heng affirms, moving to stand next to you. You glance at him and smile.

“There’s Jing Yuan, Loucha, Fu Xuan, Bailu, Yukong,” you briefly consider mentioning Jinglui or Tingyun, but decide against it. “Yanqing, and of course Blade, Kafka, and Silver Wolf.”

“I doubt Silver Wolf will be here in person,” Caelus nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her not as one of her fancy holograms.”

The six of you, the whole Express minus the conductor, casually walk through the scape of the Central Starskiff Haven, taking in the sights.

The weather (which is likely simulated) is nice and cool enough not to warrant you drowning in sweat. March 7th casually slips her arm through yours, tugging you closer to her. Your gaits are forced to be in sync, but you weren’t walking that much differently than her.

“Be gentle with them, March,” Himeko lightly chides. Her hand falls on your other shoulder, lightly squeezing.

“I’m fine, Ms Himeko,” you reply lightly laughing. “March wasn’t rough.”

“Oh? Well if it isn’t the Astral Express!” Jing Yuan is walking at your group, crossing the flow of walking traffic. He’s so much larger than the game made him seem; he’s taller and broader (especially in the chest) than his game model portrayed. His hair looks shiny and smooth, and you’re staring, aren’t you? Alluring golden eyes meet yours, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You don’t want to speak, too afraid you’ll make an absolute fool out of yourself in front of the General.

“Hey Jing Yuan,” Caelus, ever the angel, redirects his attention. “We need to have a meeting with you and a few others later on. Are you free this evening?”

“Hm?” Jing Yuan gives a distracted sound of affirmation. “Indeed, I am.”

The next person you run into is Master Diviner, Fu Xuan. The short pink haired girl (Fu Xuan in this instance, not March 7th) looks up at the commotion of your group’s entrance.

“The Astral Express and… friend. How can I help you today?”

Caelus and March help lead the introductions throughout the day and before you know it you’ve tracked down Qingque, Loucha, Sushang, and are now on the hunt for the hunters.

“Are we sure they’re here?” You ask after another detour down an Aurum Alley backstreet leads to nothing. “Could they be… I don’t know… at their secret base?”

Welt frowns, resting his weight onto his cane as he comes to a stop next to you. “We can only keep looking, as we don’t know where that so-called secret base is. If we don’t find them soon,” he sighs. “We will have our discussion without them.”

Your group resigns to having your meeting with the Xianzhou Luofu residents without the Stellaron Hunters.

Qingque listens to what you say with a blank, contemplative face, her hands fiddling with her Mahjong pieces, fingers rubbing the smooth finish. She looks at you when you move your gaze away, eyes watching you curiously.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” you finish off your mini-speech. “But, please, you all are vital parts of this world and its story, and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

Loucha has long set his coffin down beside him, letting the thing take up an entire chair’s space. Jing Yuan looks across the table at the blond man, “what do you make of this situation?”

“It sounds absurd.” The voice didn’t come from your table. You lift your head and look around the empty plaza.

“Silver Wolf?” When you utter her name, her hologram flickers beside you. She’s semi-opaque and looks down at you.

“You know my name.” Silver Wolf aprases you. “That does help prove your point, I’ll give you that.” Her gaze moves to a well maintained shrub across the way, “I think it’s legit, Kafka.”

“Kafka?” Jing Yuan’s eyebrow raises. At that moment her well maintained, elegant form slips out from the branches of the bush. She pulls out a stray leaf from her hair and nods at the General.

“How intriguing.” Kafka switches her focus to you, “if what you say is indeed true…”

“It is.” You say before you can stop yourself. Her eyebrow lifts at your eager reply.

Fu Xuan crosses her legs and stares harshly at the wine haired woman. “You are a wanted criminal on the Xianzhou Luofu.”

Kafka gasps, faux hurt on her face. Her hand lays over her chest, right where her heart is. “Imprisoning me would be against your better interests regarding this one right here.” She says, referring to you. “If Elio were to know of how this little one has come to our world, who would be able to ask if not me?”

“Silver Wolf could, no?” Fu Xuan bites back. When her gaze moves to where Silver Wolf’s hologram was though, she has disappeared. Kafka giggles softly.

“I take it that is a no,” Jing Yuan chuckles.

“A game…” Qingque muses softly. Sushang, seated beside her, nabs a lone Mahjong tile, flipping it in the air idly. “It’s so odd. I have a whole life of memories, yet you say I am only built to be a side piece for entertainment.”

You look down at your lap, face feeling hot with shame at ever evening playing Honkai Star Rail. It’s not like you could have known…

Madam Yukong hums, “while I am inclined to believe you, is there any proof you can offer us? Something you know that would otherwise be unexplainable?”

Loucha is silent in his seat. “How much do you know about us?” He seems troubled.

You think, wondering where the question came from at the same moment a certain cutscene comes to mind. Loucha was somewhere he shouldn’t have been and is carrying more than just a coffin laden with secrets around.

“As a general rule of thumb, I won’t be revealing anything possibly hurtful or incriminating about anyone here.” You sigh, a line of worry coming across your forehead. This is all a lot to deal with. “I… I will do my best not to infringe on any of your private lives.”

“Hey now,” March puts on a sympathetic tone and pets the crown of your head. “I’m fine with you infringing on my private life.” The words most definitely contain an innuendo that you don’t think anyone at the table failed to miss.

With pink cheeks Dan Heng says as well, “You have become somewhat important to me in the limited time we’ve known each other. I would not object to having a more private relationship with you.”

Rounding back to the Foxian’s question you address her. “I mean, yeah, I could tell you what I know of your lives, but honestly? It’s mostly trauma, and sad, sad things.”

Yukong takes a long pause, lips thinning. “I see. I will lend you my trust for now, though I wish to have a private moment with you later on.”

The whole table shares with you that you have no need to worry about forging bonds with them, and it makes you tear up a bit. “That’s very kind of you all, thank you.” Once the emotional moment has come and gone, you realize the absence of one key character.

“Kafka, where’s Blade?”

Her face, that remained unchanging for the whole duration of the conversation, falls slightly. “The Mara is harsh on him today.”

“Oh,” you’d almost forgotten about the Mara. The affliction that curses those who don’t die by it, leading Blade into an undying fate of misery. “I would like to talk to him and fill him in on me being here.”

“He will come and find me soon enough. Wait here with me, darling.” A warm feeling covers your face and chest at the pet name she gives you. Everything about this woman makes you feel crazy….

“Leave them alone with you?” March's tone makes it clear how much she detests the idea. “No way!”

Kafka pouts, eyes lidding as she looks over at the girl, “would you rather I take them to meet Bladie?”

Caelus calls your name, meeting your eyes considerately. “You played our world as a game, so you must have an answer to this. Do you trust Kafka to bring you no harm if we leave your side?”

Now that… it’s not like you’re alone in a desolate place with her. Screaming is always an option. The thought of spending time alone with her makes your heart beat faster and fills your head with its sound. You got sidetracked, imagining sitting side by side with the woman… rather you should focus on the question at hand.

“Yes.” It’s half true. You wonder if her Elio has given her orders regarding anyone from other worlds. Hopefully nothing like ‘eliminate them on sight.’

The Xianzhou Luofu and Astral Express crew bid you goodbyes, Himeko making a point to narrow her eyes threateningly at Kafka as she exits the pavilion.

Kafka drags a chair out next to you and leans on her elbows, gazing at you. You force yourself to maintain calm, even breaths, willing and praying for the heat in your face to dissipate.

The two of you sit there in silence for a moment.

“I wonder if Elio foresaw me coming into this world,” you muse, gazing into Kafka’s pupil-less eyes. The color, a captivating mix of red wine and magenta, doesn’t give away emotion.

“I doubt it.” Her words are floaty and smooth, “As much as I don’t want to admit that, but your existence seems beyond even Elio’s grasp of understanding.”

“Will…” those words send an uncomfortable feeling down your spine. “Will he be angry about that?”

“Who’s to say?” Though in her unchanging eyes you swear you see a hint of amusement. “Though the way you captivate the hearts and minds of everyone you come across, I don’t believe you to be in any danger.”

Well, at least you don’t have to worry about being nuked or anything at the moment. That’s a relief.

Occasionally making small talk, the sun sets on the Loufu as you and Kafka watch. It’s quite intimate for having just met today, but you find your head leaning on her shoulder, breathing in her scent.

While the sky is painted twilight purple, Blade finally makes his presence.

His gait is cool and slow and had you not known of his Mara-Struck status you would think he’s calm and relaxed. His red pupils dilate when he catches sight of you, and they flick over to Kafka where they stay.

“I am late.” He says, though does not apologize.

“Don’t worry about it, Bladie, I had plenty of time to learn about this little one.” Kafka rubs the back of her hand on your cheek, the rings unnaturally cool against your face. It envokes a rush of heat to your face, making you divert your gaze to Blade, who takes the seat next to you.

You’re caged in between the two most beautiful, cool, and awesome Stellaron Hunters. Breathe. Just breathe and don’t pass out or get a bloody nose, because that’d be so cringe.

Kafka’s laugh twinkles in the air like wind chimes at your reaction.

“Are you planning on staying with the Astral Express?” Blade probes. He traces the planes of your face mentally, taking in every detail that graces you.

“Oh?” Kafka leans across you to tease her… (dog) comrade. “Recruiting them already, are we?”

Recruiting you? Are they trying to get you to join their organization? What use would you be as a Stellaron Hunter? You have no battle experience (how would battle even work? Turn based fighting, even in the real world?), so you’re useless there. You have some tech know-how, but clearly nowhere near Silver Wolf’s talent. All you have is— oh.

They want your knowledge about being from beyond this world, don’t they? That revelation brings a sour feeling to your soul. So you weren’t being paid attention to out of genuine interest rather they’re using how you react so positively to being fawned over to gain your favor.

You pull back, away from Kafka and Blade. The chair scrapes the pavement painfully, shrieking as it does so. Both of their gazes flash over to you.

“Where are you headed off to little one?” Kafka calls for you as you gather yourself and stand. Blade remains silent, but his gaze makes up for it in intensity. Though with Kafka’s eyes being clouded and without pupils, it’s not a high calling.

“Restroom.” You lie comfortably.

“Let me come with you,” Kafka says, moving to standing as well.

Even if you do not use the same restroom, you shake your head. “It’s okay, I’ll be back,” maybe.

Himeko finds you wandering Central Starskiff Haven alone, her fiery hair flowing behind her as she speeds up her walk to a brisk pace. She calls out your name, making you look up and offer a half smile.

“Ms Himeko.” You greet.

When she reaches your side, she wraps a lean arm around your shoulders, and tugs you a tad bit closer. Her sweet perfume feels like a second hug.

“Did Kafka abandon you?” Himeko’s words bring a more genuine smile to your face, and respond lightly.

“I didn’t want to continue the conversation we were having.”

Her hand strokes over your hair, “hm? Do you want to elaborate on that or would you rather not breach that topic for now?” You wrap your arms around her waist, seeking comfort, and ignoring the way her golden accessories dig into your torso.

“I want to go home,” you reply quietly, speaking into her skin. Though you don’t know if you wish to go to your home, your home in the real world, or simply seek out the safety and privacy of the Astral Express.

“Let’s get you home, then.” Himeko keeps you close as you navigate through the thinning crowds. Her arms are sturdy as she keeps you close from other pedestrians.

“Where are the others?” you wonder idly. Perhaps they took the time to catch up with the Xianzhou Luofu locals. You hope they won’t leave early for your sake, childishly running away when things don’t go quite the way you’d wanted. That’d make you feel far worse than you already do.

“I believe Caelus and General Jing Yuan are training with Yanqing,” Himeko begins. “March is at the Divination Commision. Welt and Dan Heng are in the Exalting Sanctum. As for the native citizens, I can’t say I paid much attention to where they headed off to.”

You nod contemplatively. “Can we get something to drink, or eat, before we head back to the Express?” It seems like a decent way to spend the time, and your body seems to have realized that you haven’t eaten much today.

Himeko agrees, and both of you find your way to an outdoor table at the Sleepless Earl, the both of you nursing Immortal’s Delights and sharing a new cake they’re testing out. Mengming was eager to offer up the slice to you both, and well, free food is free food. It’s delicious too.

At a certain point you realize just how much of a date it is you’re on with Himeko, a classic coffee shop date. It makes warmth flutter in your chest like butterflies on fire. And she’s not doing it out of desire to wring you for information. Perhaps she feels some moral obligation to not let you get lost, but it seems that she likes you, genuinely, as a person. That brings a soft smile to your face that you cover with a sip of your sweet coffee.

Before you find yourself lost once more in the gold of Himeko’s eyes once again a flash of orange hair and brilliant fire catches your attention from your peripheral vision.

There’s a familiar looking street performer showing off dangerous fire swallowing tricks with a crowd surrounding her. With a start you realize it’s an unreleased character, one you had not accounted for being here.

Gui… something.

Himeko follows your gaze when you jolt, “I’m sure those tricks are safe, she looks well practiced.” Her cool hand covers yours, her gold rings clinking against the table.

You shake your head, “she’s part of the game.”

“Hm? I thought we rounded up everyone on this nation already?”

“I thought so too. She’s unreleased, but I’ve seen her trailer and some leaks. Gui, ah I can’t recall her name, but we should probably catch her attention when we can.”

Gui is amazing at keeping the crowd around her engaged. She’s a natural performer.

There’s a round of cheers as she leans back comically, covering her mouth like she’s going to cough before leaning upwards and blowing out a sharp stream of flame from her mouth.

“She’s really good,” you murmur to yourself, transfixed by her crowdwork.

“Indeed,” Himeko nods.

Guinaifen, you remember her name just as she takes a large, performative bow. The citizens around her disperse and you whisper her name under your breath. As if she could hear you, her amber eyes meet yours from across the pavilion. Her head tilts, her side ponytail leaning more crooked than it was.

“We should talk to her,” you say, but shyness is a hard beast to battle and you drop your stare.

Himeko lets out an amused huff as she stands and crosses to talk to the girl.

A few moments later the two fiery haired women return to your table. Guinaufen drags a chair from an empty nearby table and sits next to you.

“Ms Himeko here says you need to talk to me about something? I saw you watching my performance, so if you’re asking for trade secrets, I have to let you down now. A magician never reveals her secrets~.” There’s a sheen of sweat across her forehead and her baby hairs make a halo around her face. Your mouth dries up when you look at her.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” you say with a hoarse chuckle. You lift your refreshing drink up to wet your palate. “Actually, it’s a bit on the serious side. I would have invited you to the meeting earlier, but I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Hm? What meeting?”

“You have to take my word for it but I am not lying. Make an audience with the general if you want. He will back up my claims.” You ignore her question, instead focusing on carefully delivering your words. “This is a game. I played this world as a video game, but somehow I wound up here and I’m letting you know because you are an important side character. I did not know to search for you, because you aren’t a part of the story yet. If a time comes where I need your assistance to get me back to where I belong or something like that, I wanted you to be informed of this.”

“HUH?”

After thorough explanation with Himeko’s assistance, you bid Guinaifen farewell.

The artificial lighting of the Alliance ships dims as time passes, simulating a sunset as a natural planet would have. When the sky turns orange and pink, the same soft pink as a certain March 7th’s hair, you and Himeko decide to make your way back to where the Astral Express docked.

To your surprise, when you step into the passenger cart the breasts of Jing Yuan greet you. You blink, then look up to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Jing Yuan chuckles to help alleviate your embarrassment.

“It’s quite alright, I must be going now, I hope to see you again, and soon,” he finishes by saying your name, the deep rumble of his voice bringing more warmth to your face.

“You too, me too. Uh, bye Jing Yuan, I hope to see you soon.” You’re going to die, that was so embarrassing, what the fuck, you’re so so silly. Himeko hides a smile, wrapping her arm around your shoulders to escort you back down the sleeping cart and to the safety of her room where you can recover from your flush.

taglist. @leafanonsforest

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #isekai #honkai star rail isekai #self aware honkai star rail #sahsrau #xianzhou luofu #astral express crew x reader #hsr x you #tagging is hard

[curseofhyperfixation]

hi! i love your art! wanted to ask what are the archivists names? and their personalities? does kepler live with them? shes a blorbo

hope you have a cool night!

Oh well here there's reference sheet! :D

(More information below)

Sirius the Archivist  

Is the eldest of the siblings in both terms of mental and physical age.

Sirius is incredibly reliable and responsible out of all his siblings and tends to be the main reason keeping the family together, especially post-titan war.

A workaholic who focuses too much on their work.

Favored by The Council, Sirius uses it to give his siblings more freedom and control than what their species would usually give.

The one who adopted Collector when they were born. But, wasn't as present in their years of growing up due to their role as the Head Archivist.

Was the one who told Collector to play with the Titans.

Sirius made a contract with the Titan Trappers.

_

Borealis the Naturalist

The second oldest of the siblings only being born a few decades after Sirius.

Despite being equally as strong as their eldest sibling, their inability to control their emotions hinders them from properly using it.

Being one of the siblings (Excluding Collector) to have emotions similar to that of mortals.

Borealis show favoritism towards their youngest and hypocritical towards their own beliefs and morals.

Didn't participate in the Titan war.

Had attempted to completely put the planet of the Isles into a complete ice age.

_

Ouroboros the Architect

The third oldest sibling.

They lack any emotions or feelings but understand what those are.

They create personas that would match their sibling's personalities.

Collector’s favorite sibling.

Would play games with Collector that often lead to damages of exoplanets that they later on fix.

Was a key factor in the reason the Trappers accepted the contract with Sirius.

Influence Collector’s view of mortals as nothing but a toy they can entertain themselves with.

Was born from the collapsing of a black hole.

_

Circe the Researcher

The fourth oldest of the siblings

Would keep Collector away from their Archives due to what lies inside of it.

Used the corpses of Titans to get a better understanding of their anatomy and magic.

Is fascinated by the ecosystem that has grown from the corpse of the Titans.

Shows great curiosity towards the Titan species.

Was disappointed that the species had to be wiped out due to the possibility of becoming an annoyance to them.

Has souvenirs from the war in the archives.

_

Gabriel the Collector

The youngest of the siblings.

Bothers all his siblings when they’re working.

Keeps releasing all the fuzzy creatures archived in Borealis section.

Is hyperactive and tends to ignore his sibling’s advice.

 Has jars of shiny rocks.

Was found by Sirius when they were born.

Often cause trouble to get their sibling’s attention. (It always works)

Claustrophobic from being trapped inside a tablet.

Misses their titan friends.

_

Wolly is somewhere sleeping :D

(Thanks for reading!)

#the owl house #toh #the collector #toh the collector #toh collector #owl house #the archivist #The collector toh #toh the archivists #toh the archivist #the archivists #TSOYB AU

[hopeforkitten]

thanks to my head, which thought what if the devils were molting. (if we consider the skin of the cambions, then they have scales)

• you lived in the house of hope for a long time and seemed to know all its features. although, you probably should never say that you know everything about devils.

you returned from the balcony in the archive and did not expect to see an incubus here. Haarlep was sitting with his legs over the armrest and reading a book with an extremely bored look, flipping through the pages with one claw. how could this personification of feline nature leave the cozy bed of the boudoir? And why?

"Oh, Haarlep, why are you here?"

"Hello little mouse! Well, I'm obviously not here of my own free will." he was very inspired by your voice. "Perhaps you will find the answer to this question in my former place of residence." his eyes took on their usual cunning gleam, causing you to distrust.

"And what am I going to find there?..."

"Oh, you haven't seen him in his period yet" he let go of the book and made a gesture of quotation marks "Go, go, I'm impatient to find out how everything will go" he waved his hand towards the doors and you headed the same way.

Along the way, you wondered what could be the reason for Raphael's unexpected mood. Anyway, you haven't done anything wrong, so why should you be afraid of his anger, right?

The boudoir barrier let you through, and from afar you saw Raphael sitting with his back to you and fidgeting erratically. His housecoat was held on his hips by a belt, and his upper body was naked. He diligently moved his wings, even tried to scratch their hard edge against the horns, as well as scratch his shoulders with his hands and tried unsuccessfully to reach the base of the wings.

"maybe I can help?"

You said hesitantly. Raphael didn't even notice how you walked from the entrance to the edge of the bed. He looked at you briefly with displeasure.

"and this is you. go ahead and try it."

He turned back and waited for your actions. you swallowed and hesitantly stroked the base of your wings.

"No mouse, use your claws," Raphael barked back at you.

you started scratching the shoulder blade of the wings with your short nails and it did real magic to him. He let out a sigh of relief and tilted his head back a little. such a reaction was more than enough to make you do it for hours.

• This was just the beginning of Raphael's molt. the symptoms are a bad mood and scabies. while the various stages of his molting were going on, he always lingered on the first one - denial. He hated this time. Raphael was too sensitive and imperfect during this period. Everything should always be perfect in it, both appearance and endurance. But this rare period spoils all his plans.

during the molt, he canceled all his business and did not leave the house of hope. without you, he used to wait it out alone in the boudoir, moving around in short forays from there. it is better not to catch his eye at this moment.

However, with you.... he won't say it, but molting with you has become a pleasant vacation. To you, he grumbles nonstop, like a very big moody child. but your presence changed everything... you scratch his back and wings, smear him with moisturizer, (gently stroke his shiny new scales and admire his beauty? yes, please) sit by the pool while he soaks and only his head sticks out of the water.

you will timidly help him with the removal of dead skin, asking if it hurts him. (imagine how much work his wings need)

• You also became the devil's personal pillow during this period. He just won't let you go a step away from him, with the rare exception when you need to leave the boudoir and bring him something. it's better not to linger chatting with Haarlep, it can cost you dearly.

since his diabolical work was suspended, he switched from contracts to fiction and read it in tandem with you.

He was going into cat mode. Today, practically the archdevil wants to spend the day in bed, and you pathetic little man will be my pillow and a scratcher and bring me a book or soothing tea and I'll eat your soul if you disobey, yes.

• Raphael is horrified to realize that he has been scratching the skin surrounding the horns several times a day. this means that after the back and wings, the skin on the face will be renewed... Oh, how he doesn't like it. the mouse does not stare at him, you are on thin ice and now he will obviously spend more time using you as a pillow so that you cannot stare at him

• it will be strange when this ends and the former strict and perfect Raphael returns to you, and he will never bring up this topic. however, before the next molt, he will send you an order to come to the boudoir and it's good that you already know how to help him.

#raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #moult #It's such a funny thought. #I'll turn Raphael into a cat #but I'll justify it.

[pixiemage]

Cut the Line

OR: Tango comes home to find Jimmy holding a golden apple...but not everything is as it seems.

[A/N: I told myself I would ever write full Rancher angst...]

[This work can also be read on Archive of our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tango’s stomach dropped, a dread building in his chest that he hadn’t been expecting when he’d come home with iron and food for his soulmate. His eyes were locked on the shining golden apple sitting in Jimmy’s outstretched hand.

“...where’d you find that?” he breathed, tension straining the soulbond.

“Pearl,” Jimmy told him. His voice was calm, even, unfazed - as though it was just another normal day and he wasn’t holding the potential end of their bond in the palm of his hand. “She was saving it for herself, but when I asked for it, apparently she thought I needed it more.”

Oh. Tango slowly closed the front door behind him with a quiet click. He cleared his throat, his eyes still lingering on the golden apple. His tail coiled around one of his legs and he forced himself to turn away, crouching in front of their chests so he could put away the iron he’d mined. He could pretend to be normal, maybe, for a little while longer. Just for a few seconds. Iron went in, tucked away in the corner, then what little gold he’d managed to find…gold he’d been intending to use for a courting gift. (Might not get to use at all, now. His fingers lingered on the unrefined ore, sooty fingerprints clinging to the half-shiny surface.)

“Why?” he asked finally, standing and letting the lid fall softly shut. He turned around and sat on its edge, fiddling with a chunk of undusted redstone he hadn’t put away. “Why’d you ask for it?”

Jimmy blinked, looking confused.

“For…you?” he said slowly, his head tipping to the side. “So you don’t have to be stuck with me and my curse anymore.”

Tango’s blood ran cold, an impressive feat for a blazeborn. His eyes went wide and he stared at Jimmy, waiting for him to laugh, or crack a smile, say he was joking. But he didn’t. He looked so innocently serious about it, as though he actually expected Tango to just be okay with what he was suggesting.

“I’m not - I don’t–” Tango choked out, shaking his head slowly, and he pushed himself to his feet since Jimmy wasn’t moving. He dragged a hand over his face and tried to compose himself. “Jimmy, I’m not stuck with you. I’m with you, willingly. Soulmates, teammates, partners - ranchers. I’ve got your back.” Jimmy still looked lost, confused, as if he didn’t quite understand, and Tango closed some of the gap between them. “Buddy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you could,” Jimmy blurted out, holding the apple higher for Tango to take. “You could, if you wanted, and–”

“But I don’t want,” Tango cut him off. Jimmy was still holding the apple between them so Tango took it gingerly from him, barely giving it a look before tossing it toward the bed. Jimmy let out a startled chirp and went to follow it, but Tango caught his arm in one gentle hand. He drew Jimmy’s wide eyes back to him. “I want you, Jimmy. I like who the game chose for me, and if I had my choice I’d pick you again in a heartbeat.”

Jimmy shook his head slowly, his lips tugging into a frown and his brow scrunching up in a quiet distress that Tango could feel in the bond.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, sounding unsteady for the first time since Tango had arrived home. “Tango, you shouldn’t, I’m - I’m bad luck. I’m cursed. It’s not worth staying for if–”

“Jimmy.” Tango shook his head, at a loss for what to say to convince Jimmy that he was so very wrong. “Jim, you’re so worth it. You’re worth–” He was worth everything. Tango stepped closer, stepping forward into the light filtering in through the window and meeting his soulmate’s eyes beseechingly. “Jimmy, tell me you want me gone, and I’ll go. If you can tell me honestly that you don’t want me for a soulmate I’ll - I’ll talk to Grian, okay?” Jimmy’s eyes had turned shining and his jaw had gone tense, his wings puffed behind him. “But I don’t think–”

Jimmy snorted.

Tango blinked and trailed off, watching as Jimmy’s confused and conflicted expression gave way to barely restrained amusement.

“...what?” Tango asked, and Jimmy snickered.

“Sorry, sorry, you have–” He reached up, his thumb brushing over the end of Tango’s nose, and when he turned his hand to let the light hit it, there was a red shining dust clinging to Jimmy’s skin. Redstone. “I didn’t notice until you stepped into the light, but it’s–”

“CUT!”

There was a splattering of laughter and groans from the gathered cast and crew on set, and Tango glanced toward the front door when Cleo shouldered her way in.

“You and Mumbo, I swear–” she grumbled, fishing a compact mirror from her back pocket and holding it out for Tango to take. “How you even manage to get redstone on you in a scene without redstone as a focus will never cease to amaze me.”

Tango smiled sheepishly and glanced at his reflection, chuckling weakly when he spotted smudges of red dust along his right cheek and his nose.

“It blended in with your freckles for a while,” Jimmy commented, taking the cloth from Cleo before she could do anything, leaning in close to get a good look. “Here, let me–”

“Thanks rancher,” Tango winked, and Jimmy went a soft pink as he carefully dabbed at his scene partner’s face. (He did a very good job of pretending he wasn’t affected by Tango’s comment, but the flutter of his wings betrayed him. Just a little.)

A few more people spilled in through the open ranch door, resetting props and fetching the fake golden apple from where it had tumbled across the floor. Grian was among them, a tousled script in hand that Tango knew was covered in red and blue scribbled notes and comments.

“Why don’t you two take twenty?” he suggested in a low voice once he was close enough. He tugged off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. “That was a really good take, by the way…until Tim broke character.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah? Really good?” Tango repeated, hoping Grian was being honest. It had felt like a good read, and he and Jimmy had seemed to play off each other really well with emotions and timing and everything. But he knew it always looked different from the outside.

Grian grinned lopsidedly.

“Really really good,” he insisted. “Considering we’ve been running this one for almost an hour, I’m impressed neither of you have fallen into muscle memory yet. It still feels real and spontaneous, and you’re getting comfortable enough with the lines that I’m starting to really feel it as an audience member.” He patted Tango on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, heading back for the door. “You’re doing great! Take a break, you deserve it. We’ll take it from your entrance when you get back.”

“Don’t mess up your hair before we get back or I will kill you,” Cleo drawled, and Tango snickered when Jimmy actually went a little pale at the threat.

“I’m…just gonna go check on Norman,” he mumbled, slipping past Cleo and vanishing off the set.

A passing crew member took the chunk of redstone from Tango as he passed and Tango wiped his hands on the cloth Jimmy had left with him, not wanting to end up with more dust in places it wasn’t meant to be. Cleo took it from him the moment he was done.

“You know he’s terrified of you, right?” Tango teased as he trailed after Cleo, both of them leaving the ranch behind so the crew could finish their reset. He snatched a water from the snack table as they passed. “You could be a little nicer to him.”

“I’ll be nicer to Jimmy when he stops wiping his hands on his costume jeans,” she muttered. “Honestly, you’d think he’d remember they’re not his. You all go for lunch, and he ends up with crumbs and little stains that I have to get out before the next shoot.”

“He’s a bit forgetful,” Tango shrugged, though there was an affectionate tone to his words that he couldn’t hide if he tried. “But he always apologizes. It ain’t like he’s doing it on purpose.”

Cleo huffed and tossed the redstone-tinged cloth into a bin near her makeup station.

“Go find your boytoy,” Cleo snipped at him, making Tango choke on the water he was sipping.

“Wh– ngah, hah, um–” He let out a light, nervous laugh. “My what?”

“Your soulmate,” Cleo sing-songed, dropping gracefully into the comfortable chair she’d all but demanded be brought in for her corner of the set. “Go on. We both know he’s waiting at his trailer for you.”

Tango felt his face warm, and he was sure there were tiny sparking flames dancing in his hair beneath Cleo’s knowing gaze.

“How…?”

“Oh my giddy aunt, you’re obvious,” she drawled. “Have you seen you two? Pearl an’ I have a bet going to see how long it’ll take Grian to notice, because - well - it’s Jimmy, and Grian has a hard time picturing Jimmy as anything but his Adorable Baby Brother. Took ‘im two months to realize Scott kept coming around because he and Jimmy were dating.” She grabbed a magazine off the makeup table and flipped through it idly. “‘Course, almost everyone else knows by now. It’s hard to miss.”

What.

“Go kiss your damn boyfriend already, he’ll probably cry if you don’t show up,” Cleo teased. She prodded Tango away with her foot. “Go on. Go get ‘im, tiger.”

If Tango happened to walk just a little too fast to get away from Cleo’s smirking stare, that was his business and nobody else’s. (And maybe Joel’s, since Tango almost ran the poor guy over in his hurry to get to Jimmy’s trailer. But Joel wouldn’t ask. Probably.)

Tango didn’t bother knocking when he arrived at Jimmy’s trailer. They visited each other often enough that there weren’t many boundaries anymore, and it wasn’t as if Jimmy wasn’t already expecting him. So Tango let himself into the small and cozy space, smiling softly when he spotted his partner near the far window, gently misting the few plants sitting on the small table there. They didn’t have a ton of room because of the limited space a trailer provided, but Jimmy always managed to make his feel homely anyway.

Tango crept up behind him on soft feet, enjoying the way Jimmy’s feathers fluffed in pleased surprise when Tango’s arms wound their way around his waist from behind. He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sing-songed. Jimmy melted against his chest with a soft twitter.

“Tango,” he huffed, though he sounded more amused than anything. “You scared me!”

“Who, little ol’ me?” Tango squeezed him once before letting him go, giving Jimmy space to turn around and face him properly. There was a sparkle of mirth in his grin and his tail danced lazily behind him in a teasing sort of way.

Jimmy rolled his eyes adoringly. He set the plant mister aside and let Tango reel him back in, folding into Tango’s hold like he belonged there. He was kissing Tango before the netherborn had a chance to make another quip, his eyes falling shut and a pleased little hum muffling itself against Jimmy’s smiling lips.

“Took you long enough,” Jimmy murmured softly between kisses, his hands trailing over Tango’s costume vest aimlessly. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“Cleo,” Tango told him. “Got sidetracked.” He guided Jimmy away from the window so they wouldn’t bump into the plants, not minding a bit when his legs collided with the couch. He sat down when Jimmy nudged at his shoulders, unsurprised when he immediately found himself with a lapful of cuddly soulmate. They’d ended up here dozens of times before, and by now it was comfortable and familiar, these small precious moments of closeness stolen between scenes or long after filming had finished for the night. He and Jimmy just fit together so naturally…he couldn’t fathom a life or universe where they hadn’t found each other.

Jimmy picked up where they left off as seamlessly as if they’d never stopped. It was all slow, lazy kisses and warm affection, Jimmy’s hands barely stopping themselves from tangling in Tango’s hair (they still had a shoot to finish, afterall), and Tango’s thumbs tracing gentle circles against Jimmy’s hips where his grip had loosely fallen.

“How long do we have?” Tango asked breathlessly, and he felt Jimmy’s arm shift against his shoulder to check.

“...twelve minutes.”

“I can work with that.”

Jimmy let out a soft giggle and pressed his forehead to Tango’s, their noses barely brushing.

“We’ve done more with less,” he teased, and Tango grinned.

“Damn right we have.”

It was still a damn miracle Etho hadn’t found them in that closet.

Jimmy kissed him again, his mouth migrating away from Tango’s, pressing his lips along Tango’s jawline in a slow and gentle trail, mouthing lazily at the spot below his ear and nuzzling his face into the crook of his partner’s neck. He settled there for a moment, seeming comfortable and content, and Tango was smiling adoringly when he pressed a lopsided kiss against Jimmy’s hair.

“Comfy?” he teased quietly, and Jimmy let out a warbled little chirp of affirmation. His wings went lax at his back, draping across the couch on either side of Tango, and a low rumble arose in Tango’s chest at the coziness of it all. “Not gonna lie, twelve minutes of cuddle-actions sounds awesome right now.”

“Just wanna be close to you,” Jimmy murmured, snuggling in just that little bit closer, and–

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Tango jolted, and so did Jimmy, his wings afluffed and his head jerking up to stare at the door.

“Grian!” Jimmy squeaked. “Hi! We - er–”

“What?!” Grian sounded flabbergasted and he looked it too. If his jaw was any lower it would’ve hit the floor, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. “You - he–”

“Do you need something?” Tango asked casually, much to Jimmy’s amusement if the choked-back laugh he stifled in Tango’s shoulder was anything to go by. “We still have eleven minutes before we need to be on set.”

Grian gaped at him, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

“No,” he said finally, sounding a little hysterical. “Nope. It can - you know what, it can wait. It can - yeah. Ten minutes. On set in - yes. Okay. Right.” He floundered for the doorknob, missing once or twice before he finally dragged his gobsmacked stare away from the couple on the couch. He yanked it open and paused, his wings an agitated mess of red and yellow and blue.

“…how long–”

“Two months,” Jimmy told him sheepishly. He was peeking out at his brother past golden feathers, his wings having curved forward slightly in a half-hearted effort to hide. “We wanted to enjoy it without the attention for a while, ‘cause it was new an’ all. Kept it quiet, you know?”

“Fat lot o’ good that did, lad,” Joel said bluntly, sticking his head through the open doorway and earning startled reactions from all involved. “Just about everyone knows. ‘Cept you, Grian.”

Grian squawked and Tango felt his face warm, his hair sparking alongside Jimmy’s resulting spluttering.

“E-Everyone?” he stammered, and Joel shrugged.

“Most everyone.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t snog in closets on set, idiot.”

Jimmy went pink and Tango sank into the couch. Oh. Oh, geez. Maybe Etho wasn’t as oblivious as Tango had assumed.

He cleared his throat.

“…mind giving us those last five minutes?” he asked, his voice a little high-pitched. At Joel’s smirk-lined snickering, he let out an inhuman strangled wheeze. “NO, not - we were just cuddling! C’mon, man–”

“Mhm. Suuuure,” Joel drawled. He hooked Grian’s elbow and dragged him out, letting the door fall shut. From outside the trailer, Tango heard his last quippy remark: “Use protection, lads!”

Jimmy’s embarrassed twittering was muffled in Tango’s shoulder, his wings almost entirely cocooning them now. Tango ran a soothing hand through his partner’s hair, catching slightly on the light gel that kept it looking so adorable during filming.

“Do you want me to fix your feathers, sweetheart?” he asked, earning a grumble from the avian in his lap.

“…no,” he said finally, sounding a bit defeated. “They’re meant to be a little messy for the scene anyway.”

“Mm.” Tango nodded, trailing his claws against Jimmy’s scalp. Jimmy melted under his ministrations, snuggling into Tango’s chest like he had been before they had been so rudely interrupted. “How about tonight, when we’re done filming?”

Jimmy pressed a lazy kiss to the side of Tango’s neck, and Tango could only assume that was a nonverbal yes. Then Jimmy sighed. He dragged himself upright and glanced at his watch, sending a weary smile in Tango’s direction.

“Almost showtime,” he told him. “Ready to go stop me from breaking up with you again?”

“I’d do it a million times if it means I get to keep you,” Tango grinned, tugging Jimmy down into one last kiss before letting his partner go. Jimmy pretended to be unfazed but Tango could see the way his wings barely fluttered and his cheeks warmed, the nonchalant mask near-transparent to someone who knew him as well as Tango did. He was far more affected by how affectionate Tango could be than he let most people know.

A million times, Tango had told him. And it was true. A million and more, if it was ever needed, he’d fight for Jimmy again and again. In any world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N - ...and I still haven't! Written full Rancher angst, that is. I might be physically incapable. Oops! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO HAPPY BELATED APRIL FOOLS! Sorry for the heart attack at the beginning there, I don't know WHAT came over me! 🤪 Craaaazy! This was ALWAYS meant to be an Actors AU! Obviously! Totally! I definitely didn't start writing proper angst and then make a left turn to keep myself happy!!!

(I actually didn't do that either lol. The original plan was to write an entire angsty Rancher break up fic with the WORST grammar and spelling and OOC-ness you've ever seen in your life, but I couldn't force myself to write badly. It wasn't happening, folks. So you get fluff and sillies instead lol. Hope you had fun!)]

#Team Rancher #Solidaritek #TrafficShipping #April Fool's Day #April Fools #Pixiemage Writes #Jimmy Solidarity #TangoTek #SolidarityGaming

[shinestarhwaa]

HELLO KITTY || PARK SEONGHWA

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem reader

Word Count: 2K

Tags/warnings: sub!hwa, dom!reader, hwa likes dressing up as a cat, sex toys, anal play (Hwa's buttplug), petplay ig?, use of kitten/kitty, some sort of mild bsdm maybe? idk, mommy kink, cockstepping, cockslapping, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @star1117-archives @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @lemonhongjoong @babesindestroyland @changbinslovelylegs

Now I'm not the type to write fantasy or hybrid sort of fics, but I do love catboy Hwa so I figured I could do one where Hwa just loves dressing up as one instead of being one lol, you can ask other writers for a Cat hybrid hwa fic if you want :)

ENJOY!

‘’Baby, where are you?’’ you called out, looking for your boyfriend. You were roaming the house, searching for him as you hadn’t seen him since you came home. When you entered the bathroom your eyes widened, being surprised to find him like this. ‘’Hwa? What are you doing? What is tha- Oh.’’

Seonghwa blushed heavily as he got caught sliding his cat tail into his own home. ‘’Y/N, I was just… trying something, you know,’’ he stammered. You grinned and watched Seonghwa’s nude body tremble in front of you. His hair was a little messy, but he managed to create two little cat ears. He had a pink little choker on, the one with a bell that he loved so much. Right behind him wiggled a shiny black tail, brushing against his leg.

Now you heard a muffled buzzing sound, you noticed how hard his cock actually was. ‘’Is that a buttplug, honey?’’ you asked, stepping closer to him. He swallowed thickly and nodded. ‘’I just wanted to try it out, I am so sorry, I-‘’ ‘’Woah, woah, woah, Seonghwa, what are you even sorry about? Come on, turn around and show me,’’ you ordered.

Seonghwa wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or mortified as he turned his back towards you. You bend him over the sink, taking in the sight of the tail coming from his ass. He winced and huffed softly as the plug buzzed inside him. It was enough to pleasure him a little, but not deep enough to actually do something.

‘’Shall we move to the bedroom before we start anything, dear?’’ Seonghwa nodded and followed you to your shared bedroom. You were quick to push him to the floor, making him sit on his knees. ‘’Stay there,’’ you ordered him. He nodded and waited patiently as you took a little box out of your closet.

You pulled out a long pink leash, which you attached to his collar. He swallowed thickly as you did so, dick twitching at all the thought of what you’d do to him. His skin was already lightly sweaty from the hot temperature in the room. Many people thought sex in summer was too challenging, too tiresome, too hot, but it only riled Seonghwa up more and more to fuck as long as you possibly could until you both passed out at the end.

‘’Can you put on your high heels, mommy?’’ he asked politely as he watched you undress. You smiled and nodded. You were left in your black lingerie, making Seonghwa nearly drool at the sight. You put on your expensive black high heels. He adored it when you made him feel like you owned him, like you had all the power.

‘’Have you been a bit of a bad kitty, Seonghwa? Playing with yourself, stuffing your little ass all alone in the bathroom? That is not how we do things, now do we?’’ you said as you leaned into him, nearly pressing your breasts right into his face. It took everything in his power not to dive right into your bra but he composed himself, obeying you. He was not a brat.

‘’I’m sorry, I just wanted to surprise you,’’ he whispered underneath his breath. ‘’Well, you know you’re getting a little punishment, Seonghwa, you’ll do as I say, hm? You’ll take it, am I clear?’’ ‘’Yes mommy,’’ he breathed out.  ‘’Good.’’

You took ahold of the leash, slightly pulling it up so Seonghwa had no choice but to look you into the eyes. He whimpered slightly when he felt your heel on the underside of his length. He bit his lip so hard it nearly bled. You pressed your entire shoe down on him now, the pointy tip pressing onto his sensitive cock.

‘’Such a bad little kitten, hm?’’ you smirked as he winced. ‘’Yes mommy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good,’’ he moaned. This reminded you the plug was still buzzing inside him. ‘’Turn that thing off,’’ you commanded, and so he did. You pressed down harder on his cock, making him moan. ‘’You like that, huh? Dirty little kitty,’’ you smirked.

With a slight movement you moved your heel down more, repeatedly pressing down on his erect, leaking cock. ‘’Mommy!’’ he cried out as the pre-cum drizzled from his tip onto the black shiny leather covering your foot.

You pulled your foot off of him and lowered yourself so you were on eye-level with him. He looked into your eyes, his big brown pleading eyes begging for pleasure, but you were going to play with him for just a little bit longer. You raised your hand and let it swing across his painfully hard cock, making him yelp.

‘’M-Mommy, no,’’ he whined as you repeatedly slapped his rigid cock, turning your boyfriend into a moaning mess, shivering and breathing heavily until his white seeds suddenly spurted all over his abs, surprising the both of you. ‘’Did you just come from that, my dirty kitty?’’

‘’I-I couldn’t take it anymore, mommy,’’ he cried out, tears flooding his eyes. You laid your hand on Seonghwa’s soft cheek. He leaned into your palm instantly as he panted out. ‘’It’s okay, precious, now don’t cry, mommy’s got you, get onto the bed now okay?’’ Seonghwa nodded and got up, sitting on the bed on his knees.

‘’Are you gonna eat mommy’s wet pussy now? Seeing you like this turned mommy on so much, precious,’’ you smirked. Seonghwa nodded eagerly and clenched around the plug just at the thought of him drinking your juices. ‘’Yes, please, let me,’’ he nodded.

You got on the bed with him after taking the leash off his collar , down on all fours, the way you knew he liked it. His hands roamed over your ass and the back of your thighs before sliding your panties down, carefully taking them off and laying them at the foot of the bed. Afterwards he unclasped your bra, helping you to take it off as well. He positioned himself behind your again, hands grabbing onto your butt before sliding his tongue between your folds, tasting your sweet juices.

He slowly slid his tongue into your wet hole, making you moan out loud. Seonghwa fucked your hole with his long tongue, reaching sacred sweet spots that made your toes curl as he fixated on licking and hitting them repeatedly with his wet muscle. He ate your pussy like there was no tomorrow, slurpring every juice he could possibly get into his mouth.

‘’Such a good fucking kitty, do you wanna fuck me now, baby? Do you wanna fuck mommy’s pussy?’’ ‘’Yes, mommy, please,’’ he whined softly. ‘’Yeah? Come on then, breed mommy’s pussy like a good boy, my precious good boy, hm? Breed me, give me all of your kittens baby,’’ you moaned as he slid his hard cock between your folds, pushing against your clit briefly.

Seonghwa slid his dick inside your pussy with ease, making both you and himself moan out loud. He started off slow, sliding his dick out and all the way back into you, reaching so far inside you there was no more space left between you two. ‘’More, fuck,’’ you panted. Seonghwa’s hands held onto your hips, pulling you towards him as he bucked his hips into you, making you feel fuller than ever.

‘’Put that thing on again, precious,’’ you breathed, realizing he still had his tail plug inside his hole. Seonghwa wasted no time and turned it on immediately, sighing as he felt the familiar buzzing inside him again. His hips shuddered as he fucked you faster, moaning out loudly. ‘’You’re so wet for me mommy, so fucking wet for kitty’s cock,’’ he grunted. Seonghwa closed his eyes as he threw his head back, lost in his pleasure. ‘’Yeah, baby, so wet for you, I love it when you fill me up baby, give me everything!’’ ‘’Yes, yes mommy, I’ll give you everything, give you fucking everything I got, gonna fuck you so good and give you all my cum, all of me!’’

Seonghwa’s hips moved faster, harder and he pounded you hard into the matrass, leaving you breathless in seconds. ‘’Yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!’’ you cried out as you encouraged him to go faster. Seonghwa rutted into you like never before, he felt like he was someone else, like he was guided by a higher power. He felt like he was meant to fuck you, meant to breed you full of his cum.

‘’Please, mommy I gotta cum, gotta fucking put all of my cum inside you,’’ he whined loudly as his thrusts got sloppier. ‘’Yeah baby, fill mommy’s cunt up, fill me up,’’ you cried as you gripped onto the sheets tightly, so tight your knuckles nearly turned white. After a few last thrusts Seonghwa’s hips stilled as his cock pumped all of his seeds inside you. He moaned loudly as he felt you clench around him, milking him dry. He pulled his cock out of you, staying hard nonetheless. You rolled onto your back, revealing your fucked out, messy face. Even when you were in charge he still turned you into the greatest mess.

‘’Once more, precious, make mommy cum on your cock as you fill me up again, sweetie,’’ you whined, spreading your legs for him. ‘’Yes, please, want mommy’s pussy,’’ he grunted before pushing in again. You both whined at the sensitivity, the sensation of your warmth nearly too much. Sweat gushed from his forehead as he moved inside you again, fucking you at an inhumane pace. ‘’Yes, baby, fuck my pussy, fuck mommy’s pussy, put all of your cum inside me,’’ you moaned, barely remembering what you were even saying to him.

You turned into a moaning mess as his dick was just too good, and in no time your orgasm washed over you, startling you as your body shook and trembled, pussy clenching onto him tightly, as if it didn’t want him to slide out of you again. He kept fucking and fucking until you could barely remember your own name, panting loudly as his hips stilled again. Seonghwa released his new load into your cunt with a long, loud moan. He rode out both your orgasms before laying down next to you, completely spent.

But you weren’t done yet.

You wasted no time getting on his lap, sinking down onto his length, letting him fill you up all over again. ‘’M-Mommy, please, t-too much!’’ he moaned as you started bouncing on him. ‘’N-No, you’re gonna take it, you’re gonna give all of it to me, kitty, give me all of you!’’ you moaned loudly. Your hands roamed his body, eager to wrap all around him as you fucked him roughly.

‘’M-Mommy, more! Oh my god, Oh god, fuck me, fuck me,’’ he breathed as his hands held your hips tight. You grinded down on his cock, his pelvis rubbing your clit. You nearly screamed his name as you moved into each other. ‘’S-Seonghwa, Seonghwa, please, fill mommy’s cunt, give me more, breed me, fucking breed me like a good fucking kitty!’’ you screamed.

You rode him until you were out of breath, having to slow down, but Seonghwa held onto your hips and bucked up into you, fucking you from below. He fucked you for what felt like hours, making both you and himself into a sweaty, dirty mess. ‘’Please, please, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, please cum with me, Hwa, please cum for mommy!’’ you cried, shaking around him. ‘’Yes! Please, gonna fill mommy up so well, gonna give mommy all my fucking cum!’’ he moaned before releasing inside you again, sending you over the edge again as well.

You fell onto his chest as you both panted loudly, trying to recover from the overwhelming orgasms. You kept him safely inside you, safely wrapped in your arms. You didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to say a word, you just laid there together, dozing off and sleeping as time faded away.

#kpop #ateez #smut #seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #sub hwa is so cute #sub seonghwa

[mychlapci]

Orion pax stripper / slut era?

We have Ratchet’s slut era, and everybody loves the dear ol party ambulance, i’d suck his spike and say sorry if he begged for more.

But back to my baby orion pax. In multiple universes optimus has some slutty ass waist, him and Ratchet have known eachother for a lonng time. Tfp and bayverse have basically been competing on the daily for who’s prime has a sluttier waist, who would look better full of bitties, who’s matrix is more annoying. Blah blah blah.

The one thing they have in common is that the REASON of the sluttiest waist known to Cybertronian kind is that Orion Pax was a stripper.

Megatronus and his buddies walking into a club vaguely disguised as a bar in downtown kaon. Taken offguard to see the sweet, innocent and helpful Orion pax not hesitating to have his gorgeous, but quite small titties on display to an entire club of drunks, walking through crowds and he looks fabulous, each titty pierced through with tiny golden piercings in an X position, thin golden chains looping each corner, only his valve out and pierced with shiny, multicoloured piercings that glimmer separately when the club’s lighting changes colour or brightness, it puts some colouration to the greyish-blue mesh, a thick loop piercing through his node, dribbles of Lubricant rolling in thick beads down his thighs, it doesnt deter him because he knows he looks fabulous

He’s slipping round drunk mech and femme alike, ignoring groping hands as he moved with such fluidity. His armour was much slimmer then any of the gladiators remembered, despite how he’d saw them a little less then a week ago, biolights running up his stomach from his hips, ending at where his titties meet his chest, Absolutely covered head to toe in glitter, maybe some shanix tucked between the armour he does have on, showing how well his curves suit this job.

Megatronus and (probably) soundwave are even more surprised when it turns out he works here on weekends, completely sober and willing, One part is because he absolutely loves showing his frame off, the second part is so he can keep an eye on the biggest whore on Cybertron *cough cough* Ratchet *cough cough* so he doesn’t get himself kidnapped and drugged in an alley way, also it pays well and times are hard!

The matrix just seems to make everything worse but better at the same time, so its a win/win for Optimus.

oh my god yes. slut era Orion Pax should be talked about more. And slut era TFP Orion? So brave. But hey, I mean, if he's friends with the ol' party ambulance then they've gotta have something in common, and frequenting trashy clubs can absolutely be one of them!

Megatron and his gladiator buddies walk into a club and get hit with a full-face of Orion Pax titties. He's surprised to see them but ultimately, Orion's a professional. He gracefully sits up on their table, pretty hips propped up, and they can see the intricate, almost hypnotic patterns painted onto his soft, perky tits in great detail. Shy, polite Orion from the archives shifts a little on top of the table and they can see that his valve panel is open, the pretty piercings tempting Megatronus to just touch 'em and pull. Maybe then he'd get to see Orion blush, if being bared in a dark bar full of strangers won't.

Clearly he's enjoying himself too, his node twitching and valve wet, grinning dumbly when people call him over to tuck shanix into the inseams of his hip plating, groping his frame with reckless abandon. Orion just playfully shakes their hands off of him, and keeps moving through the club to entertain the rest of the horny drunks. 

Oron giving Megatronus a dance, all in good fun, but there's a hint of a flush on his face-plate as he rocks his hips, all of Megatronus' friends watching, staring, wanting to have a piece, rough, battle-worn hands itching to touch that soft, polished plating and give it a squeeze. Orion wouldn't let them. Megatronus wouldn't let them.

#valveplug #yeag. Yeah #aand then orion has to end the dance because he realized ratchet's gone which means he's gotta go stop him from doing something he'll regre #boobdayforever

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

The jedi archives rule II

Due to unfortunate events the rules have been updated, to go alongside this message, Master Fisto's hunt and subsequent funeral will be streamed in channel 4 of the temple at around the 17th hour of todays rotation.

(I warned you all but you didn't listen to me, now Master Fisto has to pay for his actions, may his foolishness serve as a reminder that Madam Nu is serious with her warnings)

The first part of the rules shall be uploaded here.

Please read them so you do not break any rules in a way that better be an accident.

Food is vehemently forbiden from coming near the archives, (we do NOT need another infestation)

Clones please ask for an archive credential at the main desk

Datapads can no longer leave the archives for longer than two days

You cannot take out more than five datapas per time

Clones are not allowed to take out datapads in the place of ANY jedi

No not padawans either

Cleaning crew is now to be acompanied by any helper

I do NOT want any patient hiding amongs them

Like for force sake really?? Do you have any idea how hard it is to deal with an angry healer???

Knight Skywalker please keep your...meetings with Senator Amidala out of the archives

Oh please who cares if I call him out? Everyone knows, we're just being nice

Knight Skywalker, Master Vos's rule now applies to you too

Padawan Kestis and any younglings or padawans of his size, please refrain from napping inside the datapad carts

I doubt any of you will find sleeping in the old archives comfortable

And we do no need an entire legion of clones almost tearing the temple apart to find you

Disapointingly this now also aplies to anyone small enough to get inside a datapad cart

THERE ARE KRIFFING SLEEPING CHAMBERS ALREADY!!

IF YOU MANIACS WON'T EVEN USE THEM THEN WHAT IT THE POINT??!

Slimy users of the archives, I have nothing against any of you, but please, for anything that is mighty, use the designated areas for you

Practive equipment is now banned from the archives

Blasters are now banned from the archive

Lightsabes are now banned from the archives

Knight Offee, Padawan Tano, Master Fisto, Master Yoda-

We shall now be conducting searches in specified padawans, knights and masters (You know who you are)

What is wrong with all of you???

Off duty Temple Guards, please I must insist and remind you that you must wear bells while in the archives

If I find the fucker who scared me last night it will be on kriffing sight!

Master Yoda you are formally banned until you apologize from bringing LIVE animals for lunch

It is not permited to make the datapads float with the force

Apologies Master Sinube I understand it's comfortable but after many have damaged datapas doing this we cannot allow it anymore

We must ask any species who uses echolocation to please ask for help to guide you in the archives

We can't afford 50% of the datapads shattering again, please

It has also been brought to our attention that Knight Skywalker's datapad suffered as much if not more than Master Kenobi's did but that he managed to fix them befor ereturning them

I'm not even mad, I'm actually impressed, Knight Skywalker, if you could drop by from time to time to aid in the fixing of the datapads we would apreciate it

....Fine and in return we will allow Master Kenobi to take out datapads again

Youngling Grogu is not allowed back in the archive until he returns the things he took

Yes I know they are shiny and he liked them, but we still need all of that, may I remind you all he tried to steal the archives core??? Just cause i was shiny and ball shaped!!!

There are now snack jars in the front desk for whenever Grisser comes, please give one to him if you see him

Master Windu please remind your troopers that you are the example of what NOT to do, when taking a datapad from the archives

Again permanently banned members must NOT enter the archives

Do you really want Madam Nu to take her riffle out? 

Really?

Formal protocol for when Madam Nu takes her rifle out shall be sent to your personal comms in an hour

On a last note, if you fill this rules are targeted and personal, it's because they are :)

Sincerily Master Astar 

Take that Skywalker

#star wars #the clone wars #jedi #jedi temple #jedi appreciation #jedi library #mace windu #clone troopers #the clones #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #yoda #grogu #madam nu #grizzer #kit fisto #kal kestis #temple guard

[cosmerelists]

Ranking Cosmere Planets By How Cool I Find Them

[Contains spoilers for all Cosmere! I'll list the books in the title so you can skip the ones relating to books you haven't read]

The Cosmere has some very cool planets: but which are the coolest? In this list, I will rank them by my own definition of cool, which I'm defining here as "Planets where my interest in past or future stories is chiefly driven by the nature of the world itself."

#13: UTol (From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter; this entry also contains a spoiler from The Sunlit Man)

UTol is the sky planet that Painter can see from the surface of his world, Komashi, and we get a glimpse of it just right at the end of Yumi. It's also possible we get a glimpse of the same world right at the end of The Sunlit Man, but I don't think that's confirmed. Anyway. It's an ocean world, and the inhabitants have four arms and may have originally been from Yolen. But we don't learn anything cool about the world itself, really. I guess the fact that it can always be seen even through the shroud that otherwise blankets Komashi--that's cool. But I don't know if that's UTol's doing. Maybe when we get more info, it will turn out this planet is super ultra cool and then I will look like a fool. But for now--eh. Oceans. With water? Yawn.

#12: First of Sun (From "Sixth of Dusk")

First of Sun is a hostile world with jungles and oceans and magic birds. It's cool--as all Cosmere worlds are in my opinion--but none of it had any special, extra coolness for me. I suppose I've never been much interested in parrots, and also its only feature story so far was quite short.

#11: Braize (From Stormlight Archives; this entry also contains a spoiler from The Sunlit Man)

I am legitimately curious about Braize, Roshar's "Hell" where the Fused were imprisoned by the Heralds. Like, what is Hell like in a material sense? I want someone to visit it (and I really want to know if Sigzil has been there himself, based on his mentioning a Hell visit during The Sunlit Man), and my curiosity makes it seem more cool. But not too cool, because for all we know, Braize is super boring. We just don't have enough info yet.

#10: Nalthis (From "Warbreaker")

Nalthis has some interesting things going on, planetarily. People don't always properly die, which anyone who cheated and already looked at my #1 planet already knows is something I enjoy. It has some unique cultures, which is also something I enjoy in a Sanderson world, although the differences are painted in pretty broad strokes. It's colorful. I don't know. I'm not super into Nalthis, but it definitely has some cool aspects.

#9: Taldain (From White Sand)

I have a shocking confession that I forgot to include in my authorial confessions list: I haven't actually read White Sand. At least, not more than a few pages before I got frustrated with how hard it was to read it on my phone, which is where I had access to it. Anyway. I do think the general set up of this planet is legitimately cool: tidal-locked, I think, with a Dayside and a Nightside which each have their own magic system. There's a lot of sand. Water matters. I think there are magic tattoos. So I can't rank this too highly myself simply because I don't actually know much about it, but it does seem "Top 10" cool.

#8: Scadrial (From Mistborn)

Scadrial has an advantage because it has Time Periods, and really is a pretty different world in Era 1 vs. Era 2. I have a dark fascination with Era 1 Scadrial: the ashfalls, the mist, the slow but inevitable apocalypse constantly creeping closer...would NOT want to visit, but it's cool to read about. Era 2 Scadrial is bright and shiny in comparison. I'm not much of a Wild West gal myself, but there are giraffes, and that ups any planet's coolness, even if it has lost its brooding volcanos. Oh! And I hope we hear more about the Southern Scadrians too.

#7: Sel (From Elantris and The Emperor's Soul)

I've been trying to judge these planets based on the planets themselves rather than on their magic systems...but on Sel, can you really separate those? The magic is based on geography, after all! Anyway, I like Sel because of the wild things going on with its pooled investiture. I don't understand computer programming and so I may or may not really get its magic, but I like the fact that it ranges from the stately, sometimes assholish Elantrians to Soul Stamping. It's all very cool.

#6: Lumar (From Tress of the Emerald Sea)

Lumar is very cool. Like, color-based aether seas that each react differently to water? Rain as a deadly but necessary thing? The color borders where one aether sea meets another? Sailing on something other than water?? I ate it all up. Tress's world is wild and creative and definitely lots of fun.

#5: Roshar (From Stormlight Archives)

It's hard to separate Roshar the planet from the people and stories there, as I think it's the Cosmere planet I've spent the most time on, metaphorically speaking. But I gotta say, the idea of a constant, world-spanning storm that spits out magic and death--that's cool. A whole world that's inhabited only by crab-versions of things? Well, I hesitate to call that cool exactly, but it is...something. Plus, so many different cultures and religions and ideas on Roshar, which I really enjoy.

#4: Canticle (From The Sunlit Man)

Listen, I love Threnodites. Wherever they pop up, they are doing wild things and refusing to properly die and having names that are...let's say unique. And Canticle is quite the interesting planet. Imagine--not being able to stay in one place because you're constantly fleeing from the deadly sun while trying not to get too far ahead lest to stray into the constant fire tornado. Imagine powering your ships with dead-people batteries and doing engineering with your captive ghost engineers. The place is tiny and super invested and also an incandescent lightbulb or something. Again, I would NOT want to visit but that world is damn cool.

#3: Komashi (From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

I think my love of Threnody really affects these top picks. Komashi doesn't have Threnodites, but it does have the weird creepy shadow monsters which I apparently...love? (Learning much about myself writing this.) But in all seriousness, I really like Komashi and I am so curious about it. The idea of Virtuosity and how she manifests as both magical paintings and magical rock stacking. I am so curious about the magenta and cyan coloring and how Sanderson says its based on printers somehow and that yes there is one color missing (what??). The way the inhabitants just lived in a thick shadow sludge with lights creating small habitable zones...like, again, horrifying but such a cool and creative world to explore.

#2: Yolen (No books so far)

Maybe Yolen is super boring. But it is SO mysterious that it can't help but be cool. I mean, this is where the Shattering happened! I think it's where Hoid is from. I think there are dragons. It's just gotta be cool, right?

#1: Threnody (From Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell)

But my favorite planet, for whatever reason, is Threnody. I am dying for another story set on that planet. I am so curious about what the Evil is, and I want to hear more about the people living in the literal Forests of Hell. The Shadows and the rules that you have to follow to survive them, the use of silver, the fact that Threnodites just can't catch a fucking break. I am fascinated by all of it, and I think that Threnody is the coolest planet in the Cosmere.

#cosmere #cosmerelists

[soracities]

—Maria Michela Sassi, "Can we hope to understand how the Greeks saw their world?" (pub. Aeon) [ID in ALT]

#q #lit #quotes #articles #maria michela sassi #aeon #how the greeks saw colour #i dream in blue #oh shiny archive #m #x

[stellaluna33]

The second chapter of Smells Like School Spirit is up on AO3!

Jess’s head popped up again and he stared hard.  “Is that… Did you just play the opening to Enter Sandman on the weight rack?!”

“Ding ding ding!  Shiny gold star for you!  I knew you would recognize that one.”

“Huh.”

“What, you think I don't know Metallica?”

“No no, it's just that metal's not your usual oeuvre, that's all.”

Lane's face contorted with disbelief, disdain, and barely suppressed glee.  

“‘Not my usual oeuvre?’” she repeated with slow incredulity.  “I'm sorry… Did you just seriously use the word ‘oeuvre’ in a conversation?”

The tips of Jess's ears burned red.  “Yeah, so?” he said defensively.

“OH my G-d!” Lane jeered.  “You are such a NERD!  So that's why Rory likes you.”

#Gilmore Girls #Fanfiction #Lane Kim #Jess Mariano #Smells Like School Spirit

[hardly-an-escape]

In the February Sun

Square: D2 - Mistaken for a Couple Rating: T Word Count: 2671 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, Valentine’s Day, mistaken for a couple, Dream is soft and a little bit needy, Dream is allowed to be kind of obsessed with Hob as a treat, first kiss, getting together, tooth rotting fluff, this took forever partly because Dream’s POV is (unsurprisingly) ding dang hard to write, the feelings are requited they’re just idiots, they’re sort of starring in their own weird romance novel Summary: Dream visits the Waking World, not realizing that it's Valentine's Day. After multiple people assume he and Hob are a couple, an emotional reckoning is required. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo

Of late he finds his own gaze lingering on Hob’s shoulders. His hands. Dream’s thoughts have turned, in his few idle hours, to the timbre of Hob’s voice and the smile lines around his eyes. He has allowed himself. To imagine Hob’s fingers, interlaced with his own. How that smile might feel, were it to be employed against his skin. How Hob’s skin might feel. He should, perhaps, feel embarrassed by these flights of fancy. Instead he is only exhilarated.

---

Dream steps into the Waking World on what he thinks is a random sunny Tuesday and is immediately bumped into by a starry-eyed young man clutching an enormous bouquet of flowers.

“Oh gosh, sorry! I was so not looking where I was going,” he laughs. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Ah. Valentine’s Day. Dream looks around, notes the shiny hearts in the shop windows and the unusual number of roses and boxes of chocolate being carried around. He dips into the dreams of the people around him: candlelit dinners and first kisses. Well-worn lovers and the thrill of new romance. Sex and wine and sweetness and love.

The emotion is. Tantalizing. Heady. Almost overwhelming.

Dream walks slowly along the river toward the New Inn, savoring the sunshine and the wisps of romantic daydreams. He had intended to drop in on Hob this afternoon, as he does more frequently these days. Had intended to savor a few hours’ worth of his company and his warm, welcoming smile. But now he is unsure.

Hob feels… complicated. He’s known for some time that Hob finds him attractive. But of late he finds his own gaze lingering on Hob’s shoulders. His hands. Dream’s thoughts have turned, in his few idle hours, to the timbre of Hob’s voice and the smile lines around his eyes. He has allowed himself. To imagine Hob’s fingers, interlaced with his own. How that smile might feel, were it to be employed against his skin. How Hob’s skin might feel. He should, perhaps, feel embarrassed by these flights of fancy.

Instead he is only exhilarated.

Dream can recognize these symptoms in himself, and they worry and thrill him in equal measure. He has been able to hold himself in check, but in the Waking World, on this day of all days, the tendrils of desire and daydreams are winding around the walls of his willpower and bringing it down, brick by brick. His eyes catch on a couple kissing over a sidewalk café table and he feels something inside him catch as well.

Perhaps. It was a mistake to come here. On this day, of all days.

But too late. His steps have brought him to the courtyard of the New Inn. And there is Hob, emerging from the side door marked ‘private,’ which Dream knows from experience leads up to his cozy little flat. And Hob has seen him, is waving and smiling in a way that crinkles the lines around his eyes. Dream’s heart flips over in his chest.

Oh dear.

“Hello, my friend!” Hob is saying. “This is an unexpected surprise. I just finished up my morning classes. I was about to go get a bite to eat, if you want to come with me.”

“If you have no prior engagements,” says Dream.

“Not at all!”

They walk together in the February sun. They talk, of everything and of nothing. This, Dream has learned, is what friends do: they chat about books and television, share little stories from their days. Hob tells him about his students’ shenanigans during a particularly amusing lecture on the Black Death, and Dream tells him about some of Matthew’s recent misadventures.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I would not have thought ravens could get drunk. That’s hysterical.”

Hob’s laughter is a balm, a ray of sunshine, a jolt of caffeine.

They are nearing the café Hob has been steering them toward when a young woman walking in the opposite direction greets him by name.

“Professor Gadling, hi!”

“Hello, Britt, how’s it going?”

“Oh! Well, I actually had a quick question about the homework – sorry, you’re probably on a date, I was going to send an email but would you mind…”

“Of course not, go ahead.”

Britt’s question about Margery Kempe is lost as Dream’s mind circles around that phrase like a cat stalking an unfortunate mouse. You’re probably on a date. Is that – could that be what people see? He and Hob, walking side by side. Talking and smiling. Not touching. But together.

Hob clarifies the reading for the next class and with a cheery “Happy Valentine’s Day, professor!” the girl continues on her way.

Dream and Hob walk for another minute before Dream finds the words to ask.

“You did not disabuse her of her notion?”

“Which notion?”

“That you and I are. On a date.”

“Oh, that,” Hob waves a dismissive hand. “Nah, there’s no point. The undergraduate rumor mill is unstoppable – better to just ignore it. If I’d denied it, it just would have convinced her that we were secretly married or something. Pack of libidinous hyenas, the lot of them.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, was that okay?” asks Hob, suddenly worried. “If it bothers you, that they might think that, I can set the record straight, or try to at least…”

“It matters not,” Dream says.

It matters a great deal, he wants to say. That people could believe it. It matters, that he wants it to be believable, wants it to be true. In a way he has not wanted for a long time.

[Read the rest on AO3...]

green = complete, orange = WIP

#dreamling bingo #my writing #dreamling #the sandman #valentine's day #y'all this started from nothing but I'm weirdly proud of it?? #I got super stalled on it for the better part of a week but here it is!!!

[feiandart]

Feeling the Lord's gaze on him gives him goose bumps. No matter how hard Anthony tries not to think about it, to concentrate on painting and music, the man's presence is impossible to ignore even though he is trying to remain invisible. Anthony finds himself swallowing hard, a lump of air settling at the bottom of his stomach as if it were solid. Breathing deeply, he grabs a fine-tipped paintbrush and dips it begrudgingly into a can of shiny, golden paint: when he returns to the canvas, he outlines the contours of his subjects' lips with a line so subtle as to seem there by chance, an unpremeditated error. He makes the mistake of shifting his attention to Aziraphale, peeking at him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, when the bristles of the brush are still in contact with the painting. That moment is enough to make him notice the fiery gaze that the Lord devotes to him, concentrated despite the distance, as if he hopes to see every smallest detail arise from the artist's skilful gestures. The seriousness in his eyes is enough to make Anthony's knees tremble for an instant, making them unsteady. Oh, God, stop looking at me like that. His left hand trembles as he holds the brush, and without meaning to, the stroke on the canvas smudges, one drop too many falling on the linen: a golden trail starting from the mouth of one of the two subjects, sliding downwards like honey exchanged during the most obscene of kisses. Anthony finds himself observing that mistake with wide eyes. Suddenly it is as if the image comes to life: the two lovers on the canvas move, their mouths meet and collide, hungrily seeking each other; and there are teeth, and there are tongues, and full lips and noses pressing against each other and against each other's cheeks, and Aziraphale's upturned nose brushing against Anthony's skin, his warm breath on the artist's mouth, the taste of his saliva sweetened by the honey of the dessert he ate at lunch, his hands on Anthony's face and then on his chest and hips and - Anthony shakes his head, turns to the cans strewn on the floor and, after tossing his paintbrush somewhere, lets the frenzy coursing through his veins drive him to dip both hands into the petrol-green paint. When he comes back to face the canvas, he brings both hands to the outer areas, left and right, presses his open palms on them and pulls them downwards with anger and a gasp. He squints his eyes as his mind drifts into fantasy, guided by his trembling hands and Aziraphale, his mouth on Anthony's neck, his teeth on the Adam's apple, his breath boiling, his nails clinging to the artist's arms, his breath short, his calls low, his body solid beneath Anthony's and his voice, You've been a good boy, Mr Crowley, and God, Azriel, say it again, say it - He scratches the linen with his fingernails and inevitably pulls off some of the colour he has just applied, scraping the canvas with malice. But he does not regret it. Anthony swallows and sighs deep, finding himself out of breath.

#good omens #good omens art #ineffable husbands #good omens au #gomens #crowley #good omens crowley #anthony j crowley #long hair crowley #good omens fanart #aziracrow #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens human au

[astranite]

Rest

Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.

EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""

A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!

Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.

So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.

@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!

-----

“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper. 

Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.

He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight.  Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it. 

Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott  got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up. 

Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”

Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape. 

“But why, why today?” Scott asked. 

It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?

Virgil sat down by his side. 

“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled. 

Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection. 

Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up. 

What could it be? 

The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department. 

With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil. 

Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record. 

So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal. 

He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was. 

Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up. 

The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it. 

A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it. 

It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil. 

Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”

That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him. 

He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one. 

Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel. 

Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.” 

Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.

Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa. 

He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly. 

Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch. 

“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled. 

The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin. 

Scott was in heaven. 

When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”

Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.

He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet. 

Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book. 

Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently. 

Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people. 

Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it. 

Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet. 

The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because. 

Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket. 

Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep. 

Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares. 

A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.

Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest. 

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