Aaaaaaaaaa~
I have a potential job interview in Croydon, so my mother is now not speaking to me because she thinks i'm going to be stabbed/mugged/rioted on on a daily basis. Or something.
Last night, LJ broke for several minutes and in our desperation a Twitter love-fest erupted on, well, Twitter. I love my Merlin bitches. ♥
I am hopeful there will be more alien questions at the BM today.
The point of this post: fic.
Written for loki_dip's birthday and finally typed up here for the other three people in the universe who know Odyssey 5, I present Balthazar/Kurt Mendell smut fic of epicness.
Title: No Exquisite Sin Greater
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,492
Summary: Balthazar/Kurt Mendell SPN/Odyssey 5 crossover. Balthazar seeks his vessel.
.No Exquisite Sin Greater.
Of all the crap and weird shit going on in his life lately this, Kurt decides blearily, beats everything hands down.
The glowy light show thing declares, “I am Balthazar, Angel of the Lord,” and Kurt tries to remember what fucked up cocktail he must have taken the night before to get this kind of surround-sound shiny, sparkly trip.
“You’re sure you’re not an alien?” Kurt asks, because that’s his second thought after fucked off my face. He should, possibly, be scared, but he’s just woken up and he’s not entirely sure this isn’t some elaborate trick someone’s playing on him. Kurt has always thought it a waste to expend all that energy being scared and running away if you don’t have to.
The glowing ball of light thing seems to pause, like it hadn’t been expecting questions.
“Artificial Intelligence perhaps?” Kurt suggests. He’s an open-minded kind of guy and he gets the impression the light thing doesn’t understand what he’s saying.
“I am an Angel of the Lord,” it repeats, louder than before, the same way that people speaking different languages like to talk to each other because surely just a little more volume and fluency and mutual understanding will magically arise. Kurt doesn’t miss the way his windows and mirrors and picture frames rattle.
Not as harmless as it looks, then. He allows that a small amount of trepidation might be justified.
Kurt considers calling Chuck but he can picture it right now; tell the bastard he’s got an angel of the lord in his apartment, listen to chuck laughing at him on the other end of the line until his head explodes. Or the self-proclaimed angel kills him. Or Chuck chokes on his own tongue. That would serve him right.
So Kurt stays exactly where he is; in bed, mostly naked and with a hangover to rival the one he got when they first came back to Earth and the planet was still there and Kurt was sure there was nothing he could do to make it stay that way.
“Angel,” he repeats, because that’s the main sticking point here.
“Of the Lord,” the light clarifies.
It’s not trying to grab him, or break his arms, or even trying to move any closer from where it hovers at the end of his bed, so Kurt’s not going to encourage it. Or piss it off if he can help it. Kurt knows how crap he is at the diplomacy thing and he wishes one of others were here.
“Okay,” he agrees, and can’t stop himself asking, “Which Lord would that be?”
“Our Father,” the light replies, but doesn’t sound so thrilled about that.
Daddy issues, Kurt thinks, swiftly followed by, What the fuck? because apparently this thing thinks they’re related. At least the glowy thing doesn’t think Kurt’s its mother, because that could get awkward. Then, the light adds, “God. You know. The One who created all things.”
Kurt doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he knows more than a little about physics and evolution and crap thank you very much and this is just fucking hilarious. He laughs. He laughs so hard he kind of wants to vomit, and every time he stops he sees the glowy ball of light right there in front of him and he starts laughing all over again.
“Okay, look,” he finally manages, “I don’t know what you are, and frankly I don’t give a shit, but there is no god. There aren’t any angels, and if you think I’m going to believe that you are seriously misled, my friend.” He pauses. “Except, you know, that one time. But that was mass hallucination and I am not going to be held responsible for any religious faith I might have demonstrated at that time.”
He sounds like a fucking lawyer, Kurt thinks absently. He doesn’t know why he suddenly sounds like a lawyer. This has to be a dream, he decides. Not even his fucked up waking mind could come up with something this surreal and illogical.
“Doubt all you like,” the light says, and Kurt thinks it sounds testy, if a ball of light could sound like anything. “But I am an Angel of the Lord and I know you want me.”
And now what?
“I’ve seen in your heart,” it continues, and Kurt thinks his subconscious has finally snapped. “It cries out for fulfilment. To be saved from loneliness. From a pointless existence.” Somehow, the glowy light manages to convey this message in a bored tone.
“How many times have you tried that speech?” Kurt scoffs, and the self-styled angel pauses. The air it’s made up of glows more brightly in places, moving even when it’s not, and Kurt gets the impression of someone screeching their head. It makes him want to laugh again.
“So,” the light admits, “I’ve never done this before. There isn’t a manual on how to approach your supposed vessel, you know. People think it’s so easy; you just magically find your perfect match or whatever and then they say yes right there and then and that’s it. Earth-body is a go. It was like that before, in the middle ages, but no way was I going to Earth back them. It smelled.”
Kurt shakes his head, trying to work out what the hell any of that was supposed to mean. It makes no sense. Or, about as much sense as time-travelling aliens and fake people and the end of the world, something rebellious and stupid in Kurt’s mind reminds him.
“Vessel?” is what Kurt decides to go with, because that part definitely sounded the most ominous.
“Vessel,” the light affirms. “You. I looked into your soul and it looks like it might be fun.”
Which is a long way from lonely hearts and earthly fulfilment.
“So this is some kind of body-snatcher thing?”
“No,” the light denies, too quickly for Kurt’s comfort. Then says, “Well. Kind of. Maybe a little bit. But you have to agree to let me in.”
“Great,” Kurt says. “Not a fucking chance. Now bugger off back to wherever you came from.”
“Heaven,” the glowy thing tells him.
Of course he comes from Heaven. He’s an angel. Right.
“Sorry about all this,” the glowy thing says, “But I really must insist. I can show you things-”
“Oh honey,” Kurt cuts in pityingly, “I doubt you could. As far as I can see you don’t even have a body.”
“I could show you the universe-”
“Is this where we break into song?” Kurt interrupts again.
“I can save your world.”
For that Kurt has no reply.
This really is just some fucked up dream, he tells himself, even if his bed feels as cold and soft as it always does. The clock in the kitchen is ticking the same way it always does and Kurt can hear the sound of passing cars outside the window. Neighbours opening and closing doors. The elevator humming. It’s so normal.
“And why would it need saving?” Kurt asks. He’s humouring this thing to find out what it knows. He’s not considering this. He’s not hoping.
It’s like the light laughs, but its amusement is more in the way it moves, or pulses than any sound it makes. “I know what you’re fighting for,” it says. “I know why you won’t succeed.”
“Then you’re here to stop it?” Kurt asks cautiously, disbelieving. There is no god, of that Kurt is sure, and even if there were what would an omnipotent being care what happened to a species of creatures who couldn’t even stop trying to destroy themselves?
“Not really,” the light admits. “But I could do. We could do a deal. I’ll stop what you’ve foreseen, you be my vessel for a couple of hundred years. Simple.”
“How do I know you can do it? How can I trust you? You could be one of them.” It’s not like Kurt believes it’s an angel, but if it does have that kind of power then Kurt wants to know about it.
“I’m not,” the light says simply, and Kurt doesn’t know why but he believes it.
“You believe it,” the glowy thing says, “Because you are my vessel.”
Like that explains everything. The weird thing though- the thing Kurt doesn’t get- is that he does believe that this thing can save them. But he loved living and being himself and having sex and he kind of liked the other freaks he’s become sort-of-friends with since this whole saving the Earth thing started.
“We can still do all those things,” the light says, and Kurt gets the impression it wants to. He doesn’t miss the fact it just read his mind either. Kurt has to be sure.
“What things?”
“Sex. Drugs. Alcohol.”
“Not very angelic,” Kurt points out.
“You humans have the wrong idea about us,” the light says. “Anyway, things are different now.”
Because that isn’t fucking ominous, Kurt thinks.
“Different how?” he asks suspiciously.
“It makes no difference to you,” the glowy thing deflects. “I’ve got things to do. Things to see. I can save you from your alien invasion. Just say yes.”
“Do I get a money back guarantee?” Kurt scoffs. “Vessel implies I get no say in what we do, so how do I know you won’t screw me over?”
Kurt can’t believe he’s actually contemplating this. It’s just really hard not to wonder; if he could actually save the world, if maybe he can control this angel thing and take all that power for himself. If maybe he wants to let go, to not be responsible for anything anymore. Something inside him- that healthy paranoia he’s been blessed with all his life- tells him this is all bullshit and somehow this thing is controlling his mind; making him want to say yes. But if it had so much power, Kurt thinks, why would it go to all this trouble? Why not just take?
“No guarantees,” the light says and for some reason that makes Kurt believe it all the more.
It moves closer and Kurt can feel the hot-cold of its presence spreading across his legs, sliding over his skin like its crawling over him right up to his face. The light has no face of its own, no lips to speak with and no ears to hear and no eyes to see, but somehow Kurt knows they’re there. “We could do this like demons,” the light says, without saying a word. No sound. It’s thought, in his head, Kurt realises, and curses himself for being a hungover fucking idiot and not realising this before.
It’s bright and this close- so close its light prickles across the skin of his cheeks- Kurt thinks it should be blinding but it’s not. It fills his vision and all Kurt can see is Angel. Fucking, actual Angel. Motion. Memory. Fucking wings.
“Like- demons do?” Kurt swallows. It’s impossible to understand what he’s seeing but he knows he’s seeing something real and true and really fucking weird.
The light is like a caress over his chest, down his arms. It wants. It longs to know flesh and that is one thing Kurt is an expert on.
“They touch lips. To seal the deal, as humans say. We could do that.”
And angel, Kurt thinks incredulously, wants to make out with him. He’s always known he was good but he never realised before just how good.
“And more,” the angel offers. “We can do more.”
It’s watching him, his every move and thought. It’s gauging his interest, Kurt can tell. He can feel this thing in his head, its thoughts running through him and it’s more intimate than anything Kurt has ever felt before. Every thought he has the light Is there with him, telling him what he wants to hear, telling him he understands, telling him he wants that too. The light knows everything there is to know about him and loves all of it.
“I can fill you up,” it says and it’s amused, knows exactly what it’s insinuating. “We appreciate the same things.” Its light is like tendrils of heat across Kurt’s thighs, all along his naked chest. “We would be good together. Perfect together.”
Kurt’s breath speeds up as the light slides down his back, touches his cock, wrapping around it like lips and hands and tongue all at once. This is pleasure.
“You’re trying to bribe me-“ Kurt pants, but lays back into the light’s hold, lets it do what it wants because it’s so fucking good. “Bribe me with sex,” he somehow manages to finish.
His whole body is tingling and its laughter, Kurt realises.
“Is it working?” the light asks, and its soundless voice sounds gleeful, warm, smug.
“Maybe,” Kurt admits. Its working him fast and he’s not going to last long because its touch is everywhere- hands, tongues, cool, hot, wet, dry- all of it. All over. Kurt thinks that if he could bottle this shit he would be a very rich man indeed.
“Say yes,” it says. “Say yes and we’ll save the world. And have lots of sex.”
“With other angels?” Kurt’s wondering if this is angel sex he’s having now, and what it’d be like to do this instead of just having this done to you. To have this kind of power and control to touch and feel. It’s so fucking good it almost hurts.
“If I can,” it assures him.
Kurt sees angels, other vessels, other places, other times. He seems them as light and shadow and warriors and he sees this angel- Balthazar, it tells him, speaking its own name like a soft whisper in his soul- wants it all. Wants them all.
Kurt knows there has to be a catch. He knows this won’t end well but as Balthazar pulls and sucks and fucks him and is fucked by him Kurt finds himself saying, “Yes. Fuck yes,” if only to have this again.
Lips that aren’t lips touch his mouth and Balthazar really wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fill him up. It’s like drowning in oxygen, making his head light, dizzy, high as a fucking kite. Kurt can’t breathe and Balthazar caresses him, “You don’t need to.”
This, Kurt realises, is the last thing he’s going to know for a very long time. Maybe forever, so he gathers himself enough to tell Balthazar, “You don’t forget, Angel. You save my friends. You save this shitty world.”
It takes everything to hold onto cohesive thought when all you want to do is come your brains out. But Kurt lasts long enough to hear, to understand, because now Balthazar is deep inside him, pouring pleasure and otherness into every corner of Kurt’s body and every pore of his body, “I will.”
Then, for the last time Kurt Mendell comes, and for the first time the angel Balthazar feels pleasure as a human does.
.END.
Comments and concrit- though this is perhaps too cracky for srs concrit- most welcome and appreciated. ♥
I am still taking requests for fic here!
Last night, LJ broke for several minutes and in our desperation a Twitter love-fest erupted on, well, Twitter. I love my Merlin bitches. ♥
I am hopeful there will be more alien questions at the BM today.
The point of this post: fic.
Written for loki_dip's birthday and finally typed up here for the other three people in the universe who know Odyssey 5, I present Balthazar/Kurt Mendell smut fic of epicness.
Title: No Exquisite Sin Greater
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,492
Summary: Balthazar/Kurt Mendell SPN/Odyssey 5 crossover. Balthazar seeks his vessel.
.No Exquisite Sin Greater.
Of all the crap and weird shit going on in his life lately this, Kurt decides blearily, beats everything hands down.
The glowy light show thing declares, “I am Balthazar, Angel of the Lord,” and Kurt tries to remember what fucked up cocktail he must have taken the night before to get this kind of surround-sound shiny, sparkly trip.
“You’re sure you’re not an alien?” Kurt asks, because that’s his second thought after fucked off my face. He should, possibly, be scared, but he’s just woken up and he’s not entirely sure this isn’t some elaborate trick someone’s playing on him. Kurt has always thought it a waste to expend all that energy being scared and running away if you don’t have to.
The glowing ball of light thing seems to pause, like it hadn’t been expecting questions.
“Artificial Intelligence perhaps?” Kurt suggests. He’s an open-minded kind of guy and he gets the impression the light thing doesn’t understand what he’s saying.
“I am an Angel of the Lord,” it repeats, louder than before, the same way that people speaking different languages like to talk to each other because surely just a little more volume and fluency and mutual understanding will magically arise. Kurt doesn’t miss the way his windows and mirrors and picture frames rattle.
Not as harmless as it looks, then. He allows that a small amount of trepidation might be justified.
Kurt considers calling Chuck but he can picture it right now; tell the bastard he’s got an angel of the lord in his apartment, listen to chuck laughing at him on the other end of the line until his head explodes. Or the self-proclaimed angel kills him. Or Chuck chokes on his own tongue. That would serve him right.
So Kurt stays exactly where he is; in bed, mostly naked and with a hangover to rival the one he got when they first came back to Earth and the planet was still there and Kurt was sure there was nothing he could do to make it stay that way.
“Angel,” he repeats, because that’s the main sticking point here.
“Of the Lord,” the light clarifies.
It’s not trying to grab him, or break his arms, or even trying to move any closer from where it hovers at the end of his bed, so Kurt’s not going to encourage it. Or piss it off if he can help it. Kurt knows how crap he is at the diplomacy thing and he wishes one of others were here.
“Okay,” he agrees, and can’t stop himself asking, “Which Lord would that be?”
“Our Father,” the light replies, but doesn’t sound so thrilled about that.
Daddy issues, Kurt thinks, swiftly followed by, What the fuck? because apparently this thing thinks they’re related. At least the glowy thing doesn’t think Kurt’s its mother, because that could get awkward. Then, the light adds, “God. You know. The One who created all things.”
Kurt doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he knows more than a little about physics and evolution and crap thank you very much and this is just fucking hilarious. He laughs. He laughs so hard he kind of wants to vomit, and every time he stops he sees the glowy ball of light right there in front of him and he starts laughing all over again.
“Okay, look,” he finally manages, “I don’t know what you are, and frankly I don’t give a shit, but there is no god. There aren’t any angels, and if you think I’m going to believe that you are seriously misled, my friend.” He pauses. “Except, you know, that one time. But that was mass hallucination and I am not going to be held responsible for any religious faith I might have demonstrated at that time.”
He sounds like a fucking lawyer, Kurt thinks absently. He doesn’t know why he suddenly sounds like a lawyer. This has to be a dream, he decides. Not even his fucked up waking mind could come up with something this surreal and illogical.
“Doubt all you like,” the light says, and Kurt thinks it sounds testy, if a ball of light could sound like anything. “But I am an Angel of the Lord and I know you want me.”
And now what?
“I’ve seen in your heart,” it continues, and Kurt thinks his subconscious has finally snapped. “It cries out for fulfilment. To be saved from loneliness. From a pointless existence.” Somehow, the glowy light manages to convey this message in a bored tone.
“How many times have you tried that speech?” Kurt scoffs, and the self-styled angel pauses. The air it’s made up of glows more brightly in places, moving even when it’s not, and Kurt gets the impression of someone screeching their head. It makes him want to laugh again.
“So,” the light admits, “I’ve never done this before. There isn’t a manual on how to approach your supposed vessel, you know. People think it’s so easy; you just magically find your perfect match or whatever and then they say yes right there and then and that’s it. Earth-body is a go. It was like that before, in the middle ages, but no way was I going to Earth back them. It smelled.”
Kurt shakes his head, trying to work out what the hell any of that was supposed to mean. It makes no sense. Or, about as much sense as time-travelling aliens and fake people and the end of the world, something rebellious and stupid in Kurt’s mind reminds him.
“Vessel?” is what Kurt decides to go with, because that part definitely sounded the most ominous.
“Vessel,” the light affirms. “You. I looked into your soul and it looks like it might be fun.”
Which is a long way from lonely hearts and earthly fulfilment.
“So this is some kind of body-snatcher thing?”
“No,” the light denies, too quickly for Kurt’s comfort. Then says, “Well. Kind of. Maybe a little bit. But you have to agree to let me in.”
“Great,” Kurt says. “Not a fucking chance. Now bugger off back to wherever you came from.”
“Heaven,” the glowy thing tells him.
Of course he comes from Heaven. He’s an angel. Right.
“Sorry about all this,” the glowy thing says, “But I really must insist. I can show you things-”
“Oh honey,” Kurt cuts in pityingly, “I doubt you could. As far as I can see you don’t even have a body.”
“I could show you the universe-”
“Is this where we break into song?” Kurt interrupts again.
“I can save your world.”
For that Kurt has no reply.
This really is just some fucked up dream, he tells himself, even if his bed feels as cold and soft as it always does. The clock in the kitchen is ticking the same way it always does and Kurt can hear the sound of passing cars outside the window. Neighbours opening and closing doors. The elevator humming. It’s so normal.
“And why would it need saving?” Kurt asks. He’s humouring this thing to find out what it knows. He’s not considering this. He’s not hoping.
It’s like the light laughs, but its amusement is more in the way it moves, or pulses than any sound it makes. “I know what you’re fighting for,” it says. “I know why you won’t succeed.”
“Then you’re here to stop it?” Kurt asks cautiously, disbelieving. There is no god, of that Kurt is sure, and even if there were what would an omnipotent being care what happened to a species of creatures who couldn’t even stop trying to destroy themselves?
“Not really,” the light admits. “But I could do. We could do a deal. I’ll stop what you’ve foreseen, you be my vessel for a couple of hundred years. Simple.”
“How do I know you can do it? How can I trust you? You could be one of them.” It’s not like Kurt believes it’s an angel, but if it does have that kind of power then Kurt wants to know about it.
“I’m not,” the light says simply, and Kurt doesn’t know why but he believes it.
“You believe it,” the glowy thing says, “Because you are my vessel.”
Like that explains everything. The weird thing though- the thing Kurt doesn’t get- is that he does believe that this thing can save them. But he loved living and being himself and having sex and he kind of liked the other freaks he’s become sort-of-friends with since this whole saving the Earth thing started.
“We can still do all those things,” the light says, and Kurt gets the impression it wants to. He doesn’t miss the fact it just read his mind either. Kurt has to be sure.
“What things?”
“Sex. Drugs. Alcohol.”
“Not very angelic,” Kurt points out.
“You humans have the wrong idea about us,” the light says. “Anyway, things are different now.”
Because that isn’t fucking ominous, Kurt thinks.
“Different how?” he asks suspiciously.
“It makes no difference to you,” the glowy thing deflects. “I’ve got things to do. Things to see. I can save you from your alien invasion. Just say yes.”
“Do I get a money back guarantee?” Kurt scoffs. “Vessel implies I get no say in what we do, so how do I know you won’t screw me over?”
Kurt can’t believe he’s actually contemplating this. It’s just really hard not to wonder; if he could actually save the world, if maybe he can control this angel thing and take all that power for himself. If maybe he wants to let go, to not be responsible for anything anymore. Something inside him- that healthy paranoia he’s been blessed with all his life- tells him this is all bullshit and somehow this thing is controlling his mind; making him want to say yes. But if it had so much power, Kurt thinks, why would it go to all this trouble? Why not just take?
“No guarantees,” the light says and for some reason that makes Kurt believe it all the more.
It moves closer and Kurt can feel the hot-cold of its presence spreading across his legs, sliding over his skin like its crawling over him right up to his face. The light has no face of its own, no lips to speak with and no ears to hear and no eyes to see, but somehow Kurt knows they’re there. “We could do this like demons,” the light says, without saying a word. No sound. It’s thought, in his head, Kurt realises, and curses himself for being a hungover fucking idiot and not realising this before.
It’s bright and this close- so close its light prickles across the skin of his cheeks- Kurt thinks it should be blinding but it’s not. It fills his vision and all Kurt can see is Angel. Fucking, actual Angel. Motion. Memory. Fucking wings.
“Like- demons do?” Kurt swallows. It’s impossible to understand what he’s seeing but he knows he’s seeing something real and true and really fucking weird.
The light is like a caress over his chest, down his arms. It wants. It longs to know flesh and that is one thing Kurt is an expert on.
“They touch lips. To seal the deal, as humans say. We could do that.”
And angel, Kurt thinks incredulously, wants to make out with him. He’s always known he was good but he never realised before just how good.
“And more,” the angel offers. “We can do more.”
It’s watching him, his every move and thought. It’s gauging his interest, Kurt can tell. He can feel this thing in his head, its thoughts running through him and it’s more intimate than anything Kurt has ever felt before. Every thought he has the light Is there with him, telling him what he wants to hear, telling him he understands, telling him he wants that too. The light knows everything there is to know about him and loves all of it.
“I can fill you up,” it says and it’s amused, knows exactly what it’s insinuating. “We appreciate the same things.” Its light is like tendrils of heat across Kurt’s thighs, all along his naked chest. “We would be good together. Perfect together.”
Kurt’s breath speeds up as the light slides down his back, touches his cock, wrapping around it like lips and hands and tongue all at once. This is pleasure.
“You’re trying to bribe me-“ Kurt pants, but lays back into the light’s hold, lets it do what it wants because it’s so fucking good. “Bribe me with sex,” he somehow manages to finish.
His whole body is tingling and its laughter, Kurt realises.
“Is it working?” the light asks, and its soundless voice sounds gleeful, warm, smug.
“Maybe,” Kurt admits. Its working him fast and he’s not going to last long because its touch is everywhere- hands, tongues, cool, hot, wet, dry- all of it. All over. Kurt thinks that if he could bottle this shit he would be a very rich man indeed.
“Say yes,” it says. “Say yes and we’ll save the world. And have lots of sex.”
“With other angels?” Kurt’s wondering if this is angel sex he’s having now, and what it’d be like to do this instead of just having this done to you. To have this kind of power and control to touch and feel. It’s so fucking good it almost hurts.
“If I can,” it assures him.
Kurt sees angels, other vessels, other places, other times. He seems them as light and shadow and warriors and he sees this angel- Balthazar, it tells him, speaking its own name like a soft whisper in his soul- wants it all. Wants them all.
Kurt knows there has to be a catch. He knows this won’t end well but as Balthazar pulls and sucks and fucks him and is fucked by him Kurt finds himself saying, “Yes. Fuck yes,” if only to have this again.
Lips that aren’t lips touch his mouth and Balthazar really wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fill him up. It’s like drowning in oxygen, making his head light, dizzy, high as a fucking kite. Kurt can’t breathe and Balthazar caresses him, “You don’t need to.”
This, Kurt realises, is the last thing he’s going to know for a very long time. Maybe forever, so he gathers himself enough to tell Balthazar, “You don’t forget, Angel. You save my friends. You save this shitty world.”
It takes everything to hold onto cohesive thought when all you want to do is come your brains out. But Kurt lasts long enough to hear, to understand, because now Balthazar is deep inside him, pouring pleasure and otherness into every corner of Kurt’s body and every pore of his body, “I will.”
Then, for the last time Kurt Mendell comes, and for the first time the angel Balthazar feels pleasure as a human does.
.END.
Comments and concrit- though this is perhaps too cracky for srs concrit- most welcome and appreciated. ♥
I am still taking requests for fic here!