#I hope it's not TOO obvious where this is going

[katedoesntexist]

adding on a personal experience, op i hope you dont mind.

Ive been attacked on the street by strangers who did not act strangely or have unusual ticks. Ive been around strangers on the street who have aggressive verbal and behavioral ticks and been fine. In both of these cases you dont know what someone is going to do, and you dont immediately jump to treating others like criminals out the gate. Thats right, even in the situation where i did get assualted, at first it was just people being people near each other in public. Full stop. There was no "obvious warning signs" or "tells".

But lets focus on my second example, a person who did have a disability and was outwardly acting strangely. Middle aged man, dirty clothes, hiking backpack so looked transient, yelling obscenities the entire time. My partner and i gave a glance then looked back at what we were doing and kept our existing trajectory. The man became fixated on us, and unfortunately it is a concern that an escalation could happen but IT DOES NOT MEAN IT WILL. So we kept him in our periphery and moved along. The yelling became more aggressive and directed at us (idk what he was saying, something about me, something about pussy) but he did not follow us. He did stand and watch us the entire length of a city block until we turned the corner. I was very spooked because due to injury we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves if he did decide to escalate and had a weapon. But if that happened, THAT would be the time to call for help. No sooner. And you know what, he didnt escalate! It was totally fine! Like yeah we got yelled at. Okay, i got yelled at working retail too and I didnt call the cops then.

So my point is, dont judge, dont escalate, be aware of your surroundings, and youll be fine. And what's nice is they'll be fine too.

[Edited to say call for help instead of call authorities]

'Cause people tend to not get the memo: People acting strangely in public is not a danger to you. Pacing, talking to themselves or something you can't see, laughing to themselves, stimming, twitching, ticcing, making "weird" noises--it doesn't fucking matter. They're not your personal freak show, they're not broken, they're not a murderer and they're definitely not going to be fucking helped by you calling the authorities or anyone else on em. These actions alone are not indicative of danger to you, as a random person on the street. Shut the fuck up and move on, leave disabled people alone.

[enwoso]

Hi, would you write a lovie fic where she’s learning how to ride her bike? And in the learning process she takes some tumbles, but in the end she learns it.

BALANCING ACT | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was a sunny day in london, painting the backyard in hues of gold and orange as alessia crouched down, adjusting the pink helmet strap on your chin, to stop it scratching. your wild little curls peeking out from under the helmet and a determined glint in your big blue eyes as you gripped the handlebars of your small pink bike. 

the training wheels had officially came off and alessia's heart was doing an uneven dance between excitement but also worry and dread. 

"you ready then, lovie?" your mummy asked, giving your cheek a gentle squeezed as you looked up a big grin on your face.

you had been begging your mummy for the past few weeks to take the training wheels of your bike telling her you were a big girl and didn't need them anymore and had nothing to do with the fact that all your friends from school were also learning to ride their bikes without training wheels.

"i'm ready!" you declared, your tiny hands tightening on the handlebars as your mummy positioned you so you were facing down the driveway as she silently hoped you were out the way of her car - not wanting it to get scratched.

with a soft smile, alessia placed her hands on the back of the seat, steadying the bike for you. "okay, remember to look ahead and keep pedalling. i've got you." 

you gave her a resolute nod as your face scrunched up in concentration, alessia pushed gently on the back of the seat as she jogged alongside you as the little bike wobbled forward. and for a few glorious seconds, you were actually doing it. the pedals turned and you and the bike seemed to stay upright as you let out a excited giggle.

but then, the inevitable happened. the dread that had lingered in alessia's head happened.

the front wheel veered slightly and you tipped to the side, alessia's hands reached out trying to catch you but it was too late as you tumbled onto the grass on the side of the pavement.

you sat up, your lip quivering as you clutched your scraped knee. "owie" you whimpered, your fingers hovering over the fresh scrape.

"oh, lovie" your mummy cooed, scooping you up into her arms, kissing the top of your head as she brushed a stray tear that had escaped from your cheek, "lets get you inside and patched up!"

alessia carrying you into the kitchen before lifting you onto the counter and rummaged throught a drawer for a box of plaster, ones with a cartoon character of course as in your mind they worked so much better than the boring normal ones. 

your tiny legs swinging back and forth as you watched your mummy carefully clean the scrape with a damp cloth. "does it hurt a lot?" your mummy asked softly, placing the cloth to one side.

"a little" you admitted but your voice wasn't as small as alessia had expected it to be.

"okay, now this plaster is magic" your mummy said with a grin as she peeled of a bright blue strip decorated with cartoon stars, "this will make you all better in no time!"

you gave your mummy an amused look, "magic?" 

"absolutely, doctor mummy guarantees it!" alessia pressed the plaster gently over the scrape, giving it a little pat for good measure. as alessia turned to toss the wrapper away, she heard your little voice, matter of fact and full of determination.

"can we go back outside now?"

alessia froze, blinking as she processed the request, turning back to you as you were already trying to wriggle off the counter, "wait- you want to keep trying?"

"yeah!" your face lit up with a smile as you spoke so full of confidence as if it was the most obvious thing you could have ever said. "i need to learn by myself!"

for a second, alessia just stared at you, a tiny whirlwind of stubbornness and resolve that you were as alessia thought back to her own childhood and how she would always feel more determined after the smallest of failures.

but here you were, your knee scraped most likely still stinging and you were ready to jump back on the bike as if nothing had happened. a big swell of pride filled alessia's chest it was making it ache slightly.

"okay," your mummy said, brushing a small strand of hair out of your face, "let me just grab a bottle of water first. and if you feel tired we stop, okay?"

"ok mummy!" you chirped and already halfway to the door to put your trainers back on after your mummy had dumped them at the front door when she carried you in.

once you both got back outside the sun was lower, as it casted shadows across the grass. alessia steadying the bike once more, her hands firm but gentle on the seat.

"let's try again," this time, alessia could tell something was different. your wobbling was a little less wobbly, your pedalling was a little more confident as then all of a sudden, you didn't need your mummy's hands there to keep you steady.

"thats it! keep doing it!" your mummy cheered as she clapped loudly her voice high with excitement. your face breaking into a wide grin as you realised what was happening. 

you were riding your bike. by yourself.

"im doin' it! mummy! look i can do it!" you cried with excitement as the same small giggles left your lips. alessia clapped her hands, pride radiating from every pore as she jogged beside you. tears pricking at her eyes as she blinked them away, focusing on this moment.

when you finally came to a triumphant stop, as the pavement has ran out, you hopped off the bike, throwing your arms around your mummy's leg as she scooped you up into her arms. "i did it!"

"you did it, lovie!" your mummy murmured, twirling you around with chorus of cheers and laugher, "i'm so so so proud of you!"

you grinned, resting your head on your mummy's shoulder, "you were right the plaster was magic!" you giggled out.

alessia laughed as she held you close as she shook her head, "no baby, your the magic."

in the glow of the setting sun, you rode your bike back home perfectly before leaving it triumphantly in the garage before listing off what you wanted for dinner that nigh as alessia while listening to your list realised she had just witnessed a small but extraordinary moment - your first taste of determination and victory.

[insidekatmind]

Distraction-Brock Rumlow

Your breathing is calm, but your heart beats a little faster than usual. You're used to these missions, living on the edge, but there's something about this situation that feels off. Maybe it's the plan. Or maybe it's the fact that Steve asked you to distract Brock Rumlow, the most unsettling agent you've ever met.

"Y/N, I need you to cover for me. I have to talk to Pierce, and we can't afford for Rumlow to get in the way. You're the only one who can pull this off," Steve said to you, his tone serious but his gaze full of trust.

"Do you have any idea how obsessed he is with me?" you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Exactly why I asked for your help. I need time, and you're the only one who can keep him busy," he replied, a faintly apologetic smile on his lips.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't say no. Steve is your best friend, and you trust him more than anyone else.

Now, here you are, in the hallway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and Brock Rumlow is standing in front of you. He's staring at you with that look that always makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Rumlow," you say with a forced smile, "can I talk to you in private?"

He raises an eyebrow, but a smug grin quickly spreads across his face. "Sure, Y/N. Where do you want to go?"

"Your office. It's important." Your voice is steady, but your stomach churns at the thought of what you're about to do.

He leads you to his office, closing the door behind him. You sit in the chair across from his desk, trying to appear relaxed, but you know you need to keep him occupied for as long as possible.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning forward with a smile that makes you want to punch him.

You improvise. "I was thinking... have you ever considered stepping out of your comfort zone? You know, doing something different with your life?"

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "And what do you have in mind, Y/N?"

"Well," you begin, careful not to let your nerves show, "you're always so... intense. Maybe you should try relaxing, having some fun. You know, not everything has to be about work and missions."

Rumlow looks at you, visibly intrigued. "Interesting. And how do you think I should do that?"

You drag the conversation out as long as possible, talking about improbable hobbies, movies he's never seen, and even suggesting a yoga class, all while your mind stays focused on Steve. How much more time does he need?

Meanwhile, Rumlow seems to be enjoying himself. It's obvious he's too distracted by you to worry about anything else happening elsewhere.

While you continue babbling, Rumlow approaches you like a predator and caresses your cheek, smiling at you. You go abruptly silent when you feel his touch on your cheek. His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle, but his gaze is as intense as ever. "You know," he says, his voice low and playful, "you're quite entertaining when you're not arguing with me." He moves closer to you, his body only inches from yours.

You look at Brock in surprise. "Oh, really?" You whisper, hoping Steve would finish quickly. He grins, seemingly amused by your reaction. His gaze travels from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up.

"Oh, yes." He responds, lifting your chin gently. "You get all flustered, trying to prove a point, and your cheeks flush." His fingers trace your jawline, his touch feather-like. You're hyper-aware of his proximity, and you remind yourself to stay calm, to keep stalling.

"It's kind of adorable," he continues, his voice a soft rumble. "And you have my undivided attention, darling." He leans in even closer, his face just a breath away from yours. His smile is still present, but there's something different in his eyes:a hunger, a desire. Your heart quickens, and you remind yourself once more that you're doing this for Steve. Keep him busy just a little longer.

Smile. “Does the great Brock find me adorable?” you ask getting flirty, you were trying to give Steve as much time as possible. He chuckles, clearly enjoying your change of tone. "Adorable and infuriatingly cheeky," he replies, a hint of amusement in his smirk.

He's so close now, his body almost touching yours. His hand is still on your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your jawline. "You've got quite the mouth on you," he adds, "and right now, I'm rather curious about what other uses you might have for it."

You held back so hard not to slap him and you fake a smile by biting your lip. His gaze darkens as he notices your lip between your teeth, and he moves even closer, his body pressing against yours. "Careful, darling," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep biting your lip like that, and I might get a few ideas of my own." His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail, and you can't help but fidget under his intense scrutiny.

His lips hover just above yours, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "You're so tense," he observes, his body almost trapping you against the chair. "What's the matter, Y/N? Is something bothering you?" His hand slides down from your jaw to your throat, his touch both tender and possessive at the same time.

You gulp involuntarily, the feel of his hand on your throat making your heart pound faster. "No, I'm fine," you manage to say, your voice not nearly as steady as you'd like. He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure?" he purrs, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle on your pulse point. "Because you're shaking."

His words send a shiver through you, and he must feel the effect they have on you, because his grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. "And you're breathing pretty hard," he points out, his gaze locked onto yours. He presses his body against yours, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

His face is just inches from yours, his eyes a deep, dark pool of hunger. "You're usually so feisty, so strong," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. "But right now, you're at my mercy, all flustered and trembling." His hand at your throat moves up to cup your chin again, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I could do anything I want with you like this, darling."

You stopped yourself from slapping again and smiled at him placing your hands on his shoulders moving them sensually. "And do you mind this?" you whisper seductively. His expression darkens with raw lust, and he grips your thigh with his free hand. "No, I don't mind this at all." His voice is low and dangerous, his gaze still locked on yours.

His body is pressed against you, his touch possessive and demanding. "In fact," he continues, pulling your leg up against him, "I like seeing you like this. All hot and bothered, trembling at my touch."

You caress his neck to distract yourself from laughing at his statement. Steve owed you a big favor, you thought. He lets out a low, rumbling sound at your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation. "That feels nice," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded.

He presses you even closer, his body molding against yours. "You know," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "I think I could get addicted to this." Brock slowly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, his touch light and teasing.

"Your skin feels so soft," he continues, his voice growing huskier. "So smooth and inviting." His hand inches higher, moving under your skirt, and his hips grind against yours. "I've been wanting to touch you for so long," he admits, his hand gripping your waist. "Feeling you shiver under my touch, seeing you all flushed and panting."

His lips find their way to your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste your pulse point. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his teeth grazing your skin. "No idea how badly I want to claim you." His hand beneath your skirt moves even higher, his touch burning through you. "I want to mark you, taste you, make you mine."

Close your eyes try to calm your heartbeat with little results. You hated to admit it but his words were turning you on. He chuckles, noticing your reaction. "Can't keep your cool, can you?" he teases, his hand now dangerously close to your center.

"You can't hide it, darling," he murmurs against your skin. "I can feel it, the way your heart is racing, the way you're reacting to my touch." He moves his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble. "You like this, don't you? The feel of my hands on your body, the sound of my voice. You like being at my mercy." "But you won't give in," he continues, shifting so that his body is now fully flushed against yours. "You won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it, will you?" He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing your skin.

"But I know you want me." He whispers, his hand continuing its slow exploration. "You can try to deny it all you want, but I know you're just begging for it right now." He moves his lips down your neck, nipping and biting at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "You're so stubborn, darling," he says, his voice a rough purr. "So determined to resist."

Brock shifts his body, positioning himself between your legs. "But it won't be long now. You're trembling, panting, and I can feel the heat coming off of you." He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, and he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for escape. "Just let go, darling," he whispers, his voice a low, sensual command. "Let me take you over the edge. Give yourself to me."

You gasp softly looking at him. His gaze captures yours, dark and possessive, and he smiles a slow, knowing smile. "There it is," he murmurs. "That gasp. That look in your eyes. That's what I wanted to see." He leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "Admit it, darling. You want me just as badly as I want you." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and almost tender. "You can fight it all you want," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "But at the end of the day, you're mine."

His hips grind against yours, his arousal pressing against you. "And I'm going to make you mine, darling. I'm going to make you beg for it." He's practically pinning you to the chair, his body pressed against yours, his hands everywhere. "I'm going to show you pleasure you've never even imagined before," he promises, his voice rough and sensual. "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling."

“Brock” you try to stop him but your tone wasn’t very confident, your mind was foggy. He growls, the sound low and possessive. "Say it again," he demands, his body pressing even harder against you. "Say my name again, darling."

You shiver at his command, your body responding to his touch in ways you can't control. "Brock," you repeat, your voice a hoarse whisper. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. "That's right," he says, his lips on your neck again. "I want to hear you say it, darling. I want to hear you begging for me."

He begins to kiss and nibble at your neck, leaving hot, wet trails on your skin. "No more fighting, no more resisting," he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Just give in, darling. Give in to me." You give in, moaning softly as you cling to him.

He growls again, the sound even more primal and possessive than before. "That's it, darling," he says, his hands roaming your body. "I want to hear those beautiful sounds coming from your lips." Brock lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby couch and laying you down on it, his body covering yours. "You're mine now," he whispers, gazing down at you hungrily. "All mine."

[supernovafics]

bestfriend!steve comforting you after a break up

wc: 875

a/n: this short thing was born because "walking in the rain" by we all together has been stuck on repeat for me currently. enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“hey, what are you doing out here?” 

you were somehow able to hear steve’s voice over the heavy sound of the rain. 

seeing his maroon bmw was unexpected, and if it was any other moment it would’ve been a pleasant surprise, but in this one it wasn’t because you had really just wanted to be alone. 

“i’m just walking,” you answered, not stopping to walk over to his car and instead continuing your path down the sidewalk; you weren’t entirely sure where you were going, but you didn’t really mind that right then. 

“walking?” steve asked, his tone incredulous and slightly amused. “it’s pouring out.”

all you could do was shrug in response because you didn’t want to say anything right then; not even to your best friend. 

you hoped that would be the end of it. that steve would understand that your shrug meant that you wanted to be left alone and he’d drive away, leaving you out here walking in the rain on this random tuesday afternoon. but of course, he didn’t drive off. 

instead, he pulled over and parked his car on the random street and then ran to catch up with you; his scoops ahoy uniform immediately getting soaked in the process along with his hair.  

“what’s wrong?” he asked, falling into step with you. 

you shook your head instead of verbally answering him because you knew that it would be too hard to outwardly lie to him. 

steve looked at you, confusion and worry written so clearly across his features because he didn’t know what was up with you in this moment. 

the rain hid your tears well, but it didn’t hide how puffy and red your eyes were. 

“are you crying?” he asked. “what happened?”

you wiped at your cheeks with the sleeve of the jacket you were wearing, and it did absolutely nothing to help, but the action still felt slightly soothing. “i don’t really want to talk about it right now.” 

“okay,” steve responded, matching your quiet tone and not pushing you further. “we can keep walking.”

and so you did. continued walking down the random sidewalk and letting the rain fill the silence lingering between you two. 

until you finally did say something. 

“nate and i broke up. well, actually, he, um, he broke up with me… he ended things,” you said and then you quickly continued before steve could respond. “and i didn’t want to talk about this right now. i wanted to wait until i was at least a little less sad about it to tell you, but...” you trailed off with a halfhearted shrug. 

“i’m sorry,” steve told you, voice soft and hand finding yours, giving it a light reassuring squeeze. 

“it’s okay.” 

it was obvious that your words were a lie— there was nothing about how affected you felt by the abrupt end of this six month relationship that felt okay— but steve decided against calling you out on it. 

he gave your hand another squeeze. “can we go to my car now before we end up getting sick out here?”

“okay,” you whispered and for a second, you thought that he wasn’t able to hear you over the sound of the rain, but then he was leading the way back to his car. 

“i just don’t get it, y’know,” you said, voice still quiet, once you were sitting in steve’s passenger seat. your rain-soaked clothes were starting to stick to you in an uncomfortable kind of way, but you weren't really focused on that right then. “what i did wrong.”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.” the certainty in his voice surprised you as much as it managed to comfort you.  

you turned to look at him, the smallest frown on your face. “how could you possibly know that?”

“because i know you and you’re great.”

his words made you smile, just a little bit, which was a nice contrast from how shitty you’d been feeling for the last hour. it was typical steve behavior, him doing anything and everything to make you feel better.  

you’d been used to it from the moment you two met in third grade when you tripped while playing on the playground and he cracked jokes during the entire walk to the nurses office to take your mind off of the pain of your scraped knees. 

“i never liked nate, by the way,” he continued. 

“i know you didn’t,” you responded. “which is what makes this a thousand times more embarrassing.”

you knew that if you had just avoided nate like steve had suggested from the beginning none of this would be happening. you wouldn’t have been walking around aimlessly in the rain and you wouldn’t have needed your best friend to save you from your own sadness. 

 “do you want me to take you to your place or mine?” steve asked softly, breaking the growing quiet. 

“yours,” you answered immediately. you couldn’t imagine not being with him right now— in his house, in whatever t-shirt and sweatpants he’d offer you to change into, on his couch watching bad movies until it got late and you dragged yourselves to his bed to sleep like you’d done a million times before. “please.”

steve nodded. “of course. anything for you.”

[awyeahitssam]

Travelling back in time is an accident. Harry isn't going to waste it.

Harry glances at the calendar and grimaces. He can't go to Knockturn today. Hogwarts just let out for Summer holidays, and he's already decided to avoid the alleys until school term starts. Just in case... well. Just in case.

He never thought there would come a day that he missed Voldemort's soul pressing alongside his own, but it would make things simpler. If he could peer into Voldemort's mind, he wouldn't have to go about things the old fashioned way. As it is, one of his spies is twenty minutes late, and he can't snatch him from work on the off chance that children are wondering around places they shouldn't be.

Burke's still alive, at least. Harry would feel his death.

It does nothing for his current situation. There will be an attack today. 3 July, 1973 was significant. The day Voldemort's attacks went from targeting the Knights of Walpurgis' political opponents to involving the public.

He just can't remember where.

He knows this. He knows he does. But the time magic takes knowledge, seemingly at random, until he's left with bits of the puzzle. Harry knows Voldemort's broken his soul into pieces, but he no longer remembers what those pieces are called. He doesn't know what they're contained in, either, except one: Slytherin's locket.

Harry really needs to get a move on with this whole defeating Voldemort early thing before he forgets who he is. Forgets why he needs to.

He takes a deep breath. There's nothing for it. Diagon and Hogsmeade are the most obvious places to stage a first attack. Diagon is the more dramatic option, though Hogsmeade would strike fear, especially just a day after the children have left the station. Which one...

Fuck. He's got no time for guessing games, for hoping he knows Voldemort well enough to predict him. The Voldemort of this time is more politically minded than the one Harry defeated, and he's losing information by the day. Who knows how much he's forgotten about his Voldemort.

He needs Burke. He needs the bloody information.

Snape would be home, wouldn't he? His mother's still alive. There was no chance Lily Evans would be sulking about Knockturn. And the Marauders? No...

It should be safe enough.

It's a risk. If he sees one of them, he's going to screw up spectacularly. He has to steer clear.

Too bad he's still got a saving people thing.

He twists through the wards and lands at the apparition point. A moment later, the screaming starts.

Turns out he doesn't need his spy for this after all.

He runs towards the shouts, wand at the ready.

He puts it to good use.

"Evans?" Charlus calls out. "Is that you?"

Harry grimaces and keeps walking. Ever since he saved Charlus's baby brother in the Dark sects first Diagon Alley attack, Charlus Potter has been dogging his steps. The very last thing he wants is the be associated with this family. He already only manages to avoid being labeled a Potter by virtue of using the Sleekeazy's hair potions to settle the characteristic chaos of his hair.

If anyone can recognise its use, it is the inventor. Charlus dared to call him "cousin," before Harry sharply corrected him. He hasn't tried since, but he still has that gleam in his eyes. That set to his jaw.

The famous Potter stubbornness. Harry would be warmed by the fact that it exists outside of himself (and he is, truly, because even if he will never claim them as such, he has family here), but it's causing issues.

"Is that him, darling?" Another voice rings out, clear and lovely. Harry keeps moving along, heedless.

"Yes love, that's our errant Potter-"

Harry spins with a snarl. "I told you," he says, stepping forward to stab his wand into Charlus' chest, the threat bald, "my name is Evans. I want nothing to do with you or your family. I'm a muggleborn, for Merlin's sake."

The woman beside Charlus looks at Harry with wide grey eyes. Aside from their shade, she looks a great deal like Bellatrix LeStrange one day will. Her hair is carefully controlled, brown rather than black, and she's dressed conservatively, as is appropriate for the time period, but. She's certainly a Black.

"Are you quite sure he's yours, darling?" she near-purrs, meeting Harry's burning gaze with a fire of her own. Like recognises like. Black madness sparks in them both.

It has to be Dorea Black. Her arm is linked with Charlus', and she calls him darling. His grandmother.

He turns on his heel and flees.

Pretends the lump in his throat is from fear instead of longing.

Voldemort's yew wand twirls through his fingers as he considers the man on his knees.

Octavian Nott has always been reliable, yet...

"Are you the only one alive?"

Nott's shoulders draw tight.

"No, Vo-" Voldemort presses his magic around the proud little pureblood who dares think to say his name after he's failed. As if he's earned the privilege. "My Lord."

"And where are the others, Octavian?"

"I don't know, My Lord," Nott tells the ground. It's clear from his inflection that his teeth are gritted.

"Oh?"

"The... the vigilante put something around each of their necks. Portkeys. He said the activation phrase when I was the only one left. They... vanished."

Voldemort's methodical movements pause. The mysterious new player on the board has kidnapped his soldiers?

Well. It was an effective tactic, to be sure, but why not simply kill them? Was it weakness, or strategy?

He couldn't help but assume it was the latter. The man - and he was that from the many memory's Voldemort's stolen, though he remains cloaked - was always a move ahead. He met Voldemort's attacks each time.

It was exhilarating. Infuriating, too. The only way his every move could be so neatly countered was a spy. Yet even after he began limiting plans to his Inner Circle, the Knights, this man still knew what he would do...

"What else?" he presses, impatience growing.

"He knocked out five men with a single stunner. It... it seemed to split, my Lord, midcast. And..."

Nott truly is testing his leniency tonight. "You will not like what happens if I have need to prompt you again, Octavian."

A shudder. How positively plebian. "I apologise, My Lord. I simply do not wish to give you incorrect information."

"It just... sounded as though the portkey passphrase was in parseltongue."

Voldemort stares down at his head. Nott's been with him for a very long time. He knows what parseltongue sounds like.

Still, Voldemort must be sure.

"Look at me."

The man does speak parseltongue.

The words "fuck you" spill prettily past concealed lips.

Voldemort obsesses.

The more he learns, the more his fascination grows.

The man performs feats of magic that surprise and delight. Simple things, weaponised. Magical control the likes of which Voldemort has rarely sought to achieve. From fiendfyre, yes, but basic spellwork...

He tries to split a stunning spell. He can still only manage three branches, and they're difficult to aim.

Voldemort keeps trying.

Keeps hunting, too.

The first time he meets him on a battlefield, Voldemort shreds the spell that normally hides his vigilante. The haze cloaking features fractures.

His eyes are unforgivably green. Voldemort almost wishes he would cast the killing curse, just to see how the shade compares side by side.

Victory. He hadn't even had to fight for the other's identity. He tells himself it isn't a disappointment. He can feel the magic this man radiates. Lord Voldemort does not need to be convinced he isn't weak.

He dips his head politely, never letting his eyes stray from that brilliant shade. "Lord Voldemort," he introduces.

One beat.

Two.

Manners, he thinks mildly.

"Harry Evans," his opponent rasps out. It sounds like he hasn't talked to anybody in some time. Voldemort notes the name. Muggleborn, perhaps? Or a half-blood, like him?

Voldemort is hungry to know more. He licks his lips. Bright eyes dart to the motion, then rise back to meet his. A silly mistake. Voldemort tears into his mind.

Or, he tries to.

Blankness meets him. Not fog. Not a wall. Nothingness.

After some heavy-handed prodding, Voldemort pulls back before he is lost in the abyss.

An occlumens as well, then.

He ducks a blasting curse shot at his head.

Time to play.

Thing is, as much as Voldemort likes to play with his food, he's always been a thief at heart.

He wants to steal this man - this Harry Evans - more than he wants to break him.

He leaves with wounds his healer must tend to. They require dittany not to scar. He accepts it for the two large, arched marks. The small one, though - a knife wound, of all things - he keeps. He can rid himself of it later.

For now, though, he has something to press when he thinks of Harry.

Besides, he's not the only one to have left with marks. If Harry is smart, he will bear his well. If not... well, Lord Voldemort is generous. He can always give him more.

His men have standing orders to flee when they see him. He's still down seventeen fighters, stolen by Harry. The next time they dare to linger, he gets three more.

It's annoying to have his pawns taken. Especially because he does not know why.

Harry could ransom them to their rich families. Could try and use them as leverage over Voldemort. Could even just kill them: but he doesn't. Voldemort can tell that much from the Dark Mark. The fact he can't communicate with them or plot their locations is interesting. Unsettling, too. The magic of his mark, circumvented.

It's been a long time since he has gotten stuck on a puzzle.

He thrills at the challenge.

He next sees Harry in his human skin. The other is in Knockturn, just coming out of a shop.

How rare. He's not often spotted in public unless he's dismantling Voldemort's plans.

"Hello," he greets politely. Those green eyes slant over to him, then catch. Like he recognises Lord Voldemort even in this pitiful mask. A part of him delights at the notion, even as he double checks his magic. It remains tucked tight to his body.

"Hello," Harry breathes back.

Voldemort barely suppresses a frown. Is the other attracted to him like this? A pity. He wouldn't think Harry one to fall for a pretty face.

Still, it could prove useful... imagine what information he could pull on a date...

Green eyes trace his features intently. Voldemort is no longer used to being examined in such a way. And then-

Then Harry's magic lashes out at him without the aid of a wand, and the glamour is ripped from Voldemort's skin. He hisses in discomfort at the sensation, taking a step forward and pressing long nails to Harry's throat.

Fingers catch around his wrist before he can make contact. Somehow, Harry is strong enough to hold him in place. Strengthening rituals rendered void. Just what was this man?

The hold does nothing to stop Voldemort from stepping into him. From leaning close to his ear once they're chest to chest and hissing, low in threat, "That was rude, Harry."

The chest pressed to his moves. A laugh trembles out of Harry's throat. He sounds a touch mad. Just look what Voldemort's reduced him to...

"Sorry," he lies. "Were you doing some shopping?"

"No."

Harry hums, disbelieving. Voldemort licks his lips and stares at the neck his fingers have been denied. He wonders how much blood he can draw with a bite before Harry manages to escape.

Harry has a habit of vanishing all the marks he gives him. Such an ungrateful creature.

If given half a chance, Voldemort will bite a collar around his throat.

Harry can't breathe.

He doesn't know how it's come to this. He doesn't understand.

Voldemort's mouth is hot and urgent against his. Nails dig into his hip and back. One of Harry's hands is angling Voldemort's chin.

Voldemort lets him. Tips into his touch. Darts a tongue out to taste him.

He shivers.

Isn't he meant to be destroying Voldemort?

A wicked thought catches in his mind.

Can I destroy Voldemort like this?

Long, powerful fingers trace a burning path up his thigh.

Undo him with my touch?

He takes Voldemort in hand.

Unmake him with my mouth?

Slots teeth against his neck when Voldemort jerks. Scrapes them down when the Dark Lord shudders.

Well. It's not a plan he's thought up, before, but-

It's worth a try, isn't it?

au where auror harry potter ends up in the marauders time period, right by the beginning of voldemort’s rise.

harry potter who avoids hogwarts by all means (the memories are too painful) and instead tries to take down voldemort and his death eaters by himself.

harry who drops his last name in favor of the common muggle last name “evans” to completely separate any ties to the potters (for their sakes.)

harry evans who keeps his distance from his mom, the marauders, and snape because he knows if he sees them he’s going to ruin something.

instead, harry evans catches the attention of the potter family (who is convinced he is a long lost heir), the blacks (who start to suspect he is a new up and coming darm lord), dumbledore (who believes the same), and the dark lord himself (who is intrigued by this mysteriously strong man thwarting his every move.)

i timetravelled to when my parents were still kids to destroy the dark lord but i became his lover instead!?

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm going to start throwing a tantrum if the popular leftist YouTubers keep saying Trans Women when talking about the effects of Trump's policies that very much can and do harm and kill trans men. Like I don't get it? What is the point of specifying trans Women every time they talk about broader trans issues? Do they even realize they're doing this?

this is a really good ask, thanks for taking the time to say it! that makes me really glad i don't watch anything even remotely political or related to queer topics on youtube. i'm not sure how other people can do it, it's entirely too stressful and it's way more common than not that people just end up getting sucked up into petty drama instead of talking about the queer experience or helping other queer people.

i have to be honest to god about this behavior: it's virtue signalling mixed with genuine trans(andro)phobia. the vast majority of it is straight up just virtue signalling and it's old as fuck. it is super obvious and i have no idea how people think they're doing anything good by behaving this way. this is a way for people to make Themselves feel better because they're patting themselves on the back for being sooooooooo progressive and sooooooo good to trans women. people want to look like a great ally to transfems without actually being one.

it's fucking annoying as hell and it's being done on purpose to show that that person doesn't give a singular shit about trans men or anyone else and is literally just sucking up to trans women in the hopes of gaining brownie points and looking more progressive. like it's glaringly apparent that people think that trans woman is the only way to be trans, can we call this bullshit for what it is? "trans person" does NOT mean "trans woman". if you want to specifically talk about trans women, just say that. don't do this weird thing where you're like "oh this is gonna affect trans people!" and then immediately say it as trans women.

trans women are not the only trans people. fucking stop this behavior. you are doing this on purpose. you are leaving out trans men on purpose for the sake of trying to look progressive and like you care about trans rights. all you're doing is proving that you are transphobic af and are only doing this to either suck up to trans women, or for trans women to intentionally erase trans men and completely leave them out of the conversation. like sometimes it IS trans women doing this and we HAVE to call it out. trans women can and do participate in transmasc erasure. we have to pretending that trans women can't hurt trans men, transmascs, nonbinary people, genderqueer people and all other kinds of trans people.

i 100% agree with you. if we're talking about trans issues in general why do people ONLY say trans women and that's it? i don't know how to say it any other way than transphobic legislature hurts every single trans person. every single one. masc, femme, both, something else altogether. all of us are affected. what about genderfluid people? what about bigender people? what about transfems who aren't women? what about agender people? what about transneutral people?

trans does not mean "Trans women and trans women only". stop this behavior. we GET it. you wanna LOOK like you care about trans women. we GET that you want to suck up to us for Progressive Brownie Points. like people really think we can't see this shit. people really think that we cannot tell that people are pandering to us just so they can pat themselves on the back for looking like they care about trans rights. we can fucking see that you're doing this to try to get the transfems in your life to think highly of you while you're not actually helping them at all.

i need people to understand that transfems and trans women are aware of how fucking phony this shit sounds, even when it's coming from other transfems and trans women. like we are nowhere near as dumb as y'all think we are. i honestly find it really fucking nasty that people think that trans women are too dumb to tell when people are just sucking up to us to try to make themselves look better. if you ask me, this behavior is just as transmisogynistic as it is transandrophobic, exorsexist and just transphobic in general.

you can't leave out every other single trans person for the sake of trying to gain rights for trans women. it's all of us, or none of us. leaving other trans people out of the discussion will not make trans womens' lives better or easier. we don't want this. stop it.

[jude-jespernumber1glazer]

Sun : Kaz, Jesper, Nina

Moon : Inej, Wylan, Matthias

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Cold - A Javier Peña Drabble

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Rating: E. I cannot emphasize this enough. E. I have to go hide actually. Unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), big phat breeding kink, mentions of birth control. Word Count: 1695 a/n: This started with a tweet, then transitioned to art, then became whatever this is after I spent way too long staring at Javier Pena's face. Lord help me.

You wished you were still in Columbia, back where you could spend your nights lounging with only a thin sheet and Javier's arm draped across your frame instead of the multitude of blankets currently weighing you down and the thick sweatshirt you stole from his closet. Even Texas wasn't supposed to be this cold, but here you were, shivering like you were still in your childhood home where white winters were commonplace and the public's definition of freezing averaged at twenty below.

"I'm cold," you complain to your husband, your face barely visible amidst the cocoon he'd nestled you into when he rose for the morning.

Javier turns, looking like he's immune to the temperature as he stares at you with his slacks still unbuttoned, leaving you the perfect line of sight to the coarse hair that disappears into the dark fabric. "You have like four blankets on," he teases, grabbing a t-shirt from the drawer and smirking when you frown.

You bury further into the blankets in question, trying to hold in the whimper that threatens to escape when he pulls the shirt down over the warm skin you'd like to still be huddled against. "Will you please come back to bed?"

"I was already late on Tuesday," he reminds you, reaching for one of his dress shirts and haphazardly pulling it from its hanger. He shrugs it over his shoulders, buttoning it despite your obvious disappointment.

"But I'm cold."

He puts on his tie instead of responding, looping it around his neck and mechanically going through the motions he's repeated nearly every morning since the two of you returned to his hometown.

"Please, Javier?" you try again, your tone nearing pleading territory. "I'm freezing."

"Cariño," he returns, equally stubborn as the knot tightens around his neck.

The silence that hangs between you then is palpable, with tension thick enough to cut with a knife, so you deliver what you hope will be the final blow just as he turns to the bedroom door. "You wouldn't leave the mother of your future children to freeze to death, would you?"

He stills.

Bingo.

It wasn't that kids were out of the question for you, but rather that it wasn't something you'd ever thought he wanted. Not when he's never lacked reasons as to why children weren't in the cards. That is, until you overheard his conversation with Chucho the night before.

"He's been dropping hints with me, too," you explain, because it's true. His father has been making off-handed comments about how much he'd love to see kids scampering around the ranch and how he isn't getting any younger.

Something must short-circuit in Javi's brain at the thought though, because you can see the shift is his posture. The momentary contemplation of whether he should give into your plea and face the inevitable conversation that will come with it or if he should continue on as though he hadn't heard you and never bring it up again. If he was the same Javier as the man you first met in Bogota, he'd choose the latter.

But that's not the Javier standing in front of you now.

He turns, his tie off before his knees even hit the bed. His shirt is half unbuttoned by the time he's close enough to pull the blankets back from your body, revealing your trembling frame, although it's difficult to determine if the way you shudder is because of the cold or a result of the wanting look in his eyes. The room already feels warmer, despite the way he tugs the sweatshirt off your frame with ease.

When he reaches for his belt, you're quick to stop him, silently commanding him to allow you to slowly undo the buckle, then the button, and to drag the zipper down slowly. Javi usually isn't a patient man, not when it comes to this and certainly not when it comes to you, but for once he seems to revel in watching you pull his aching cock from his slacks and carefully trail your tongue along the length of it.

From your position on the bed, knees digging into the plush mattress as you lean over the side, he has the leverage he needs to guide your mouth to his tip. Spurred on by the groan he lets out as you wrap your lips around him, you increase the pace, working his length carefully. It's only when you reach your hand up to join the effort that he hisses.

"Fuck, Cariño, your fingers are freezing." You think he's going to stop you, but he doesn't, his warm hand wrapping over yours to encourage your motions. It's only when you need to come up for air that he lets you sit back, crowding into your space and forcing you back against the bed.

Prior to this moment, you fear you've severely underappreciated the importance of body heat, especially with the way your husband is basically a furnace. The smooth panes of his chest feel hot to the touch as they press you into the sheets, his lips shifting down your body and encasing you in the fever of the moment. He's pulled the plush comforter back over you both, ensuring you have it clutched up to your shoulders as he moves lower, settling with his body buried beneath the blankets and his head between your thighs.

The stripe he licks through your folds feels counterproductive though, the action sending another shiver up your spine. Usually, when he has his nose pressed against your clit and his tongue is lapping up your release, your hands are buried in his dark hair, but it's all you can do now to cling to the edge of the blanket, fists tight in the fabric as he races you to toward the edge.

Not that it's difficult for him.

You're barely aware of the way he's crawling back up your body and easing into you in what feels like a singular motion, mind still hazy from your first fading orgasm. He stills once he's buried to the hilt, already looking wrecked, and you figure he probably is with how your walls are still clenching around him. It's always been a tight fit, but this morning, with the way he has you entirely surrounded by his warmth, you're certain you can feel every inch.

"Tell me you meant that," he commands, lips trailing down your jawline and to the spot behind your ear that he knows will get you to say anything. "Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you."

When you don't respond, it's his fingers on your bundle of nerves that has you keening, his second attempt at the request quickly followed by the answer spilling from your lips. "Yes! Fuck, Javi, I want to make you a Daddy." Much to your dismay, he pauses, his fingers leaving your clit to grab one of the pillows next to your head, snaking it beneath the blanket and lifting your hips from the mattress to settle it beneath them. It changes the angle, the thick patch of hair you'd admired earlier rubbing against you with each new thrust.

It's not cold in the room anymore, certainly not beneath the blankets as he rocks into you. "I'm gonna fuck my cum so deep, Cariño."

"I'm still on the pill," you remind him breathlessly, your half numb mind finally catching up with the reality that he likely can't get you pregnant, not this time at least, but he obviously doesn't care.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm gonna hide those fucking pills the second I'm done with you," he assures you, large hands grabbing at your hips and pulling back so the blankets cascade around him. "Then I'm gonna crawl back into this bed and fuck you until it takes."

Your body is again exposed to the cool air of the bedroom, but you don't particularly notice. You're too far gone to care, but he's even closer, his hips stuttering in an uneven pattern until all you can feel is warmth. The heat of his sticky skin against yours when he collapses on top of you, the intensity of his release filling you, and the fury of your climax as it washes over your entire body.

It takes a minute for him to recover, pulling from you with a loud groan. You try to move with him, but he stills you with a hand to your stomach, pressing down for just a moment and ordering you to stay while he crawls from the blankets and tucks you back in. A wave of disappointment appears in your chest as you watch him retreat to the bathroom, but it's the grin on his face when he returns a moment later that has you laughing.

"You didn't."

Javi sneaks back in beside you, the damp cloth he'd brought with him from the bathroom set aside on the table next to the bed. "What? What did I do?" he asks innocently, even as his fingers find their way back to your center, gathering his spend to push it back in. The action makes you hiss and, for a moment, you forget your questioning, too distracted by how his fingers curl inside you and the way he's whispering in your ear. "Can't waste a drop."

"Javier," you groan in a way that has you both unsure if you're scolding him or praising him, but he seems to settle a moment later, reaching for the cloth and cleaning the remainder of his mess from between your thighs. "Did you actually hide my pills?" you ask, more coherent now than before.

He responds with a kiss to your cheek, tossing the washcloth to the side and wrapping his arms back around you. "I'm gonna call out today," he murmurs against your skin. When you open your mouth to inquire again, you're cut off by the force of his lips against your own, his smile evident as he leans into you. "After all," he pulls back, "now that you're out of birth control pills, it would be neglectful of me to leave the mother of my children to freeze."

[gothamhappiness]

I love you, my crime lord! (Red Hood x f!reader)

Hi everyone, this the last part of a little series that I ended writing for Red Hood! (If you've got some ideas for this, you can still request them though)

You can read the other parts here:

Don't touch Red Hood, Batman!

I like to flirt with you, Red Hood!

You're my guardian angel, Red Hood!

Hope you'll enjoy: <3

Warnings: no proof reading, overprotective and dark!Red Hood, strong language, reader is taken hostage

The more time you spent with Red Hood and the more you enjoyed him. 

The more time the man spent with you and the more obvious he was falling in love with you, and pretty hard. You were the kind of person he needed in his life: you loved him no matter what and yet you didn’t have time for his bullshit. You were perfect.

But at some point, your relationship couldn’t really progress into something more intimate if he kept his identity a secret. Red Hood needed you to love him even when he wasn’t Red Hood. And you didn’t want to be his girlfriend only when he was a crime lord.

Jason had been a little bit worried; he wasn't too certain you were going to love him even in daily life, but he quickly got reassured by the way you greeted him home and the way you acted around him. You became a true anchor in his existence and you quickly became the most protected woman of Gotham. His most trusted spy always had a look on you, just to make sure you were safe and sound.

He also warned the Batfamily and every villains of Gotham to stay the fuck away from you. 

You had no idea about it until you got caught up during a hostage at the bank of Gotham. You were terrified, especially because you knew that your boyfriend wasn’t in town that very day. And even if he probably instructed his men to protect you, you weren’t too sure what they could do when a man was pressing a gun against your temple so the police wouldn’t shoot him and his team.

“Look pretty girl, you might not survive today. Hope you told your boyfriend you loved him one last time” the man cruelly whispered to you

“You’re a dead man if you kill me, you know” you said, not really certain it would make a difference, but in your position it couldn’t hurt to try to convince the man to let you go

“Ah yes and why that, your boyfriend is a hitman?” the man chuckled, not believing you

“He’s Red Hood”

At the instant you said that name, the man removed the gun from your head and turned you around to look into your eyes, making sure you weren’t lying to him. He was deeply frowning out of fear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he whispered before looking around for his teammates “We need to let this one go very quickly, she’s Red Hood’s girlfriend” he cried out and all them instantly panicked and hushered you out of the bank, leaving you wondering what the fuck just happened.

Cops quickly rushed to you to know what was going on but before you could answer, a black SUV arrived and you were pulled inside. Jason’s goons were fretting around you to make sure you didn’t get hurt. And they all were really relieved you just seemed stunned.

When you asked where you were going, they answered you were joining Red Hood as if it was the most logical thing in the world. Their boss was already aware of the situation and he wanted you by his side, where you were the safest.

When you arrived in what seemed to be an abandoned nightclub, Red Hood was addressing his troops and giving orders. He asked everyone out when he saw you. Your were his top priority, no matter what the situation was.

“All good?” he asked, his hands wandering your body, and you nodded

“They got scared when I said I was your girlfriend” you finally said

“They better be scared. They should even thank you for telling them who you were to me” Jason said as he guided you to a couch nearby so you could relax. “Gotham is a dangerous place, but it’ll always be a safe haven for you or I’ll burn everything to the ground”

“Come on Jay” you nervously giggled

“No one touch my Queen and they all know it. Isn’t it a simple rule to follow?” Red Hood wondered before sitting down on the couch with you.

He removed his mask so his lips could find yours. You straddled him before leaning against his chest. His arms settled around you. You broke the kiss before looking up at him.

“I love you, my crime lord.” you whispered

“I love you too, my lady” he fondly smiled at you

“But please don’t burn Gotham to the ground?” you hummed

“We’ll see about it” he darkly promised and you didn't know if you should be worried or very horny about it.

Probably both.

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

@randomnamedmira

@winterhi09

@murkyponds

@qardasngan

Taglist for this series <3

@stormz369

[simeon-lovergirl]

"Reminder" Sylus x Reader/MC

TW: Kind of dub-con???, biting, making out, smut-ish, dry humping, a bit of a banter, fighting (mentioned briefly, not too explicit), toxicity, Sylus is obssesed with you hehe🤭

WC: 5308

A/N: I tried to write something. I always have my mind filled with ideas but rarely write them down, and if I do it's always a poorly written drabble that I almost never post; or if I do I always delete it, but today I wanted to work on it and leave laziness behind. I hope you enjoy it, have a nice day🥰

Sylus watches you closely, a smirk curling on his lips. He's ready to strike if you attack again, but for now, you're just trying to catch your breath, still recovering from his blows.

At this point, it's obvious he's a little obsessed with you– why else would he send those crows to follow you? He's been keeping an eye on you, waiting to see how much stronger you've gotten since the last time he saw you.

And, oddly enough, it pleases him. Seeing you grow stronger. Watching your pretty face twist in anger, your hands struggling to block his attacks, your breath coming out in ragged gasps– all because of him.

Just like right now.

Sylus pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering down to his hands. You dodged his last attack too easily. Oh, you've been training. He can tell. And, of course, that means you deserve a little reward.

His smirk widens as he catches the confusion on your face. "You..." he murmurs, stepping towards you. His slow, deliberate movements send a shiver down your spine. Adorable.

You instinctively take a step back, expecting another attack, but instead, his hands cup your face– firm, unyielding– and he pulls you in.

"You've gotten stronger," Sylus whispers against your lips. Then he kisses you.

Your breath hitches as he suddenly kisses you, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your hands press against his chest.

"What the fuck!?"

He chuckles against your lips, feeling your hands push against him in protest "Oh, come on, don't act like you don't like it," he teases, trailing kisses down your neck as he slowly presses you against the stone wall.

"Don't act like you didn't miss me," he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them roughly– holding you in place.

You gasp as his lips continue their path, a shiver running up your spine at the coldness of the wall. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing you closer to him.

You and Sylus have always been caught in this cycle– intense, fleeting, a tug of war that never truly ends. It never lasted long, just a few days before you finally gave in to your desires. Then, he would disappear– almost– completely, and before you knew it, it would all start again.

It was toxic.

But, god, it felt so good.

Just as good as he was making you feel right now, driving you crazy with the way his hands started wandering up to cup your chest, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving marks in their path.

It was going to happen. Again.

You sigh, letting desire take over, throwing everything out the window and simply giving in, gripping his strong biceps to ground yourself. You let out a sharp whimper when he bites down on your neck, and he takes it as the signal that you want this just as much as he does.

He licks where he bit you, a low hum of satisfaction escaping him. The soft sounds you make– gasps, whimpers, needy little moans– only fuel his hunger for more.

"There we go.. good girl", he whispers against your ear, his hands massaging your chest before they slowly move down to your hips. He grips them tightly, pulling you towards him, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation.

He moves with purpose, slowly lifting your top and tossing it aside, his gaze darkening as he realizes you opted out of wearing a bra today.

A smirk tugs at his lips. "What a pleasant surprise," he murmurs before leaning down, wrapping his lips around a sensitive peak, his expert tongue flicking against it while his hips press firmly into yours. The friction, with the layers of clothing between you; adds a rough friction that makes you gasp and squirm in his grasp.

His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you harder against the wall, caging you in. The cold stone against your back contrasts with the burning heat of his body, making your nerves tingle. His lips find yours again, kissing you breathlessly, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, the heat between you both rising with every movement.

"Did you miss me?" you challenge between kisses, your voice breathy and teasing.

He hums, pulling back just enough to cup your chin, tilting your face up so he can drink in the sight of you– disheveled, flushed, beautifully marked by him. The dim lighting of his base only adds to the intimacy of the moment, shadows playing over his sharp features as he admires you.

"Of course I did," he murmurs before capturing your lips again, this time slower, deeper.

You tug at his shirt, craving skin-to-skin contact, and he chuckles at your eagerness. But he obliges, pulling away just long enough to yank it over his head before pressing his bare chest against yours. The heat of his skin against your own makes you gasp, but before you can even react, he steals your breath away with another fierce kiss.

One of his hands slides down, gripping your inner thigh, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. He groans lowly against your lips as he rolls his hips into yours, savoring the way your body reacts to him.

Sylus takes in the sight of you– trapped between him and the wall, breathless, flushed, completely at his mercy. His lips ghost over your jaw, down your throat, claiming you with each bite and kiss.

"Such a pretty thing," he murmurs against your skin, his voice laced with desire. "All mine. Let me remind you of that."

[xdantegallo]

Having to walk through the castle without any clothing on was about as bad as Dante had thought it would be, the younger wolf deeply disliking the attention that was fixed on him at times. It wasn't even that the masters were looking, it was the way that most seemed to be staring at Dante like he was a fresh piece of meat. He guessed that technically he was, but that only made him dislike it all the more. A low growl of warning sounded from him and Dante sped up to be closer to Magnai as the man continued on throughout the castle. He might not know him at all and Dante certainly didn't trust him, but at least the varcolac was keeping the other men away. Besides, the omega had spent the vast majority of his adult life making sure that the alpha wolves around him were happy -- this would just be another way of trying to do so.

Dante didn't pay much of any attention to their surroundings, too focused on trying to ignore the other vampire around them. But it was obvious even to his distracted mind that this place was big and probably like a damn maze until you figured out exactly where everything was. It seemed that they'd reached wherever it was that Magnai wanted to take him and Dante sidled up beside the other man, instinctively leaning into the hand at the back of his neck. His gaze shifted for a brief second to the table of masters as well, locking eyes with one of them and quickly looking away again to focus up on Magnai. His brow furrowed a bit, not expecting that question, also having hoped they'd end up somewhere a little more private. "I could go for a beer." He started slowly, tipping his head back slightly to look up at the master. "If that's alright."

Magnai observed the slave's blush unmoved. There was a little hesitance there in Dante's actions, but nothing that required formal correction. Magnai's eyes dropped lower to trace the slave's shape, unusually strong and solid for an omega, decorated even further than he'd glimpsed before with those black whorls of ink. Not unappealing. Far from it, the alpha's gaze lingering on that soft trail of hair beneath Dante's navel, before he looked up to meet the other's anxious eyes again. "Let's go." He turned promptly on his heel, the absence of any criticism its own kind of praise. Magnai strode on, leading the omega through the castle's halls without pausing.

He made for the playroom nearest to the game hall, a bit more lavishly outfitted for those who wanted to enjoy the flesh they bet on right away. More than that, it was a long walk and forced Dante to come to terms with his nudity, to show him the full sprawling extent of the castle and its wealth as well as the many, many covetous looks that followed the handsome slave as he passed. Magnai's presence meant none would approach Dante for themselves, but that wouldn't stop the other masters from seeking the omega out later. The game room itself wasn't empty either and Magnai stopped long enough for Dante to catch up fully, sliding his hand up the back of the slave's neck to rest on his nape as the group over the poker table glanced their way. Magnai nodded in recognition as he met one of the other vampire's eyes, tipping down to murmur into Dante's ear. "This'll do. Fancy a drink?"

[forcepushthinker]

Bathroom Shenanigans

"A trans girl got great head here." The third bathroom stall in their favourite bar. Astrid had stared at the graffiti a lot over the months. She didn't remember who wrote it, if she had ever been told, but she was acutely aware that so many of her friends have followed in its footsteps over the past year. "A trans girl got great head here." The sentence, so simple in its execution had given her so many titillating thoughts of being one of the trans girls that had given head here. Not that she had ever given head before. She was actually terrified by the thought that she might suck at it. Pun absolutely intended. But she wanted it badly, if only she had anyone to do it with.

"Astrid? You in here?" Christine. Astrid had spent weeks trying to flirt with her, trying to be obvious enough without telling her directly "Please, would you fuck me?" She suddenly realised that she was all alone in the bathroom. No one else of the few patrons tonight was in here with her, only Christine. Her heart began to beat faster. What did Christine want? There was only one way to find out. "Um, yes. Back here. What's up?" She saw by the shadows on the floor that Christine was now standing directly in front of the stall she was in.

"Can I come in?" What? Did she actually hear that? Was she serious? Her hand moved like on auto pilot, as she watched herself reach for the lock and open the door. Christine sidled in carefully and looked down at her with a playful smile on her lips. "I hope you don't mind, I was thinking maybe you'd like some company." Astrid was screaming internally. Yes! Yes, she did. Was this really it? Would she finally get her chance at playing with Christine? She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks. "It was kind of empty in here." Smooth. She was proud of the fact that she managed to keep her voice steady despite her heart beating out of her chest. "What did you have in mind?"

Christine reached out and placed her hand on Astrid's cheek. "We've been talking quite a bit lately about maybe hooking up, so I was wondering if you might be interested in finally going there." She gently tilted Astrid's head upwards so their eyes could meet. She could see that Christine was serious, without giving any sign that no would not be an option. Not that Astrid had any intention of declining the offer. She smiled up at Christine and replied softly, "And here I thought I might have been too subtle. I would love to try that."

Astrid reached out and began to undo Christine's pants, until her half erect girlcock flopped out of her clothes. She didn't hesitate for a moment and, while pulling Christine closer with her left hand, carefully gripped her cock with her right. With a smile on her face she leaned forward, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, sealing her lips around the head and sucking it into her mouth, causing Christine's foreskin to remain at her lips and her tip to slip into her mouth. Christine uttered a satisfied "Mmh." as Astrid sucked the head of her cock into her mouth and began to run her tongue along the underside of the tip and around the neck of the head.

Astrid was incredibly excited. This was the first time she had ever given head to another trans girl, the first time she had ever handled another penis than her own. Christine's lustful reaction encouraged her, quickly forgetting her fear that she might turn out to be lousy at sucking a girl's dick, reinforced by feeling Christine get hard inside her mouth. She closed her lips firmly around Christine's shaft, pressed her tongue against the bottom of the head, pushing it against the top of her mouth and began to move closer towards Christine's crotch, pushing her girlcock deeper towards her throat. She had no idea how to deepthroat, or if she would even be able to do it, but she wanted to take as much of it as she could. Her mind became fuzzy, as she lost herself in the act, moving her head back and forth. Having forgotten where they were, she became a little insecure about a lack of feedback from Christine, but her doubts were quickly erased, when she felt Christine place her hand on her head. Christine began to breathe heavily as she held Astrid's head more firmly and began to reciprocate with thrusting her dick into Astrid's mouth. Slowly, with short movements at first, and faster and deeper with each successive thrust. Astrid's mind began to melt, as she thought lustfully "Yes, throat fuck me, please."

Astrid had fantasised about sucking a girl's dick for quite a while, and while she had gotten excited at the thought every time, she had never thought that it could actually give her such levels of pleasure too, to just have a girl's cock in her mouth. And yet here she was, sitting on the toilet in her favourite bar, her skirt down at her ankles, and she was loving every second of it. Her breath had gotten heavy and she was struggling to suppress the ecstatic moans that welled up in her throat. She was happy for the obstruction in her mouth that helped her keep the passionate noises down, lest they might get discovered before Christine could finish.

Astrid had firmly gripped Christine's hips by now, greedily sucking her cock as far down her throat as she could, while Christine continued to counter thrust Astrid's sucking motions. If Christine felt only half as good about any of this as Astrid did, she turned out to not nearly be as bad at it as she had feared.

Christine was beginning to get close and whispered hotly to Astrid, "Oh god, yes! Keep going." Astrid lost all restraint at this point. She wanted to make Christine come like nothing else. She had never expected the act of sucking another trans girl off to cause such unbridled lust in her. She felt like she would burst in ecstasy if Christine would come down her throat right now. Astrid kept moving, sucking Christine's cock down her throat with a passion she had never felt before, stimulating Christine's tip with her tongue, begging for her to shoot her hot load into her mouth and letting her swallow it all. She wanted that so much, she couldn't wait. "Please give me your cum, give it to me right now! I want it, I want it all, please!" she thought.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" That was what Astrid had been waiting to hear. She continued to play with Christine's dick in her mouth, waiting desperately, and refusing to let go until she could get every last drop off of her. Then she felt it. The pressure with which Christine came surprised her, but she didn't flinch, she didn't let Christine pull out, as she felt Christine's cum flow over her tongue and fill her mouth. She hadn't expected there to be that much, but she deeply enjoyed the sensation and the taste of Christine's juice in her mouth. With Christine's cock still between her lips, she swallowed deeply, her tongue brushing around Christine's head, causing her to shiver as she felt Astrid continuing to caress her cock despite her having finished. Sucking back, Astrid pulled Christine from her mouth with a sloppy wet plop, and looked up at her with a dreamy smile on her lips. She couldn't hold in a little giggle and said "Damn, that was really exciting. I really liked that."

"Yeah, I could feel that." Christine smiled at her and placed her hand under Astrid's chin, as she pulled her off the seat, meeting her lips on the way up and pushing her tongue deep into Astrid's mouth. Astrid let out a shy laugh, as they separated, feeling affirmed in her role as a bottom. She was absolutely sure she was a switch, now more than ever, and she was determined to make this newfound bottom part of herself a permanent fixture that would extremely enjoy to explore further.

As she pulled up her skirt and unlocked the door once more, she smiled at Christine and cheekily said "Maybe next time I can turn around for you."

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Thinking about: Hairdresser X.MH

💭Who: Xu Minghao (Seventeen) x reader 💭What: Fluff. Friends to lovers. Co-workers. Hairdresser Minghao. Hairdresser reader. 💭Word count: 2.4k 💭Warnings: None! 💭Summary:“For months now, you’ve pined after your co-worker and friend, Xu Minghao. You haven’t let yourself even entertain the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated in fear of getting your heart broken.

But, in the midst of bleaching your hair for you one evening, Minghao shows you that your heart will always be safe in his gentle hands.”

Masterlist

A/N – Thank you to my beabie @ourdawnishotterthanourday for helping me with the summary! 💗

“What are you doing?” The amused tone of your co-worker and friend makes you look over at him where he’s sweeping up from his last client, and away from the mirror you’d been staring into while holding various shades of blonde extensions up against your face.

“I think I want to go blonde,” you inform.

“Oh, really?” He looks at your natural hair in surprise. “I always assumed you don’t like to colour your own hair, you’re the only one of us who has their natural colour,” he muses, prompting you to look over the other hairdressers and stylists around the salon.

Although you logically know they all have dyed hair, even in natural colours, because you’ve probably dyed and bleached all of their hair at least once over the past few years, it hasn’t really clicked until Minghao points it out that you are genuinely the only one without coloured hair. Even Minghao as the newest member of the team, has streaks of various colours mixed in with his otherwise dark and shaggy hair, some of which you had put in only days ago with left over dye from a client, turning the last of his blond streaks a royal purple.

“I used to when I was a teen, but it got messed up so much that I don’t trust people to touch it anymore,” you explain with a shrug and turn back to the mirror to try and decide which shade you like best. “I know everyone here is incredible at their jobs and I’d highly recommend them all, but I just can’t bring myself to let them near my hair with scissors, let alone dye.”

“Ah, so offering to stay behind with you today to bleach it for you is pointless,” he realises with a chuckle and moves to empty the dustpan and wash his hands.

When he returns, you’re looking between two different extensions in your hands. He plucks them both up and turns you to him so that he can hold them either side of your face consideringly. You can only stare at his focused features and hope that your awe for this beautiful, kind hearted and endlessly talented man isn’t obvious on your expression.

From the very first moment Minghao was introduced to you as the newest member of the team months back, you were taken. At first it was his natural beauty and uniquely elegant, yet artistic style, paired with his shy smiles that pulled you in. But as you got to know him and became friends, you realised that everything about this man is utterly endearing, and you would love to have the chance to know him romantically too. Yet, you don’t want to risk ruining your working and platonic relationship with him that you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself.

“This one,” he decides, lifting the blonde hairs in his right hand higher, making you look at it instead of him. Silently, you take the extension and turn back to the mirror to hold it up. “I think you’ll look stunning in that shade.”

“Yeah?” He hums in confirmation. “This one it is,”  you agree and notice the way he smiles because you approve his choice. “So uh, you don’t have anything to do after work?” You wonder.

“Hm?”

“You said you’ll stay to do it for me?” You turn just enough to peer at him and notice his expression turn mildly surprised. “I’d like that; I think I’d really fuck up if I tried to do the back myself.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’d love to have the honour,” he smiles softly. “We’ll do the patch and strand test now and bleach after work?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Hao.”

“Of course, any time.”

Which leads to a few hours later when everyone has gone home and the salon is closed for customers, the keys left with the pair of you today, Minghao pats the chair at his station invitingly, prompting you to sit and allow him to put the cape in his hands around your shoulders securely to protect your clothes.

He had finished with his last client with enough time to clean up his station and prepare everything needed to bleach your hair, including all of the foils and the bleach itself so it’s all set up neatly in wait for this moment.

“Sure about this?” He checks for the last time when he’s finished sectioning your hair and pulled on his gloves to get started.

“I trust you,” you assure, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. Minghao’s expression softens slightly, and his eyes do that tender thing they do sometimes, which never fails to make your heart race.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and brushes his hand over your shoulder before he grabs the bleach and gets started diligently painting it onto your hair.

As Minghao works, the two of you talk about everything and anything that comes to mind; art, movies, music, family, friends, work, food, nothing is out of bounds for you two but curiously, one thing Minghao never asks about, nor mentions, is romance.

You know he’s single thanks to co-workers having been excited to learn as much when he started, and they still regularly seem to be updated on his lack of love life, but he hasn’t once mentioned it to you or asked about your own. You can’t tell if he’s purposely not talking about it or if he’s just following your lead and not bringing it up.

Honestly, you’re kind of glad either way because you dread to think of the day he is no longer single, and you have to learn that someone else has his attention.

Sometimes, you think about just biting the bullet and asking him to get dinner with you after work as a date, not just as co-workers and friends. But every time you approach him to ask, you lose all your nerve and fail to make the distinction, so you end up sitting with him in the same restaurant as usual with your heart aching. Though his sole attention and bright smiles on you always picks you back up before dessert is over, so it’s not a complete loss. At least you still have him by your side as a dear friend, something you hope will remain for a long time.

By the time Minghao is putting the last foil in and moving around to stand in front of you with his careful gaze glued to the crazy silver mess atop your head, the conversation has only just ceased, to be replaced with a comfortable quiet.

It always amazes you that Minghao is a man of few words with his clients, he’ll respond to them politely and give smiles, but his clients know he’s not the one to go to if they want someone to listen to then blather away the whole time or gain a reciprocated line of conversation with.

Minghao is quiet and efficient, professional yet still friendly.

Yet he has barely stopped talking since he first started on your hair and not even just to respond. He’s started new topics, made jokes, and even walked away at one point from laughing so hard that he had to lean against the chair of the next station until he gained his composure, only to return with sweet giggles spilling from his lips.

It makes you feel beyond privileged to see the man like this; so open and bright when he’s always careful with his reactions and sparse words with all of your shared colleagues. Even outside of work when you go for staff meals and drinks out, Minghao tends to remain content in his calm bubble while watching everyone else act like fools with a little smile on his face. You would assume he’s just naturally a listener in all regards, but with you he instigates and talks, laughs, and playfully nudges you when you make jokes or tease him.

If you weren’t already so infatuated with the man, you’d think he likes you, but you refuse to entertain that thought and get your hopes up. You think it would crush you too much to have your heart broken by Minghao, even if you know he would be nothing but gentle with it all the same. He’d hand your shattered heart back in delicate, tender hands, and that would hurt even more than the rejection.

Sometimes you wish Minghao isn’t such a kind person, sometimes you wish he’d tell you to stop talking or turn down dinner invites, but he never does. He always turns to you to listen patiently and accepts with a smile on his pretty face. It both lifts you up into the clouds and drags you deeper into the aching abyss of your own feelings for him.

“There,” he declares once he leans back, eyes still darting over your head to check everything is correct even as he removes his gloves to toss onto the station behind him. “Now, we wait.”

“Now we wait,” you agree with a nod, causing the foils to bob above you, making Minghao giggle. “Don’t laugh,” you complain, gently nudging his leg with your foot in something so weak it can’t even be considered a scolding kick. He smiles at you brighter. “You should count yourself lucky to be here with me like this, I wouldn’t let just anyone make me look this insane.”

“I always count myself lucky when I’m with you,” he retorts simply and turns to tidy up as if he hasn’t just caused your heart to body-slam against your ribs erratically.

You can only watch, struck silent by his words, as he moves around to clean up, disappearing into the backroom to wash everything he needs to and put away items.

When he returns he starts to talk, though about what you’re not really sure, at least not actively because a part of you is always tuned in to Minghao enough to understand the topic and carry on the conversation naturally, as if a part of you isn’t still having a breakdown over his blasé words.

Minghao perches on the table of his station in front of you as you talk despite there being a chair a few metres on your left at the next station. His feet are on the floor pretty much underneath where your own are propped on the bar of the chair.

There’s not that much space between you right now so you’re glad he didn’t sit in the next chair, while also wishing he had so that your heart would stop racing with nervous hope.

As the topic ends, Minghao doesn’t start another one and you don’t have the brain capacity to even attempt to either. He hasn’t looked away from you once and there’s something contemplative in his eyes that doesn’t match his relaxed expression.

Then, only seconds after quiet envelops you both, Minghao leans forward, one hand lifting from where it’s holding the edge of the desk beside him so that he can gently cup your cheek a second before his lips touch yours.

You’re too shocked to respond, mind whirling and screaming as your heart tries to break free of the confinements of your chest to jump into his elegant hands to make a home there in his peaceful touch.

When Minghao pulls back after only a few seconds of soft pressure, he gives you small, apologetic smile and settles back against the table while both hands grip the edge. “Sorry, I just…I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time and couldn’t stop myself anymore.”

“Y-you have?” He nods and then yelps when you reach out to hit his arm.

“Ow! I said sorry!” He defends and flails to grab your hands before you can whack him again, even if you are barely adding any sting to your touch, not wanting to hurt him and he knows that, he has to know that.

“Why did you have to pick now when I look like this?!” You exclaim and free one hand from his hold to motion to your hair.

He glances up at the foils then looks at you. “I don’t understand.”

“I look crazy, Minghao! Of all the times you could kiss me, you chose this to be the first? Now this is what we’re both going to think of every time our first kiss comes up! Couldn’t you have chosen a time when I look decent?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he declares flatly then leans over to press a quick peck to your lips again. “You’re always beautiful to me,” his lips brush against yours as he speaks.

“Hao…” You reach up to touch your fingers to his jaw gently. “Do you mean that?”

“When have I ever said something I don’t mean?”

“I…Good point,” you concede then tilt your chin up the miniscule distance needed to kiss him. You feel his lips turn up into a smile before he kisses you back.

“I want to clarify,” he says when he’s leaning against the table again, but he’s slouched more now so that he can comfortably hold your hand with your fingers laced together. “I really like you and I would like to date you, not just kiss. But I’d of course like to do that too, a lot, if possible.”

“Very possible,” you confirm with an emphatic nod that makes him giggle as the foils flop around your head comically. “I’ve been trying to ask this for so long now but tonight, please get dinner with me, as a date, not just friends.”

Minghao doesn’t answer at first, but he does light up with joy before he sweeps back in to kiss you happily, hands cupping your cheeks to brush his thumbs over your skin adoringly.

After many kisses, Minghao finally agrees to get dinner as your first date before you kiss, and kiss until he has to wash the bleach from your hair.

Then you kiss some more and barely make it to the restaurant in time to eat. You don’t mind not being able to order dessert when Minghao pulls you in close once outside of the restaurant and out of the way, to slot his lips adoringly against yours.

You’d pick kissing this beautiful man over dessert any day and you’re finally understanding that the feeling, your feelings, are entirely mutual.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[darknessdrops]

A (long) Rant and Au Revoir

I'm Canadian. And I'm in a country that is under attack by its powerful neighbour. A neighbour that is intent on destroying our economy, taking our jobs, lowering our living standards, and erasing our sovereignty.

For the past sixty years we have, with the cooperation and invitation of the United States, conjoined our economy with theirs. Essentially there's been a North American economic union, first established by the original NAFTA treaty in the late 1980s. Canada relied on those treaties and the entire Canadian economy is now dependent upon access to the U.S. market.

And it turns out to have been a trap.

The U.S. President now imposes ruinous tariffs - on fake (what else would it be when coming from Trump?) and flimsy national security grounds - the obvious intent of which is to de-industrialize Canada (and Mexico) for the benefit of the U.S.

And sure, every country has the right to impose tariffs to protect vital national interests, or to protest unfair trade practices by another state. But across the board 25% tariffs against Mexico and Canada are not that; rather they are a form of economic warfare in which one state is using its economic advantage to beggar its neighbours. And it will result in severe economic hardship for my family and friends. (I have friends who work in the auto industry. They expect to be laid off in the next couple of weeks.)

I remember Trump texting - when it appeared that Russia was going to defeat Ukraine in a matter of days - how "smart" Putin was. Trump has no morality or sense of right and wrong. He only celebrates power and success.

It really depresses me that even the "liberal" American media that I follow (CNN, MSNBC, the New York Times, etc.) sees this from a purely American viewpoint. What might it do to U.S. rate of inflation? How will it affect American jobs? But where is the outrage about an illegitimate exercise of power? That this is an aggressive and unprovoked attack on weaker countries that have done nothing to deserve such a response? (And god help me if anyone mentions fentanyl!!)

Anyway, I could go on and on. And on. But it makes no difference.

So one very small thing I'm doing is to cut all of my use or purchase of American goods. There's no fucking way I'll buy anything made in America. And that means cancelling Netflix and Prime and Apple+, the Times, and any other product that means I'm paying money to a U.S. entity.

Platforms like Tumblr and Instagram and BlueSky are a bit different. I don't directly pay anything for their use. (And, in the case of Tumblr, it probably loses money.) But they are American owned and, at this moment, that's not something that sits too well with me. And, sorry, that's probably irrational and unfair, but that's how it is.

I hope it's "au revoir" and not goodbye.

[taissasspidergirl]

red eyes

gn reader (i made sure there were no pronouns used. let me know if i somehow still managed to make a mistake, my brain is so weird)

minors and ageless blogs dni.

a/n: this inspiration behind this is insane. which is why it may look rushed, or not long enough. this was purely self-indulgent as wanda can save us all. proofread but i wrote this as i went so there might be mistakes left. enjoy reading leave any feedback if you have any lets gooo

w/c: 3.7 k ish

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, questions about drug consumption. gay reader. gay wanda. shuri and riri trying to play matchmakers. reader being a mess. makeout, reader and wanda match their freak. that’s about it i think? let me know if i missed anything!!

It starts below the cut :)

She was like a dream. Angel. Dream angel? You had no idea what she could be because your eyes were focused on hers. How they could lead you into a never ending forest that you’d gladly get lost into. Your legs nearly gave out when she tucked her hair behind her ear and fixed her suit. A simple action. And yet it was enough for you to act like a teenager all over again.

“Are you opening a tab or…?” The bartender asked, pointing towards your drink, interrupting any further thought your brain could conjure about the stranger.

“I’m…I think I’m good here. Thank you.” You mutter more than you speak, too entranced by the redhead who’s leaned against the wall, twirling a drink in her hand. Sliding a generous tip as an apology for the amount of zoning out you've been doing, you slide off the barstool and shake off your nerves.

Why were you even feeling like this?

The music was blasting so loud that you can feel the vibration of the bass traveling through your body, a pleasant distraction from the current shivers. You wonder where Shuri and Riri went off too but are slightly grateful that they lost you. You're not sure you could handle their teasing on top of your current state. Which would be painfully obvious that something was going on.

As you walk through the crowd of dancing bodies you allow yourself to relax, following the rhythm. For a minute it works. You ignore the stranger’s entracing presence. Or it could just be the alcohol traveling in your blood that’s making you think this way. Either way you’re successful at forgetting her, so much so that you don’t feel a pair of hands around your waist.

“I almost lost you.” It’s like time froze. You don’t know much what to say, much less think. What can you even do in this situation? It almost felt like an eternity before you take another drink of liquid courage and turn around, mentally steeling yourself. Right. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever flirted with someone, right?

“Ah, there you are.” Shuri playfully pushes you away. You nearly choke, eyes widening to see that the mysterious woman you feared was in fact, your best friend.

“You can at least pretend you’re happy to see us.” Riri chuckles as she notices how lost you looked.

“It’s not that. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.” You make another attempt to drink before Shuri stops you in midair.

“I hope it was a pleasant surprise.”

“Hey, you were the ones who abandoned me.” 

“Uh, I thought you told us that you’d join us later on?” Riri furrows her brows. Shuri checks your temperature before leaning in to whisper closely in your ear. “Did you take anything else other than alcohol? Because seriously–”

“What? No, no, I didn’t, I’m just…”

And there she was again. This time she’s dancing with someone, with her hands around them. You can’t tell their exact gender but you know they’re lucky. You yearn to feel the heat of her body against yours, those hands to guide your movements and those eyes to devour you.

“Yeah, okay. We’re putting you on water from now on.”

You can hardly hear what Shuri is saying, your eyes trained on the redhead. You never wished you were someone else until now. She whispers something to them, making them laugh and you feel a swirl travel uncomfortably to the pit of your abdomen.

“I don’t know Shuri…I think it’s more of a girl problem than a high problem.”

“What?”

“Look at what’s happening.” Riri points to you, who’s looking at the woman who is now looking at…you. She doesn’t even blink, instead pulling the person she’s with closer, staring at you, nearly challenging you to break your stare. And that seems to be enough to get you out of your trance because you shake your head, grounding back into reality. 

“What is…what?” Your heart is racing uncontrollably, in all sorts of different patterns. 

“Damn. I wish I could've filmed that. You were in another world.” Shuri snickers as she waves a hand in front of you. You hardly blink, making Riri look at you in concern.

“Okay, seriously what is going on with you? You sure you didn’t take anything?”

“I’m afraid Cupid shot that poor heart of yours.” At Shuri’s laughter you blink hard, turning away from the green eyed woman to your friends.

“Who?” Yeah. You definitely need a seat because your legs are completely giving out. That and you feel delusional, you think you’ve seen a hint of a smirk but that could be a trick of the light and your brain going hazy.

Your friends look at each other before guiding you to the bar, sitting you down. You appreciate their concern but it’s nothing big. You’re just being dramatic. Your ears barely register what they are saying. You hardly see the glass of water in front of you, her eyes still stuck in your mind, nearly enough to make your skin stick with sweat.

Downing the drink in one go, you take a deep breath, leaning into Shuri’s comforting touch.

“I did not expect to have to play matchmaker on my trip. Say Riri, are you down with me?

“Woah, woah, woah. No one is playing matchmaker. There is no match to be made. And we’re here to make you enjoy your vacation, not give you any work.” You interrupt, downing your glass of water in one go, choking miserably as the woman– stranger, angel? approaches you. 

“Are you sure? Because right now you’re– Wanda?”

“Shuri. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you. What gives?” Wanda, you’ve learned, leans in and hugs Shuri, offering a polite handshake to Riri. You could listen to that husky voice and her accent all day on tape.

“I’ve been on vacation from Wakanda, and my good friend here offered me a place to stay.” She gestures to you, which you take as a cue to act normal. But how can you when you feel like you’re going to melt at any moment because right now Wanda is looking at you and offering her hand. God her hands are so soft.

“Wait, you all…know each other?” 

You mirror Riri’s question in your mind, trying not to look too overly interested, you think you’ve already done enough with your staring.

“We go way back. Wanda was in a college exchange programme in Wakanda. A little before we met.”

“And how do you know each other?” This time Wanda turns to you and you nearly choke on air. You really needed to get a grip on yourself.

“Uh…college…volleyball?” You uncontrollably drop your voice to a whisper. Your whole body trembles under her gaze, a shiver trembling throughout your entire body. It’s uncomfortable, yet addictive.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She leans her ear closer to your lips and it takes all the courage to not stumble on your words. Her scent invades your senses. It’s something sweet and floral, yet so heady that it’s entrapping.

“Volleyball. College.” 

You were better than this. You don’t think out of all the people you’ve spoken to you were this miserable. Fortunately for you she doesn’t pay any mind. In fact she almost finds it amusing. It’s refreshing to most overly confident and shallow people she’s met. You were refreshing, in a way.

“It was a tie, if you’re asking.” Shuri nudges Wanda, trying to hold back her laugh from how absolutely of a mess you are right now. You wonder if she’s trying to put in good words in your honour. 

“From what I heard it was pretty impressive.” Riri adds as she signals the bartender for another set of drinks.

“It was forever ago. Besides, with the internship at The Daily Bugle I don’t think I have much time.” You steal her drink, ignoring her look of indignation. 

“But I heard you still play occasionally? Next week we’re going to train with other friends, just for the good memories. You can join us if you want, Wanda. Besides, we have lots of catching up to do.”

“How could I not?” And right now she was staring directly at you. This time, you choke on your drink.

“Shit, are you okay?” You feel your heart beating out of your chest at the way she rubs your back. Air. You need air.

“I think…outside. I need to go outside.”

“Do you need our help?” 

“I’m fine, Shuri, I just need a quick breather…”

You need more than that.

“Why don’t we go outside? Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I think you two need to go outside. Riri and I will stay here and look over our things.”

“Is that okay with you?” Wanda turns to look at you for confirmation and you numbly nod your head. Honestly, you’d go anywhere she asks you to.

As you walk away they subtly shoot you a thumbs up, only replacing with a wave and a farewell when Wanda promises to get you back.

She leads you to a set of stairs, the sound of music slowly fading away. She has her hand on your back the whole time. Not too forceful but guiding. As you reach the final set of stairs she leads you to a balcony. The cold air is inviting, instantly cooling your nerves. Wanda lets go of you and you almost…no. Be honest with yourself. You miss her warmth.

“Feeling any better?”

If she keeps on talking with that accent and that voice you don’t think you’ll be.

“I’m alright. Just…y’know. Those evenings. One of those evenings. I mean I’m not always like this, I’m chill. I mean not chill chill, but…” You were rambling, waving your hand as you cleared your throat. 

“I get you. Got too overwhelmed?”

“Yeah…” There is no way that a question could take that long to answer.

“Mhm. That happens. It felt like everything was closing in on you, right?” 

“Yeah. Like I couldn’t escape.” You’re not sure how she can still hear you with how low you’re speaking. Maybe it’s because you’re missing how close you got.

“Well. I’m wishing that’s not the case for you right now.” How did basic human decency turn into a new standard for you? With the way she was smiling softly at you and keeping a careful eye, you think you have your answer.

“I’m alright, thanks…Wanda.” Saying her name felt so good. God you’re weird. She probably thinks you’re being weird right now.

“I’m glad you are…?” She trails off, waiting for you to finish her sentence. What could she want? Your name? Right. Your name. 

After giving her your name she tries it out. You’ve never paid much attention to it up until now and you swear you only want to hear it out of her. In all the ways you can think of.

“It’s nice to officially meet you. Shuri’s never done a presentation for her friends before…looks like I’ve been missing out.”

“Oh, you didn’t miss out much. I mean I’m the least interesting out of the bunch. Really.”

This is not the coolest way to introduce yourself.

“Says who? In the little amount of time I got to know you, I know you’re a competitive volleyball player. And you’re interning for a company? I think that you’re more interesting than you let on.”

“That was a longtime ago. I don’t have any more of my reflexes anymore.”

“I think reflexes stay with us forever. The more you practice the more it stays. Muscle memory kind of thing.”

“Right. Right. I totally get that, I mean…it stays…but I’m not sure. I don’t think I am as good as I was before.”

“Really? But aren’t you going to play next week?”

How the hell did she remember that?

“The girls are just saying that. I’m not sure if I’ll even be there. I might be there to watch or coach, but that’s about it.”

“You coach?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“I could see that. You seem to be observant. And you were pretty much…observant back there.” She laughs, the sound echoing softly in the air. You almost forget what she said…something about you being observant? wait. Observant? Shit, you’ve been caught– “I was wondering what it would take for you to talk to me. Guess all you needed was the right incentive.”

Woah, woah…what exactly is happening?

“You’re making up too many ideas.” It was so nonsensical but her gaze darkened at your trembling tone, completely indifferent to your words. She hasn’t felt that chase in a while. Or a feeling so strong, so indescribable, that it’s almost hypnotising. She felt your stare on her. She felt your presence. It was so ridiculous but she needed to know you, to have you. Maybe she’ll ask Shuri questions about you. Or just skip the questions entirely.

“I’m never one to make up ideas or lie.” 

“You’re…so impossible.” Your body feels a random wave of warmth. You’re not entirely sure if it’s the alcohol taking its effect if it’s just her.

“Most people like that about me.” She leans against the railing, smiling that same smirk you could’ve sworn you imagined. Just having her like this felt real. A gust of wind flew past her hair and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. And it’s like she knows, because the minute you’re about to speak she steps closer to you.

“There you go with the staring again.”

“I’m sorry. I really am, I didn’t…I’m sorry. It’s just you’re so…”

You really are awful at this.

“So…what?” The redhead mock grins, her laughter making your stomach swirl with need. The air hardly even cools you anymore, your body is now at an all time heat. She held so much energy that you nearly felt intimidated. It felt like all oxygen was sucked in and she held you completely still. It’s a fate you’ll gladly accept. “There are so many things going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“You’re so pretty I can hardly even focus.” Your heart races so fast you’re nearly out of breath as you finish speaking. “And I don’t know what’s wrong with me but you’ve got something about you that’s making me forget everything I know. You’re the only one I ever really want to know about. I know how crazy I sound, I mean I…” You don’t even stop to think before you talk. You realised how fucked you are when she raises a hand to interrupt you.

“Slow down for me, alright?” 

Yeah. You’re so fucked. She’s probably going to tell your friends how much of a fucking weirdo you are–

“Look, for some weird reason I feel…I feel the same way too. And this is going to sound so weird but I think it’s perfectly normal for you to feel that way. You’re going to think I’m insane but I’ve been thinking a lot that something like this’ll happen.”

Silence ensues. A thousand alarm bells ring through your mind. And through hers. She should just apologise and leave it as it is–

“I think it’s…more than just normal. I mean I’ve been feeling this weird energy too and I thought if I spoke about it to Shuri she’s probably going to overextend her stay.” You speak clearly, not out of breath. You hold her stare, feeling brave, and safe. It’s so unexplainable. Maybe one of those theories you’ve heard of, or something more.

“I take it we got each other under our spell.” The redhead sighs with relief, drawing even closer to you and tentatively taking your hand in hers. You allow it. For some reason the touch feels more electric than before. It’s a pleasant shock. One that you don’t want to find letting go anytime soon.

“I think you’re the one who’s got me more under a spell than anything. Totally threw me off.”

“Oh, I did?”

“You did.”

You find yourself stepping closer to her, reaching for her other hand, tracing her pulse. You miss her low murmur, how she’s silently encouraging you to do more. To say more.

“You just have this pull to you, Wanda. If…you want to, I’d like to know more about you. And take you out sometime, maybe. If that’s what you want?” You were deflating again, your voice wavering. Just when everything was going perfect…

“I’d like that.” Her touch is so slow and tender it feels like you’re not even here.

“Huh?”

Her hands move to cup your cheeks, feeling the warmth of your skin. She doesn't say the words, not yet, but silently lets you know that you’ve got her right where she wants to. Just as you have her. Even then…just for you, she would repeat anything you need to hear.

“I said I’d like that. A lot, actually. I don’t know what this feeling is… But I want to find out more about it. With you, in our own time.” She speaks so softly that you can’t help but step closer, impossibly closer than what you already were. She truly has you under a spell.

“Then…good.” You smile, lifting her hands to your lips before gently kissing each knuckle.

“Good?”

“Good.”

“More than anything?” She leans in, her lips barely brushing against yours. Her hands let go of yours, wanting to feel your heartbeat

“I promise.” Your voice wavers as her eyes flit into yours, dropping down to gaze at your lips, before she gazes back at you again, silently asking you for permission to kiss you.

It’s a request you grant.

Her fingers tugs your shirt, your lips playfully brushing together as she smiles against them. She switches positions, tugging on your shirt as she walks backwards, leading you further away from the balcony, until her back hits the wall.

“Wait, Wanda…is this what you want? You know we don’t have to–”

“Kiss me, please.” It’s like your brain is wired to listen to her. You break the distance, your lips colliding. She’s aggressive. Carefully aggressively. Her lips taste of strawberries, making you hum softly. They’re so sweet you can hardly feel them against yours. Until she traps your bottom lip with her teeth, teasingly pulling back, keeping steady eye contact with you.

It’s like you forgot how to breathe entirely.

Her pupils are so blown you can hardly see the colour of her eyes. You try to resist the urge to stare at her heaving chest, wanting nothing more but to slowly take her apart right then and there. A swirling sensation at the pit of her abdomen, her hands itching to pull you impossibly closer to her, to feel you against her. It’s a feeling she’s rediscovering again. And it’s driving her mad with want, desire…and something more. She pulls you in again, her hands digging into your hips, making you groan into the kiss, completely unable to return it probably. You’re almost too drunk on her. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and yet…still so addictively intoxicating. Your hands move wherever you can touch, rapid and sporadic. It’s like you’ve known each other before, seemingly able to map out your sensitive areas.

Eventually, reluctantly, you’re both gasping for air, using each other as anchors. You laugh after a while, feeling your heart rate slow down to a normal rhythm. 

“I’m taking you out on a real date, alright?” You press your forehead against hers, relishing in the way she wraps her arms around you.

“I know you will.” She whispers, kissing the tip of your nose before capturing your lips one last time. You lean against her, dropping your head to her shoulder. As you close your eyes images come wafting through her mind, images of realities that have yet to happen soon.