#KISS KISS FALL INTO LOW EARTH ORBIT

[lovingdilfs]

The backstage encounter (smut)

Requested by: @lyssaxoxoelvis

Warnings: 18+ content, sex, fingering,BJ, alcohol.

As the melody to "Can't Help Falling in Love" began to play, Elvis seemed to snap out of the trance you had left him in. He launched into his routine, moving effortlessly through the crowd, his charisma and charm on full display. You watched with a mixture of awe and envy as he kissed women, making them feel like the most important person in the world for just a moment.

As Elvis walked closer and closer to you, his eyes fixed on your form, you felt your heart racing with anticipation. He had no shame in staring at you, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the attention. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to see right through you, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

As he approached, you could feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his cologne, and you felt like you were in a dream. His eyes never left yours, and you felt like he was reading your soul, seeing all your deepest desires and secrets. You couldn't help but be drawn in by his magnetic presence, like he was the sun and you were just a tiny planet caught in his orbit.

Elvis held out his hand, and you took it without hesitation, letting him help you to your feet. As you stood up, he didn't let go, his hand still firmly grasping yours. He pulled you closer, and you could feel his breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Without a word, he gently laid his hand along your jaw, his fingers tracing the contours of your face. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short gasps. And then, without warning, he kissed you.

It was a passionate kiss, but also tender and gentle, like he was trying to convey all his emotions through that one gesture. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt like you were melting into him. “Meet me after the show baby” he whispered against your lips as he left you there standing empty.

You sat down, trying to comprehend what just happened. All you could think about was the feel of his lips on yours, and the way he had looked at you.

"What the hell was that?" you finally managed to say, still in a state of shock.

"I have no idea," your friend replied, her eyes wide with surprise.

As the show went on, Elvis's eyes kept gazing at you. You were lost in the moment, the music washing over you, when suddenly a hand gently laid on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. You looked up to see a warm smile looking down at you, and your heart skipped a beat. "Honey, will you come with me?" the man asked. Without hesitation, you took his hand, letting him lead you away from the crowded concert hall. “If you just go down to end and wait, Mr. Presley will you see when the shows over” he said and let you there alone, wandering the backstage halls.

You turned around to see Elvis himself, dressed in his signature jumpsuit, walking towards you with a smile on his face. "Well, hello there," he said, his voice smooth and low.

Your heart was racing as you stood there, trying to find the words to say. "Hi," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Elvis chuckled. "Don't be nervous, honey," he said, taking your hand in his. "I'm just a regular guy, like anyone else."

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest at his words. He was so down-to-earth and charming, it was impossible not to like him. “You wanna come in?” He pointed at the door with the name Elvis upon it, there was something in his eyes that told you he was sincere. The room was surprisingly cozy, with soft lighting and comfortable chairs. Elvis motioned for you to take a seat, and disappeared into another room.

You could hear him rustling around, and a few moments later, he emerged with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"Hope you don't mind a little drink," he said, pouring you a glass. "I find it helps me relax after a show."

You took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through your body, a small cough left your mouth. Elvis sat back in his chair, sipping his own drink and watching you with a look of amusement. "You're not much of a drinker, are you?" he asked.

You shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed. "No, not really," you admitted.

Elvis chuckled. "Well, don't worry, darlin'," he said. "I won't make you drink more than you're comfortable with. I just thought it might help take the edge off a bit." Elvis's eyes sparkled as he looked at you, and he took another sip of whiskey, his gaze never leaving yours. He shook his head slightly and a small smile played on his lips. "What?" you asked, leaning forward to get a better look at him. He set his glass down on the table and leaned closer to you, his eyes intense. "Nothing, darlin', it's just that you are absolutely stunning," he said in a low, husky voice. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he moved even closer, and you could smell the whiskey on his breath. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by Elvis's deep voice, He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, "Have you ever been touched before, baby?" His warm breath on your skin made you gasp and your heart race as you looked into his intense eyes, not knowing what to say, He traced patterns on your skin with his finger, his touch making your stomach turn, you down bad for this man and he knew it. Slowly, he moved his hand closer and closer to the hem of your dress, his gaze fixed on you. "Huh baby? Have a man ever touched you?" he asked in a low and husky voice. “O-once” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he nibbled on your skin, making you throw your head back in pleasure. His hand trailed up your thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between your legs. Teasingly tapping against the wet fabric, he pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. His gaze was intense, and you could see the desire burning in them. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice husky and low.

You shook your head, unable to form words. The sensations coursing through your body were too much for you to handle. You wanted him, needed him, more than anything.

He smiled, running his hand up your thigh and under the fabric of your panties. His fingers were skilled and confident as he explored your folds, finding the spot that made you gasp with pleasure. He circled it slowly, building up the pressure until you were moaning his name.

“Elvis”, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand continued to pleasure you. You moaned into his mouth, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving you. His fingers moved expertly, finding all the right spots and driving you wild with desire. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and he seemed to sense it too. He broke the kiss and looked at you with dark, intense eyes.

"You want to come for me, baby?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You could only nod, your body aching for release. He continued to touch you, his fingers moving faster and harder until you couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry, you reached your peak, your body shaking with pleasure.

You looked down at his lap, seeing the his erection growing under his pants, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Do you want to touch me, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

your fingers stroked him through his pants. His breaths were ragged as he let out a low groan, his hips thrusting into your hand. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand moved to your hair, tangling in it as he guided your mouth towards his. You eagerly took his lips, kissing him deeply as you continued to stroke him. He thrusted his hips up, meeting your hand with every stroke. “I want your mouth on me” he whispered Against your lips. You felt a rush of heat between your legs again as he thrust his hips up, meeting your hand with every stroke. You placed your on your knees in front of him, you reached up to undo the button and zipper of his jumpsuit, pulling it down to reveal his hard length. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you couldn't resist leaning in to give him a teasing lick. He moaned, his hand tangling in your hair as you took him into your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, relishing the taste of him on your tongue. You took him deeper into your mouth, using your hand to stroke the parts of him that wouldn't fit. His breathing grew ragged as you sucked and licked, and you could feel his hips bucking towards you.

He groaned in pleasure as you worked your mouth over him, his hand tightening in your hair. Suddenly, he pulled away and looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Take your clothes off, baby," he said, his voice low and husky.

You stood up, feeling a little nervous but also incredibly turned on. You slowly removed your dress, letting it fall to the floor as you stood before him in nothing but your underwear. He took in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily.

"Come here," he said, pulling you back down onto his lap. His hands roamed over your curves, his lips seeking yours as he kissed you deeply. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hands slide down to remove your panties.

He broke the kiss and pulled back to admire your body, his eyes dark with desire. He leaned in to press kisses down your neck, his hands trailing down to your core. He teased you with his fingers, circling your entrance before pushing two inside. You gasped, arching your back as he fingered you expertly.

"Fuck, you're so wet, already" he growled, his fingers pumping in and out of you. "I need to taste you."

With that, he lifted you up and laid you down on the couch, spreading your legs wide open. He moved in between your thighs, his tongue flicking against your clit as he ate you out. You moaned loudly, your hands tangling in his hair as he brought you to the brink of orgasm.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he stopped and looked up at you with a wicked grin. "Are you ready for me?" he asked, his eyes smoldering with desire. “Elvis I need you!” You moaned out. Elvis chuckled at your words, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I love it when girls get eager," he said, his voice low and husky. He positioned himself at your entrance, teasingly rubbing against you before slowly sliding inside. You gasped at the sensation, feeling full and stretched around him.

He started moving slowly at first, his hands gripping your hips as he set a steady rhythm. But soon his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper as you met him thrust for thrust.

You moaned out his name, your body on fire with pleasure. He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. Elvis continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate as he approached his own climax. You could feel your own peak building once again, and you tightened your legs around his waist, urging him on. With a final groan, he came undone, his body shuddering with pleasure as he spilled himself inside of you. You followed soon after, your body wracked with waves of ecstasy. Elvis collapsed on top of you, his breaths coming in short pants as he tried to catch his breath.

[jofdiamonds]

For @airi-of-hearts

Darling tarot heart At the mercy of each other, we are I'll be the pit to your pendulum Para to your normal Come hear a teardrop Heartful of ghosts Hurt full of hope Heartful of ghosts Cry out to the wendigo moon in Scorpio (...)

Valedictory valentines to an extrasensory sorrow A game of catch-a-tear to my heartstrings trembling low

-

Writing love songs came easy to Aki, as a person whose feelings were like roots; digging deep into the earth, being the only thing connecting him to an otherwise mundane world. The joy of being alive he had found in developing relationships with others, in falling in love with a different person each night, be it man or woman. It didn't matter, all of them had endless qualities and things he could find charming, bewitching, inspiring.

As a teenager, he saw himself like the main character of a book, or a movie, or a poem. Now, perhaps, he was the villain. Because while he returned those feelings, after a while, it got tedious and he did so automatically, his lips moving against theirs with painful parsimony, the smiles not reaching his eyes, his hands caressing their bodies, looking for something that he may or may not find, with a lack of interest that didn't match the ferocity of his acts.

It was almost as if he was daring himself to feel something. A constant heated dialogue between his rationality and his emotions. Why are you doing this? said one side. Why not? Said the other, I need inspiration for my songs, there has to be some way for me to get me out of this numbness...

It turned out, there was a way. A way that had a name and a surname, pretty brown eyes and honey-blonde hair. A way that he needed to keep away from, but was constantly attracted to. Like a magnet, like a satellite orbiting a cold, dead planet. Only this planet was warm and nice and loving and caring and made the rest universe seem... almost like a home. A place you wanted to be in.

But he had promised it to himself; my fortress won't fall, were the words he had written in his notebook. The words he whispered to himself after seeing her smile and knowing very well he was the cause of it, after feeling her tender touch, after hugging her goodbye, after craving a kiss so much he would have gone to Hell and back to get it, crossing the river Styx anyway he could.

A tired sigh, another sleepless night. What was there left of his fortress? Nothing but a few stones. Positioned in a strategic matter, but Aki knew the truth. They were weak, and with the right word from Airi, they would be knocked over. Willingly, even. Like soldiers tired of fighting. Giving up the kingdom they were supposed to defend.

A simple hello whispered the next morning at breakfast did the trick. The need to get on raw knees from so much begging, from so much pleading. He would have cried if he knew how. He would have screamed could he speak. A simple nod of the head as an answer, but inside of him, a hurricane.

I cannot bear this world without you any longer became enjoy your meal.

But Aki knew the truth.

The fortress had fallen. The city was in flames.

[we-rule-the-kingdom-inside]

because it’s gravity (keeping you with me)

5147 words, 5 illustrations read on AO3 here!!

Of all the things to come in between talented astrobotanist Kageyama Tobio and his petty, infuriating, ridiculously attractive senpai, he didn't quite expect space lettuce, even more space lettuce, and the very forces of gravity.

Or: five times Kageyama and Oikawa almost kiss in space, and the one time they actually do.

We’re back at our usual nonsense with 🌸 A FULL 🌸 SHOUJO 🌸 TROPE FLAVOURED 🌸 ILLUSTRATED FIC 🌸 written by chronology and sumaru, and art by the ever wonderful @hachibani -- we hope you enjoy our little space romance! Happy KageOi Day!! 💚💙

[nobodyeverasked]

cities in the sky; hwang hyunjin

(4,677 words) - large

summary ➣

“I’d punch you, but that’d ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

A day before their English exam and now Hyunjin decides to make up for lost cuddle time... Y/N’s goal to study in earnest is instantly brought to a screeching halt as he faces off with a gorgeous and needy boyfriend who can never keep his hands to himself.

genre ➣ fluff

requested - 👍

.・゜-: ✧ :- .・゜-: ✧ :-   -: ✧ :-゜・. -: ✧ :-゜・．

A coral flush from the early evening skies draped across the room, the entwined fingers dangling from the edge of the mattress stilling as the sunlight nearly flickered - wavering under the weight of the wistful sighs that clung to every surface. Two bookbags rested slung against a post of a bed’s footboard, untouched, and a tangle of limbs stretched out across sheets, unfurling in a massive breath of relief.

All Hyunjin could hear as he leaned his head against Y/N’s chest was the low stutter of his heartbeat with every time he let his kisses trace the palm he brought to his lips. Only a year together and he’s memorized it all, the echoes in Y/N’s chuckles, the melodies of his heartbeat, the divots in his spine as he’d draw shapes into it with the faded moonlight as his guide. Setting Y/N’s heart alight was just second nature now.

He knew he couldn’t totally distract Y/N from his attempts to study for their exam tomorrow, but a little stammer in Y/N’s steady, peaceful breaths, setting a few flecks of sunlight ablaze every now and then as he kneaded his hands into the thighs that framed his waist was good enough to curb his desire’s wanderlust… For now… 

Hyunjin’s yearning could only be sated for so long until he couldn't hold himself back from diving into Y/N’s waters and sailing across his waistline.

Y/N peeked under the textbook he was totally paying attention to, and watched twines of the sunlight thread itself between Hyunjin’s hair, dancing across his skin in a joyful parade of gold and silver. It made sticking to the words and diagrams on those pages really hard, seeing that brilliance play along Hyunjin’s shoulders and holding himself back from having his lips take its place. He shuffled further up the bed, causing a whine from Hyunjin to flutter up into the air and be taken away by the swaying of the curtains.

Hyunjin only nestled himself further into Y/N’s chest, pressing his cheek to Y/N’s stomach and staring vacantly out the bay window on the other side of the bedroom. That window was a looking glass into a world they vowed would be theirs one day to conquer, an ivory painted gateway to their safe haven. 

These four walls - or anywhere above the clouds or between horizons that Hyunjin’s melodic voice and bright smile would take them - is their space. The grounds in which they’ve tread upon the most, where they’ve planted their roots and watched them blossom into the moon-stained tulips Hyunjin always sticks in Y/N’s hair whenever they trip too hard on the bliss they pass between their teeth and use the forest path behind Y/N’s house to regain their footing. They’ve carved so many memories into these walls, light grey paint stained by the rose-tinted haze that clouds Hyunjin’s vision and sends him careening out of orbit whenever Y/N’s beautiful, radiant laughter weaves into the air.

Here, this room, is where they’ve shed their insecurities like the violet hummer of twilight against their skin. Every morning they spent together, Y/N could feel it flee from Hyunjin’s lips as they danced upon the curves of his sun-sculpted silhouette. The aurora blues of the broken dawn never tasted so sweet.

With Hyunjin, the thorns in Y/N’s sides always seemed to bloom into the most beautiful flowers. And the way Hyunjin would tug so delicately on their petals - Y/N’s waist in Hyunjin’s hands like pieces into place - it made Y/N feel weightless. As if the salty sea spray of their favourite place on earth could just carry him across the strawberry sands of that shoreline and leave him falling helplessly into the warm, gentle tides of Hyunjin’s embrace.

“I think it’s time for a study break…” Hyunjin fell face-first through the silence and left it in a heap at the foot of the bed, lifting himself up from between Y/N’s legs and turning around to straddle him, legs seizing his waist in the same way the charming sparkle in Y/N’s smile and that coy glimmer that’d catch itself in Y/N’s eyes when their sunsets settles upon them just right caught Hyunjin speechless. 

He reached up to bring down Y/N’s textbook from in front of his face to get a better look at the canopy of stars Y/N always held in his tired gaze. No matter how many times Hyunjin makes excuses to steal a few more glances at those flurry of lights, frozen in time, that rush he feels swelling in his heart, the desire that rose to his throat and left him nothing but a bumbling mess of incoherent thought feels just like the first time it happened…

It was a school trip to a few historical sites in Rome, but the beautiful decay in the stone that was almost poetic, and the wonder of the cloudless sky pierced by spires of marble were the least of his concerns as he was granted the opportunity - with a few pulled strings and pleads to Y/N’s friends - to sit across from Y/N at a class-wide dinner. 

The way those dimmed lights hung suspended across Y/N’s upturned lips in this entrancing, hypnotic glow; the gentle pulse of the music in the floor beneath them making him feel as if they were the only ones there; how Y/N said his name in this low, lilting melody that practically made him melt into his seat. Hyunjin was surprised he managed to stumble his way through the night without succumbing to the joy that burst through his veins and made him weak in the knees.

He was lost and treading in a sea of clouds. Those eyes, the touch that wound around his shoulders as they began to lag behind the group getting to know each other, the scattered cobbles that held all of Hyunjin’s fumbled words as they fell from between his teeth. He was lost in all of it.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be found...

Y/N brought the book down into his lap to see Hyunjin postured up, leaning forward to steal a curious chuckle from between Y/N’s lips with a kiss. “Just a few more pages… Then I’m all yours, babe.” Y/N said as he soaked in the warmth of the smiles that framed their kisses. His voice, wrung out, low and hoarse, scratching at the surface of Hyunjin’s cheeky smile.

“Really?!” Hyunjin’s lips pursed and contorted into a pout, feigning an annoyance he knew he couldn’t maintain as the hands dangling on the edges of his waist brought the corners of his mouth straight up. “This dumb English book’s been more of a cockblock tonight than Changbin at junior prom!” The words left Hyunjin with a shiver as they both tried to conceal a disgusted shudder at the mere thought of that night.

“That’s giving way too much credit to this book.” Y/N leaned into the hands that cradled his cheeks, meeting Hyunjin’s lips halfway once more and passing a gentle hum between their melding tongues. He closed his eyes under the weight of Hyunjin’s touch, a blissful groan rising out of him as tender kisses began to make their way down his neck. Y/N tried to think of anything except for the evening Changbin basically spent hanging from Y/N’s arm, he - and practically everyone else - found a way to weave themselves into every memory Y/N and Hyunjin were trying to weave into that glorious night sky that they swore was made just for them. 

That ivory moonlight and the way it spilled against Y/N’s frame, sapphire specks of light caught flickering in Hyunjin’s eyes, the temptation lit between their slowly entwining hands. All there was to remember that night, now, were the wilted daisies of the sunrise after, with Y/N and Hyunjin looking after their gaggle of misfits who they call friends, weathered stars in their eyes still waiting for that dance in the middle of that gymnasium floor. They’ve made up for it a thousand times over, dressed in matching sweaters and the cool glow in the refrigerator light as they carved circles into the creaks in the floorboards of Y/N’s kitchen. It was no prom, it was no parade of sunset stained tulips and cherry tinted promises whisked away in breathless frenzies, but it was theirs. 

If only Changbin listened to them when the entire school was talking about how someone was going to spike the punch.

“You’re not worried about this exam, like, at all?” Y/N said, a slight whine in his voice as he kneaded his fingers tenderly into the back of Hyunjin’s head. Something made his knuckles tighten as Hyunjin practically gave out under the fires in his touch and leaned into Y/N’s shoulder, a gentle groan biting deeper into Y/N’s skin.

“Nope.” Hyunjin lifted his face from the curve of Y/N’s neck to cut with a curt response, but it was dragged out with a delighted drawl as Y/N stroked his hair back and tucked some behind his ear.

Hyunjin cut in instantly, kissing the fingertips that idled against his cheeks and hung lazily from his neck

“Not even a little bit…?” Y/N wanted to be surprised, he wanted to roll his eyes out of annoyance, but he didn’t know what else he could have been expecting from Hyunjin. He remembered watching Hyunjin bid his integrity and his GPA farewell a long time ago with a sigh of cynical acceptance in their school cafeteria. Kissing the fingertips that idled against his neck and hung lazily from the tattered collar of a sweatshirt that was probably Hyunjin’s, Y/N attempted to steel himself with a sharp breath and brought his attention back to his textbook.

Resisting the gravity of Hyunjin’s eyes has always been difficult, but not as difficult as right now. The shine in Hyunjin’s tired eyes, ones he knew always stayed lit with this captivating shimmer no matter if they were bright and jovial as the morning sun - like their walks to school hand-in-hand in attempts to shake off the blues of the early dawn - or as worn out as an autumn afternoon - like those coffee-stained Sundays hidden away in Hyunjin’s old bed, Y/N on his chest as they watched the rain carve shapes of silver into his windows. It was one of the many things that made Y/N feel as if he never had much breath to spare.

“Noop.”

“Why am I surprised? We literally spent our last study session for our history class unironically watching all the Disney princess movies.” Y/N threw his book down to his side and finally gave in to the wishes of Hyunjin’s pleading gaze. How the shattered starlight was scattered between Hyunjin’s eyes, and how Hyunjin always knew how to use it, Y/N wanted to hate it so badly. Hyunjin let a smile peak through his pursed lips the moment Y/N craned his neck over and let it mold a couple kisses to Y/N’s cheeks.

“They were historical, were they not?” Hyunjin retorted, a joy pooling in him as Y/N whipped his head back with a scoff. A nestle into his side was all Y/N earned from that, Hyunjin taking Y/N’s free arm and pulling it tighter around his own shoulders.

He always sought such pleasure in distracting Y/N, it’s as if as soon as they stride through Y/N’s doorway with a goal in mind, he assures them that they will take as many steps to get there as possible. He’ll touch, prod and tease Y/N until he crumbles, caves in and takes Hyunjin down into the grey and white ocean of Y/N’s sheets and turns another day of weathering sunlight and half-assed plans etched into the air into nothing but history. A memory to bloom in the kisses that’d drape from their necks like diamonds.

They make darkening horizons yet another blurred line between their faded breaths, another harmony in their chorus as they sing their vows of affection to the canopies of stars that hung frozen in time above them. The ridge of Y/N’s roof is the top of their world. Y/N between Hyunjin’s thighs as they watched the afternoon sun bleed black; their endless conversations that even made the moon grow tired breathed life into those barren, night skies when  these two love-struck assholes had better things to do than to let the indigos that settled between their hands relax and settle in its midnight haze.

The scars of their sleepless nights and restless mornings run deep beneath their fingers, and the blush that flourishes under Y/N’s cheeks whenever they rekindle that admiration seared into their skin runs deeper.

“You need some serious help…” A twitch flickered across Y/N’s lips as his deadpanned voice trudged through the room, and he let his eyes lazily follow Hyunjin as he straightened himself and smoothly slinked back in between Y/N’s legs, their interlocked stares never breaking for even the slightest of breaths for the dim desk lamp on Y/N’s bedside table. The radiance in Hyunjin’s coy smile made all lights pale in comparison, the axis that sends Y/N spinning.

“Yeah, I would like some serious help with getting you to stop thinking about your exam worth half your grade tomorrow.” Hyunjin cocked his head and stole a pointed glare toward the menace that was the study of classic Russian literature by Y/N’s side - five-hundred pages of it resting beneath Y/N’s heavy hand. All Hyunjin wanted to do was to steal the spotlight and thread his fingers between Y/N’s, he wants it more and more with every time they untangle as they split off in the first period.

Y/N tried not to let his mouth gape for too long, Hyunjin might latch onto his annoyance and make it his plaything. “You really are a man of the people, having all my best interests at heart.” A sarcastic hand to his heart and a mock fondness taking over the glow on Y/N’s face, it was Hyunjin’s turn to pout. The triumph ran so sweet on Y/N’s tongue, and he could see longing stir in Hyunjin’s loosening frown. He wanted to plunge into Y/N’s waters and wipe that smug look right off his face. 

Y/N was the most beautiful person ever to Hyunjin - the grace in his hands as they rested on his waist, that shimmer in his eyes, those brash and snarky smiles that he’d shine whenever he finally gets confident enough to say that he loves himself almost as much as Hyunjin loves him - but Hyunjin knew that he rocked the victorious smirk the best. He tried to ignore the sparks of pride that lapped at his heart when he saw Y/N’s chest swell, and focused harder on stealing it back - meeting Y/N’s words halfway with a tongue between his teeth.

“I’m a man of honour and chivalry, what can I say?” Hyunjin shrugged before resting his hands by Y/N’s sides and leaning in, pressing his forehead to Y/N’s. He reveled in the soft murmur he received and let his lips hover a hair’s breadth from Y/N’s for the most excruciating few moments of both of their lives. Y/N dared not look down, it’d just make it worse. And Hyunjin tried not to falter over his own attempts to torment the love of his life, a growing weakness settling in the grooves of his heart where Y/N’s fire has singed a thousand times over. “You are my people, baby…” Hyunjin smoothed a hand over Y/N’s cheek. The burn of his scarlet blush that ran under his fingertips, Hyunjin didn’t feel a thing, as all he was focusing on bringing himself closer, closer-

“You just got sentimental on me to try and scrounge up extra cuddle time…” Y/N pulled back just as their stars were about to align, leaving Hyunjin frozen in space, absent from reality with a mouth hung open in pure disgust, agony and shock as he was nudged away from Y/N with his shoulders. “Nice try...”

“YOU DID NOT JUST-” Hyunjin shot straight up, his voice tore through the walls and whipped up stray papers like a whirlwind. He balanced himself between Y/N’s legs once more as he tried to center himself in his dazed, awestruck state. Did Y/N really just- no… He didn’t, he couldn’t… There was no evidence of this suave and sadistic Y/N anywhere in his database, one that left him stumbling, scrambling for air. The only attempts at smoothness that his Y/N ever made left them both face-first in a terrible inside joke neither of them actually remember or with the night catching his tongue, leaving Hyunjin to fill in the blanks and kiss it better. It was painful to experience, yet it was the most adorable thing ever. 

This, though… This was unacceptable… 

“This is sacrilege! Slander! Pure villainy and treachery!” Hyunjin beat lightly against Y/N’s legs, whatever strength he had wearing down in an instant as the echoes of Y/N’s hearty laughter took flight.

“You really had to pull out the entire thesaurus, huh?” The small smile on Y/N’s face only shone even brighter as he heard Hyunjin whine and collapse into him, arms wrapping around Y/N and rubbing anxiously down his spine. “You do it to me all the time~” The little whine that trickled from Y/N’s lips really didn’t help Hyunjin fuel the flames of his anger, they shrunk away and withered to ash the moment he locked eyes with Y/N again. Hyunjin can never, ever withstand the power of the stars suspended in Y/N’s eyes. He doesn’t know why he still tries when he knows he’s going to get swept off his feet by Y/N’s summer breeze and carried into the clouds.

Hyunjin lifted his pressed cheek from Y/N’s shoulder and draped his hands in the curves of his neck - his second home whenever he wasn’t under this roof.

“I’ve lived long enough to see myself become the villain.” Their intertwined chuckles set the air alight between them, but as soon as it eased between Hyunjin’s teeth, an exasperated pout made its way back onto his face. Y/N just shook his head, trying his hardest not to give in and reached back over to his textbook that hung for dear life on the bed - not forgetting to brush his lips against Hyunjin’s hand and wrist as he bent down. “No cuddles yet, I really need to study so no dirty tricks.”

”“Please~” Hyunjin shook Y/N by the shoulders as his gaze dropped down to the words on the textbook pages, but they were nothing but a blur as he was being jostled around. “You look so soft and huggable today~” Tipping Y/N’s chin up to get a better look at that endearing blush that bloomed across his cheeks like the patches of hydrangeas that line his daydreams, he could feel the air being sapped out of him, Y/N’s brilliance beating him senseless. “Why TODAY OF ALL DAYS do you have to look this hot!?” 

Hyunjin eyed Y/N’s frayed head of hair, still singed by Hyunjin’s merciless caresses from the walk home; the way Hyunjin’s sweater left Y/N in swathes of thick, gray fabric and how he made it look better than Hyunjin ever could by just sitting there with a tired smile whose glow is probably from the chapstick they share between kisses. His hands, the way they sculpt him and seize him, as if every one of his curves and edges, every inch of his skin was meant to be appraised by the sparks that follow in Y/N’s delicate touch. The way Y/N’s gaze even held him like a treasure - the gold that Y/N always caught in his eyes whenever his glance fell upon Hyunjin, it always made him feel like the only person he’ll ever see.

Daybreak in an endless night, that's what Y/N is to him, and all he wants to do is to pierce the dawn and submerge it in their shared heaven as he takes Y/N by his waist and makes the rest a blur of dancing light.

“Because the universe is plotting our downfall by making soulmates out of a horny lunatic and a guy who just wants to pass his English class.”

Hyunjin tried to hide his smile when the word ‘soulmates’ escaped Y/N’s lips in such a haphazard way, it nearly made him melt in the hands that caressed his sides. “Which one am I?” 

“You-”

Y/N’s grasp fastened onto Hyunjin’s hips and with a twist of his body, he rolled them over, Hyunjin’s world for a split second was a gyrating blur that ripped a piercing shriek from his throat. Hyunjin was pressed into the bed, Y/N’s thighs molding his waist as he held their hands in a knot above Hyunjin’s head, and tides of ivory and silver that rippled around them nearly submerging their gleeful giggles. Y/N leaned down with a teasing smirk plastered onto his face - one that Hyunjin couldn’t even be mad at , and a triumphant glow lit in his cheeks as he watched Hyunjin struggle to ease a shaken breath from his shy smile.

“I’d punch you, but that’d ruin that pretty little face of yours...” Y/N’s voice settled beneath the waves of their sheets, a low rumble rolling from his tongue. It almost almost made the cocky glimmer in Hyunjin’s eyes falter - that never happens.

Hyunjin shakily smoothed his fingers against the ones entwined with his, letting out a deep sigh before Y/N let his hands go. “Fine, you win…” Hyunjin’s quiet chuckle barely breached the surface, his chest still practically hollow, empty as he was still soaking in the light of Y/N’s devilishly bold gaze. Admitting defeat isn’t really Hyunjin’s thing, but maybe letting Y/N focus on his studies for a little bit isn’t the worst idea. “You may have won the battle,” Hyunjin’s snark overtook him as he rolled to the side with an accusatory finger pointed toward Y/N’s textbook, which sat in mock innocence on his bedside table. “But I’ll win the war, just you watch.”

Y/N couldn’t believe that Hyunjin was actively glaring at a piece of homework… “You’re talking to a textbook, I think you need a little more sleep…” Y/N nudged Hyunjin’s stomach, earning another little squeal that was like music to his ears before he postured up and off Hyunjin’s thighs. He pressed himself back against the headboard, taking his textbook with one arm and opening the other for Hyunjin.

“And you’re reading a textbook, so I think you’re just as crazy.” Hyunjin grimaced at the very prospect of having to crack open one of those dusty books, but a pointed look from Y/N snapped him back into reality. “I’ll just take a small nap, I guess. If you’re really worried about the exam then I’m not gonna stop you for too much longer.” He took Y/N’s offer and clung to his side, his leg strewn across both of Y/N’s as he fed into his temptation to burrow deeper into Y/N’s inviting, comforting warmth.

“Really…? Where’d you put the old Hyunjin?” Y/N’s hand absent-mindedly made its way to Hyunjin's messy, dark hair, threading his fingers through it slowly, tenderly, taking on the rhythm of the pulse on the evening horizon. 

Hyunjin tried to speak between groans of satisfaction as Y/N began to massage into his scalp, words leaving his mouth languished, clumsy, but he meant every one he said. “I really care about you, baby, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact. You care about your grades, so I will too.” Looking up to meet Y/N’s gaze, he shone a grin as the light in his eyes was waiting right there for him. “But don’t expect this kind of mercy ever again… Ya hear?”

“Affirmative, love.” Y/N nodded, a giggle overtaking his words and billowing into a calm, attentive quiet that submerged the light and stilled the drapes at the window.

“So… You wanna cuddle when you’re done?” Hyunjin stepped carefully through the silence, his breath soaking into Y/N’s chest. His voice was so soft, yet clear. It cuts through him like a ship through the rolling tide, but it’s as tender as the shimmer of the pearls on Y/N’s shore where they spread their reckless abandon thin and carve circles with their sunset-lit slow dances. 

Painting all Y/N’s lonely nights gold with his joyful light, draping against his body like honey whenever they’d sing into each other’s skin, it’s all Y/N ever wanted but never thought he deserved.

“Of course, big spoon or little spoon?”

“Knife.”

Hyunjin shifted to assume his position, slotted between Y/N’s legs. The shape they etched into the worn night sky as they fell asleep to the songs strung between their chests always happened to be the same, and Hyunjin - shuffling up on Y/N’s chest to play with the glowing twines of the moonlight that settled against their skin - decided to finally give a name to it. 

It was a routine they’d fall into with every dull moment that yearned for their shine, as soon as waves of bedsheets crashed against them. Like puppets on strings of sunlight, the days were theirs to waste away. Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Y/N’s torso, stifling a breathy giggle in one of the many sweatshirts he lent to Y/N and suspiciously ‘lost’ as Y/N brought his book down to rest on top of Hyunjin’s head.

“I love you, Jinnie.” Y/N’s words were like molten gold as Hyunjin felt them melt on his back and course through him.

“I love you more, Y/N…” Hyunjin’s still curious touch hung on the edge of Y/N’s skin, sketching tentative circles and hearts into Y/N’s thighs. Just like the ones they’ve etched into countless summer sunsets when the rolling hills on the border of their town, the railroad that cut their favourite forest in two, the streets starved of their sapphire lit parades under street lights - when it was all a canvas for them to colour with their freedom and carelessness. “I know you’re gonna do great on the exam, please don’t be too nervous… Okay?”

“Okay, I won't be…” Y/N’s gentle voice barely stirred the coppers of the evening sunlight as he scratched gingerly at Hyunjin’s nape. Seeing Hyunjin’s smile slowly rise to Y/N’s response, it nearly made his veins burst.

“That’s my man…”

 The tides of greater expectations than to meet on the dewy fields at noon rolled in quicker than they ever thought -a summer break passing in a fleeting beat of a butterfly’s wings - the butterflies that ambled about in Y/N’s stomach whenever Hyunjin would lean in to kiss away some ice cream that Y/N would always get on the tip of his nose. But they would be hard pressed to find anyone who’s made his trudge through senior year easier than each other. 

They would be hard pressed, though, to find anyone who’s made this trudge through senior year easier than each other. Hand in hand, they’re sure that the long, winding roads that their future has in store for them will just be another whisper in the wind, a rumor passed between trees.

Together, they’ll make the sunlight bend to their will, wrap the wind around their entwined fingers. The colours dancing on the horizon are theirs for the taking.

[tarousprettybaby]

Look at me Sweets (Day 2)

Day 2 for Kinktober: Gojo Satoru

Kink: Mirror Sex

Word Count: 999

Warning(s): Uhh MINORS DNI, smexy times, afab reader, biting, blood kink if you squint, mirror sexxx, uhm past-tense cunnilingus (I don't know how to refer to this lol), creampie (wrap it before you tap it folks), I think that's it, lemme know if I should add something.

Notes from the Author: Second day of kinktober, that I initially missed. My goal is to post this in the morning and post the actual day 3 story later today. I guess these are all gonna be around drabble size, but that might change for the last story ngl.

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“Awww, don’t tell me you’re tired already, sweets. I’m nowhere done with you~.” A mischievous Gojo Satoru mumbles into your inner thigh.

He had just finished bringing you to your second high of the night, and it had only been around 35 minutes. As your brain barely made it back to Earth from orbit, you’re pulled to your feet by the man, and borderline dragged to the end of the bed.

When did he take off his clothes, you think to yourself. You wouldn’t know, so out of it that you barely registered when you were brought into his arms and your lips connected with his.

The words, “Look over there sweets,” cuts through your shared kiss, and as you do as he says, your breath hitches. It’s a mirror, large and perfectly centered on the bed. That must be new… is your thought. “I wanna see you, sweets, see you come undone for me. Can you do that for me?”

Your first thought is to roll your eyes at his cockiness; even if he was correct about how this would end, did he have to say it so plainly? But before you can reply positively, his teeth are at your neck. Gently nipping and biting at it, never breaking the skin like you wish he would do.

He pulls away suddenly before taking a seat on the edge, legs spread wide and blue eyes looking at you expectantly. You know what Satoru wants, after all… he’s a sucker for you riding him,

It happens quickly. You backing into Satoru and sinking yourself down onto his cock, but your eyes don’t view it in the mirror, which apparently, Satoru doesn’t like.

“Ah, ah, ah sweets. Pretty girl, you need to look in the mirror, look at me while you fuck yourself on my cock, yeah?” his hand wraps around your neck in time with his words, roughly taking your jaw in it and forcing your gaze to the mirror. Your whimpers are low as you look at the mirror, seeing the remnants of your past orgasms gushing out.

As you start to move, setting a relatively quick pace, his grip on your jaw only tightens, soon tilting your head to the side as his face nuzzles into the nape of your neck. Your shared moans and whines of pleasure fill the room as Satoru begins matching your pace, thrusting upwards into your cunt.

“Fuck sweets, you’re clenching around me so hard. Gonna cum around me, shit, cum around this cock?” his words still have a teasing lilt, as if he thinks you should be embarrassed by how quickly you’re reaching your next high.

That’s when you take notice. Somehow his grip is different on you. The hand on your hip is tighter, and the one on your jaw holds you more steadily. If you could see his face, you’re sure you’d see that hungry look he had that first time you’d met. The one where he looks five seconds away from going insane, a few seconds away from giving you the sweetest high and his everything.

Your thoughts of anticipation seem to be one of the last factors pushing you into ecstasy and the hard press of his fangs on your neck. Your breath hitches and the world seems to slow as you wait for the feeling of him piercing into your skin. And when it happens, your body instantly arches against his, unable to continue bouncing on his cock as you fall into the abyss.

His own deep moans fill the room around you as well, though they seem far away and not of this world.

“Mmm, ~ fuck sweets taste so good, always so delicious for me, only for me.” He groans out, teeth plunging once again into your neck, unable to get enough. His hips don’t stop rutting into you either, so close to reaching his high that when it hits him, he barely comprehends what’s happening. He doesn’t stop feeding on you, though.

A fact that somewhere in the back of your cloudy mind starts to concern you.

“Satoruuu, need to stop. Can’t think, getting light-headed..” is all you can bear to voice out. But he hears you loud and clear, and reluctantly he stops, panting. His arms wrap around you and hold you close to his chest as he begins murmuring sweet nothings into your eye, both of you slowly working down from your respective highs. When your senses come back to you, you look back to the mirror, expecting to see him before you scoff.

“Satoru, why the fuck did you put me in front of this mirror?” you question, a teasing and sarcastic tone on your tongue.

He huffs out before stating, “Cause I wanted to see you, and for you to see meeee, duh. Wanted to get a better view of me fucking your br-”

“Satoru. You aren’t visible in the mirror.”

“…”

The silence is deafening as you hold back your giggles at the man’s apparent forgetfulness of his condition.

He quickly sits up, looking in the mirror himself, before groaning.

“Fuck, I forgot that was a thing.” He says, in a rare moment of embarrassment, an embarrassment that only you are privy to seeing. A fact that always makes your heart warm.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you laugh out, “I could barely register the fact that I couldn’t see you through, so I won’t tell if you won’t” your gaze is now directed directly at him.

He smiles at that, leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, the metallic taste of your blood still on his tongue.

“Sounds like a deal to me, Sweets,” he says, arms now wrapping tightly around you, pinning you underneath him as you both enjoy the other’s presence.

“Satoru, I need to go clean myself off.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I swear, let me go.”

“No.”

A sigh leaves your lips before murmuring, “Damn, who knew vampires were so clingy.”

“AM NOT!”

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©Tarousprettybaby 2021-2022. please don't repost work.

[nautiscarader]

phinbella ferbnessa canderemy Inappropriate location Morning sex Cum swallowing

Phinbella - cum swallowing

Isabella knows how important is for Phineas to keep his workstation clean, and so, if she decides to destress her boyfriend, she ensures that no drop of his cum stains the designs nor falls onto electornics.

Ferbnessa - inappropriate location

Both Ferb and Vanessa have a thing for trying it in odd locations. They have done it in almost empty parking lots on the hood of his car, they have joined the mile high club, and the low-Earth orbit one...

Canderemy - morning sex

From gente morning butterfly kisses, to equally subtle caresses of her breasts, to finally worshipping her sex - Jeremy knows how to wake Candace up and make sure she gets a truly royal treatment every day - though it becomes complete with a cup of strong coffee.

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Din Djarin Biker AU that nobody needs

@reluctantlyresponsibleadult​, this is for you, babe.

Bendura is one of four small moons orbiting a gas giant nestled in the far corner of the galaxy. It’s a desert - water is scarce, and resources are finite, as nobody wants to spend the credits required on fuel just to trade with these backwater biker rats. 

The Clubs rule the moon.

Bikes are a way of life on Bendura. They aren’t exactly low maintenance, but tech is scarce, and they’re relatively easy to service, if you know what you’re doing.

Resources like water, food, shelter, spice - these are heavily guarded by the Clubs. 

There are two Clubs to watch for on Bendura. To the west, the Fugitives. To the east, the Damned. The barren desert that sprawls through the center of the moon is called the Warzone, and you’ve got to be either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to enter the ‘zone.

Din Djarin is a Fugitive. Of course, he goes by Mando - identities are heavily protected on Bendura, and if you’re associated with a Club, you can guarantee that there’s a hit out for you. So, Din goes by Mando. He’s been with the Fugitives since he was little more than a kid, and now, he’s their muscle, their enforcer, and he’s got a hell of a reputation as an assassin. Mando keeps his face covered at all times. Rumor out east is, if you ever get close enough to see the color of Mando’s eyes, you won’t live to tell the tale.

Deep down, though, Din wonders about the things he has to do for the Fugitives. Sometimes it bothers him, all the blood and killing, and for what? Seems to him that there’s plenty of water to go around if folks would just share. It’s spice that’s the problem. 

But try telling that to a spicer.

So Din grits his teeth and does his job. He’s a lifer, he’s in deep. There’s no way out for him. You don’t just quit the Clubs, not after what he’s done.

Mando rides an old, beat up Sportster that he inherited from his folks. It’s iconic, but it needs a lot of work to keep running, and the guys like to give him shit for it. Mando is constantly working on this bike because it’s constantly breaking down beneath him, but he loves it.  

One day, after a particularly gnarly job at the edge of the ‘zone, Mando meets you on the road. You stop and help him fix up his bike, which would annoy him and also kind of intrigue him.  You introduce yourself as Beta. You’re traveling alone and you’re headed through the western border, out east, straight into the heart of the ‘zone. You seem component, but you’re small and kind of pretty from what Din can tell, and the ‘zone is no place for a nomad, especially a lady. So Din decides to tag along with you under the guise of needing to complete some business, just because he doesn't want you to run into any trouble. There’s always trouble in the ‘zone.

In the interest of self preservation, Din opts against using his biker name. “Mando” has a hell of a reputation on the moon, and for some reason, Din can’t stand the thought of seeing the spark dim in your eyes when you learn his true identity. There’s blood on his hands, and you’d be right to be afraid of him. 

So he introduces himself as Din, a nomad, keeping his colors wound up tightly in his pack. It’s suicide to wear colors in the ‘zone, anyway.

It’s several days of travel, and just your presence alone is forcing Din to confront some deep-seated beliefs - sexism, the moral gray area that he has to ignore to do his job, his loyalty to the Club, also, falling for this random, very mysterious girl who knows her way around a bike just as well as she seems to know her way around the ‘zone... 

You’re driving Din crazy.

Anyway, Din escorts you through the ‘zone. It’s barren and empty. Depressing. Things happen. Din’s oil pan is busted and he’s leaking oil everywhere, but Din is a little leery of stopping somewhere this close to rival territory. You force him to follow you to this old beat up mobile home in the middle of the desert, and y’all find this old ass biker dude named Slim. Who, in my head, is not slim. Go figure.

Slim seems to know you. “Beta!” he greets with a toothless grin, and the two of you have this very cryptic conversation in front of Din that basically amounts to, “yeah, girl, you can have whatever the fuck you want here, and your friend, too.” Din gets his bike fixed up free of charge, new oil and all.

You stop at a bar for the evening and things get pretty tense with a pack of nomads. Din gets all hot and bothered and jealous. You tell him you can take care of yourself, but you’re secretly flattered by his attention. The nomads start following you, and you and Din take them out in true enforcer fashion. This is a whole ass scene in my head, guys, with explosions and lots of sexy ‘look how good we are at killing’ type of flirting.

The closer you get to enemy territory, the more antsy Din gets. Like what the fuck are you thinking, going into the Damned’s turf? You aren’t scared but you should be. Hell, Din is scared and he knows he can take care of himself. What business could you possibly have out here anyway? You’ve been pretty tight lipped about that.

A small scene under the stars. Din has yet to take his bandana off, but you notice that his eyes are a deep, dark brown. Like rich, fertile earth, the type that’s rarely seen in the desert. He tells you a story about his parents, and you think his voice is beautiful, all raspy and deep and sand-coated. You wonder what his body is like beneath all that leather, how it would feel to shed him of his armor and press your cheek into his chest, feel the vibration of his voice as he speaks, the heat of his skin against your own.

You finally make it through the ‘zone, and Din realizes that you are headed straight into Damned territory. He flips shit on you.

He’s worried.  

You have a big fight, and Din can’t quite understand why you’re so insistent on sending him away, telling him you don't need him now, that you’d never needed him, that he should head back west where he belongs. You storm away, and he follows you at a distance, heartbroken, confused, terrified, wishing he’d have kissed you on those smart-ass lips just once, wondering how you’d taste on his tongue, sick to his stomach at the idea of you alone in the most dangerous area of the moon.

So Din follows you. He follows you right up to the Damned’s clubhouse. 

He doesn’t realize where he’s headed until he’s there. You unwrap your leathers from your sissy bar as a bunch of well armed men greet you with smiles and backslaps. Din’s heart sinks in his chest as he sees the colors you’re wearing. “PRESIDENT” the bottom rocker of your leather screams.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The guys have spotted him now, are making advances, threatening with their guns, and Din realizes just how deeply he’s fucked up. He’s escorted the rival Club’s president across the ‘zone, had acted as her body guard and protector for a week. Even if he could escape here - and there’s no way in hell - Din can never go home, not after this.

His life is literally over. 

You call of the guys with a sharp whistle. "He’s with me,” you say to them, and they relax immediately. They don’t seem to recognize Din, and it’s a very good thing. 

You walk over to Din, killing his bike, and pull him to his feet. “Come on, Mando,” you hiss his biker name in his ear, and Din freezes, dread sending a sharp shiver down his spine. “We need to talk.”

[foxpaws10]

Don’t Forget Me When I Let The Water Take Me

It was the red hair which had done him in. His eye had latched on and for the first time in a very long time he felt his chest lift with hope. But the man had turned, eyes deadened and brown, not blue, and hope had been squashed under disappointment.

He should know by now that he wouldn’t ever see him again. Kept pushing it down down down. There were more important things to focus on than the ghost of a boy.

But as Andrew sat in the trenches, clothes soaked with mud, rain and the blood of his men, his mind conjured up old memories. Perhaps the memories were the only thing keeping him sane. Giving him a reprieve from the constant onslaught of bombs and gunfire, of men screaming and crying, of rats and lice and flies.

He held tightly to the image of the boy - because that’s what they had been, boys - and he closed his eyes against the fireworks of shrapnel in the otherwise dark sky.

He thought of nights spent on rooftops, smoking stolen cigarettes and making up stories about the bright stars above.

He thought of Nathaniel, and Nate, and Abram and Junior - of Neil.

Neil, always Neil to Andrew.

How his mother cursed them and threatened them and warned them. That boy was the son of the devil, the women of the village swore. They weren’t wrong. Neils father was the devil, with his burning temper and iron fists raining blows down on his son, painting him crimson and lilac.

But Neil, he was mischief. He wasn’t the fire and brimstone his parents raised him to be. He was sneaky and sly and a liar right down to his toes. He was a thief and he burned, oh how he burned, but it was life which coursed through him. Life which lit him up brighter than any star in the sky and drew Andrew into orbit.

He remembered the first time he saw him; galloping a chestnut mare across the fields which separated Andrew’s house from the Laird’s. They were both shiny as copper, Neils hair a fiery crown of curls, the horse dipped in blood - all but her muzzle which was a bright white.

Devils son? Well he looked the part. He took joy in the twin curls which curved like horns by his temples when his hair was wet; a consequence of either being caught in a downpour or Andrew dunking him in the river.

The river. They spent most of their days by it. Stealing the Laird Hingston’s fish, swimming in the clear depths, skimming rocks across the surface of the smoother, deeper pools.

The first time they swam, Neil had stripped naked as the day he was born. No shame in his nudity, though cautious about the scars and bruises littering his freckled skin. By the second week, Andrew was down to his underwear and then nothing at all.

They spent hours floating down the flow. Settling in shallow areas where the riverbed pushed up to the surface, keeping them locked in place despite the rushing water. Jumping off the high banks into pools, or swinging off overhanging tree branches.

They’d begun to ride Fox, Neils glorious chestnut mare, down to the river together. She would graze the lush grass along the banks, and Andrew swore she flicked them dissapointed looks every now and again when they were being particularly rowdy. Occasionally she would travel into the water with them, cooling down in the shimmering summer sun. Once, Neil had backflipped off her rear end and nearly had his skull caved in by her hoof.

She was a birthday present from Neils uncle, a Londoner by the name of Stuart Hartford. A strong Irish breed, she was to be used for hunting; covering vast stretches of land and jumping wooden gates and stone walls and deep gulleys. She had a temper worse than Neils some days; her ears would lie flat back against her skull, her nostrils would flare and she’d bare her teeth like a savage while stomping her hooves. Neil had worked through the anger with patience and persistence, and Andrew with a pocket full of sugar cubes.

Despite her bloodline boasting impressive abilities, she was just as happy pottering down country lanes and cobbled streets, loose and relaxed with the two boys riding atop her bareback.

Neil had taught Andrew how to trot, canter and pop a small jump on her. Just in case, he’d said, with a shifty look in his eye.

Andrew liked the speed of her, feeling the unbridled power in her muscles as he pushed her on until her strides swallowed the ground beneath them. Some days it felt like flying, most days it felt like freedom.

Andrew had been tucked into the corner of her stall late one evening, sharing an apple with both Fox and Neil, when he met Stuart Hatford. A man of high class and strange fashion, he was abrupt and rude but entirely harmless. Harmless to the two boys, that is.

Andrew grew to like him, enjoyed listening to him tear apart Nathan Wesninski with whip quick words. Enjoyed even better the day he’d threatened Nathan with his cane, a deadly look in his eye that Andrew had caught Neil mimicking once before.

After that incident they hadn’t seen much of Hatford, but when they did, he was sure to sneak money into pockets and biting remarks into ears.

The last time Andrew had seen Stuart, he’d been sat upon an impressive dark horse. A coat like midnight, shining like stars under a low autumn sun. He had passed Andrew, taking a shortcut through the fields, on the way to peruse the sweets of the bakery. Pulling up beside him, Stuart had made Andrew promise that he would take care of Neil, keep him out of trouble. And had warned that they needed to leave, the sooner the better.

If Andrew knew then what he did now, he would have left that very same day. But he had a brother to look after, one who confessed not long after that he’d knocked up the baker's daughter.

Their mother had been livid, and Andrew had taken the abuse in place for his brother. God only knew what the woman would have done had she found out about Andrew’s own inclinations.

He’d never understood the fascination with girls. Their curves and their high pitched giggles, their swishy skirts and small frames and sweet perfumes. He’d always been drawn to men, their deep voices and strong hands, the lingering musk of sweat and what lay between their legs.

He’d seen two men kiss behind the pub one late evening, when it was safer out in the cold night than their house. Had been fascinated with the hard press of lips and teeth and tongue, how their hands had gripped and tugged and pulled. It was a memory that wreaked havoc in his sleep, leaving him with damp undergarments in the morning and which haunted him on the days he did slide his hand between his legs.

Neil was the first male he ever kissed. Sitting in the corner of Fox’s stall, a puddle of kittens between them. Neils father had ordered him to drown them, but Neil had stowed them away in one of the outbuildings instead. They mewled and tottered between them on stumpy legs, claws digging through their trousers as they climbed into their laps.

Andrew had been sat on his window ledge smoking and watching the last dim light of the sun dipping below the horizon when Neil had stopped below him, wheels of his bike skidding in the loose gravel and dirt. His eyes had been alight with defiance and mischief as he coaxed Andrew to join him. Andrew had learnt early on he wasn’t capable of saying no to that look. It promised mischief and adventure and danger.

Andrew had mounted the bike with Neil balanced on the handlebars, telling him all about his precious find. One of his mothers exotic felines had been caught by a barn cat and given birth to five small kittens. She had hidden them away in a closet to protect them from Nathan and his hounds, but they soon found their voices and she’d been exposed.

They were a grey-blue colour with dark stripes and squashed faces. Andrew marvelled at how small they were, so soft and warm in his hands, with needle sharp claws and teeth. Despite only being a few weeks old they were strong and bold.

He dared a glance at Neil and felt his chest tighten. A bruise was splattered across his jaw, and a half circle of black skin hugged his left eye, but neither could take away from the soft smile curving his lips.

In the flickering lamp light, with the soothing sound of Fox’s heavy breathing and the grinding of her teeth as she grazed from her hay, he looked soft and melting like butter. Andrew wanted to dip his hands into him, to sip from his mouth and feel the steady pulse of his heart.

Neil came from old money produced through blood. He was the heir to the Wesninski estate, but also the Hatford’s. He had wardrobes packed with silks and chiffon, fancy coats and stiff trousers and hard boots. He had a mansion hung with exquisite portraits and oil paintings, curtains which cost more than Andrew’s house, furniture which dated back centuries yet was polished so bright it could have been made yesterday. He had a bed larger than Andrew’s and Aaron’s shared room. He had prospects and future betrothals and a list of universities just waiting to snap him up.

Yet he sat in the dirt of a horse stall, with mud splattered overalls coated in horse hair, a shirt which once might have been white but was perpetually stained yellow from hard work and sweat, boots gone soft and falling apart at the seams. His hair was an unruly uncombed mess atop his head, bright like the sunrise, and his eyes were blue as a summer sky. He smelt like sweat and horse and the Earth. His fingernails were perpetually dirty, no matter what time of day it was. He spent nights walking dark streets or sitting atop rooftops with Andrew, a bastard boy coated in poverty.

Their lives were miles apart, and yet they fit together perfectly. They had the same blase attitude about most of life, a dark humour others shyed away from, and a belief that there had always been something… missing. They had dark days and sharp days and quiet days. But together, they were learning ways to chase away the dark clouds and foreboding shadows.

Neil had been the one bright spark lighting up Andrew’s life from the first day. Everything was on fire, every atom of his being burned and yearned to be swallowed within Neils own blaze.

Andrew could remember, as clear as if it were yesterday, how his stomach had tied itself in knots. How his palms had dampened with sweat, catching the fine hairs of the soft kittens. How dry his mouth had gotten, all the moisture whisked away by nerves.

He could remember the wrinkle of Neils brow as he glanced at him, concern tightening his eyes as he realised something was wrong. The soft murmur of his name, slipping between smooth lips.

Andrew had asked, because he couldn’t bare to be pushed away once he leant in. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost Neil, if Neil looked at him with disgust and swore to never see him again.

But Neil had merely smiled, eyes gone soft and dewy as he set aside a kitten and leant in. His lips were even softer than Andrew had imagined. They were both inexperienced, and yet somehow it was perfect. The fumbling movement of their mouths as they tried to slit together in an even rhythm; the heavy gusts of breath as they tried to breathe and then forgot how to and almost choked on lack of oxygen; the first quick swipe of tongue to dampen the dry stickiness which suddenly turned the quiet kisses loud and sucking; the gut tightening sound Neil made when Andrew lifted a hand to his jaw, careful of the bruising, and tilted him down into the kiss; how they kept trying to get closer, ignoring the mewling and sharp claws of the kittens between them; Fox’s snort as hay dust swirled in her nostrils and she splattered them with wet droplets; how Andrew opened his mouth to breathe and suddenly Neils tongue was on his and it was like the beginning of a universe.

He could remember it all like it was yesterday. As another whizz-bang exploded overhead, he struggled to decide if it was a blessing or a curse. The memories were a warm blanket, a honey soaked film trying to cover the worst memories he’d occurred over the last few years. Where once everything had been bright and golden and beautiful, everything was dark and cold and horrid, leaking blood and guts everywhere. He could slip away for a second, a minute, an hour, and remember the boy he had cherished above all else. But it never lasted.

He didn’t know what happened to Neil. One day he was there, the next he was gone. Slipped out from under his fingertips, stolen on the wind as more bad news about the war blew in.

Andrew had tried to write to him once, but he’d never gotten a reply. He’d tried to find him, but so far there had been no news of a Wesninski or a Hatford in their ranks. Every glance of red hair was a beacon of hope, yet they left nothing but dark disappointment behind.

When the horses passed them, mud splattered and skeletal, he looked for red with a white muzzle. He dreaded the day he’d find it, abandoned on no-mans-land.

A whistle blew further down the line and he heaved a heavy breath before standing, so used to the feel of his clothes stiff and ridged and mud soaked he knew it shouldn’t bother him anymore, yet somehow it still did. He had a team of men to lead, he couldn’t dwell on the past. His brother, a medic now, among them.

Perhaps one day, the war would be over. Today wasn’t yet that day.

They had an advancement planned, a move to gain back what had been taken. A move closer to the enemy. It would be another week before he heard more than whispers travelling down the lines. They had a new battalion joining them in the meantime, due some time tomorrow evening.

Among them, a new translator. Andrew hoped Private Josten would be more help than their last one had been.

{READ ON AO3}

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer Fill - “Caress"

My third fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! I wanted a happy ending for these lovebirds, so pardon my AU. I slammed down the rough draft while vibing hard to Hozier and Ed Sheeran.

PROMPT WORD: CARESS | WORDS: 2246 Rated: "S" for "Soft & Spicy" AO3 Link: "Safe, Warm, and Whole" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Setting: Recently Post-War, Thane Survives AU Summary: "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The soft chill of night air filtered through the open window in their shared flat as Shepard stepped out of the bathroom on sore, aching feet. Fresh from a cold shower, shoulders dropped with fatigue, she managed a smile at him across the room. Thane looked up from his reading. "Siha, how are you feeling?" "Exhausted." She looked it, too. Ever since the war had ended, combat seemed to always take a heavier toll on her body. Her armor powered her through the field, but in their private quarters, she carried herself on tired legs, fresh bruises peeking out from beneath her shirtsleeves. He would kiss them away if he could. Thane stood and guided her into his arms. "Come to bed with me. I think you've earned a good rest." Their flat - if it could even be called a flat - was barebones, no better than any military dormitory she's ever stayed in. White walls, cold floor tiles, and almost no décor to speak of. It was clean, at least. Six months since the war had ended, humanity had made little to no progress reclaiming the comforts they'd enjoyed before the reapers. Still, some inspired soldier had managed to requisition an old bed that was bigger than the standard issue Alliance bunk size - a gift for the legend herself, and her partner. He eased her down onto the sheets with steady arms. "It's too quiet in here," Shepard groaned as she laid down. "I'm sure the Alliance would be willing to relocate us to one of the orbital stations," he said, undressing before joining her in bed. She made an annoyed sound. "They need me here." It was mostly true. The alliance was still uncovering disorganized pockets of reaper forces, most of them in the underground byways of urban centers. It's what she spent her days doing. Strapping on the same old armor and delving into close quarters to fight cannibals, brutes, and whatever other monsters lurked in the dark. He wanted so badly for her to rest, but she wouldn't have it. The three months she spent held up in the field hospital were agony for her, and not simply because she was in pain. That restless mind, her patchwork cybernetic body giving her inhuman reserves of energy that her organic parts simply couldn't keep pace with. Even the Alliance had tried to offer her diplomatic work - something she had laughed off. "Come back when you're ready to let me do my job." Still, Shepard found planetside silence deafening. Sleep was harder to claim without the white noise of a cruiser. She talked often of the thrumming of engines on ships she'd lived on for most of her life. Thane himself rather enjoyed the quiet sounds of Earth, but it didn't much matter to him where they were. As long as she came home to him at night. "What will you do once the ground work is complete?" he said, settling in beside her. "I can't fucking wait," came her muffled response, face stuffed into a pillow. "Maybe then we can get back into space. Help with the Citadel reclamation." She turned to look at him then, squinting against the light on his nightstand. "If that's okay with you." "My love," he said, switching off the light and kissing her forehead, "I would follow you to the edge of the world if you'll have me." She swatted at him weakly. "You're sickeningly sweet." Thane's face contorted in an exaggerated frown, but his voice betrayed his mirth. "I make you sick?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." "I love you too, Siha," he chuckled, and gathered her into his arms. Indeed it had taken him a little while to get used to living with humans and their ample use of sarcasm, but he did understand her. By now he had long since stopped using his translator. Earth was becoming more familiar to him by the day, and he was surprised to find so many humans eager for his help. That he wasn't Alliance didn't seem important when so much needed doing. When he refused to leave her hospital bedside, they busied him with menial tasks around the infirmary and he was surprised to find he enjoyed the small role he had in healing the injured. Most of all, he thanked Arashu each and every day for her unbelievable

blessing, to have Shepard here, curling into his chest, safe, warm, and whole. She wriggled against him, humming quietly as she found a more favorable position with her knee over his and her face in the warm velvety frill of his neck. Soft breaths rolled over him and he trilled in response, the sound vibrating in his chest. They fit together so seamlessly that he could never be sure if she teased him like this deliberately or simply out of comfort, but warmth of her breath over his throat made his body stir in irresponsible ways, considering her state of fatigue. With some amount of guilt, he shifted away from her. She reacted, her arm tightened about his waist to press him close and this time she did it on purpose, gentle lips kissing his throat once, then twice with an open mouth, with a small hum of satisfaction. Her intentions were loud and clear. "I thought you were exhausted," he mused into her hair. Ambient light from outside spilled through their open window and illuminated her in the dreamy shades of nighttime. Her eyes were closed, body tucked tight against him. Like holding the entire world in his arms, he swelled with adoration. "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen. "Mm," he pretended to consider, knowing exactly what she wanted. "I may be able to help. What do you require?" It would be a cold day in hell when he was too tired for her. She kissed his neck again, her palm flattening against the small of his back and dragging it slowly over his backside. "Touch me," she whispered. Warmth bloomed in his chest, the heat of desire washing over him. "It would be my pleasure," he rumbled. Slowly, he pushed her shorts off her hips and eased her on to her back. Eyes closed, licking her lips in contented anticipation, he watched her chest rise and fall with each contented breath. Hands slid across her belly, easing her t-shirt up over her head and she accommodated him, rising just enough to pull it off and flicking it lazily on to the other side of the bed. Relaxed as he'd ever seen, her undressed body laid before him, dotted with scars and stories he knew so well. He pulled himself over her, meeting her lips in an unhurried kiss. She stretched against him, warming beneath his body, hands wandering across the defined lines of his shoulders and spine as though she knew his stripes by memory alone. He gathered her breasts together from where they rolled to her sides and gazed up at her face as he kissed the deliciously soft valley between them. Thumbs running over each hardening peak, he watched her expression as he teased her if only just to see the gleaming edges of her teeth drawing her lower lip into her mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered as he squeezed her flesh gently, closing his lips over first one nipple, then the other. She arched up to meet his eager tongue, heavy breaths rushing from her lungs as though the pressure of his hands drove the air from her body. Beneath him, he could feel her core flex with each flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers "Fuck," she moaned. He couldn't help but watch her, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving against his hands as he stoked her lust from a smolder to an irresistible flame. His gentle mouth began to work its way down across the hard plane of her abdomen. Beneath the scent of standard issue soap, he could smell the salt of her skin, pausing to place an appreciative kiss atop her mound before his hands curled around the juncture of her hips. Her breathing was ragged as his thumbs parted her eager, heated flesh for his appreciation. The first time they'd done this he'd had to talk her down from her insecurities. The memory made him feel possessive, nearly angered by the notion that some other man had turned down privilege of knowing her this way. Thane let his breath ghost over her glistening center, thumbs dragging firmly up and down her folds just to hear her moan for him. The urge

to tease her was irresistible. It was with a knowing smirk that he finally bent his mouth to her, tasting her earthy, salty flesh - her hitched gasps like music to his ears. She told him once that he put human lovers to shame, and he was proud - perhaps the only man in existence who pried the secrets of her pleasure straight from her lips. He knew exactly how to touch her simply because he'd asked. The sounds she made when he laved his tongue over her clit were low and resounding reminders of how painfully hard he was in his shorts. Her fingertips trailed along his sensitive jaw, feeling him work as he ate her greedily. "Don't stop," she whispered. He grinned against her sex, teasing her entrance with two fused fingers, pushing slowly inside her heat only to brush against her center and slip out, again and again. Patiently, he devoured her, walking her closer to the edge one searing second at a time until her head was thrown back, her spine arched off the bed, fingers trembling against his scalp. He loved this. Every time he went down on her his mind trailed over every single time previous - recalling the exact intonation of her voice, the press of her hands, the way she tensed her thighs as she neared the peak of her pleasure. By now, he could tell precisely when to set her off. He edged her for a few seconds longer. She was close, so close. She came with a shout, her clutching fingers carefully telegraphing how long he could continue to draw out her climax before she trembled and sagged, clenching her oversensitive flesh away from his hungry mouth. "Holy shit, Thane," she gasped, heaving for breath and sprawling against the mattress. He climbed atop her and she kissed him without hesitation and he growled - he couldn't deny he found it irrefutably erotic how she cleaned the taste of herself off his lips. Clumsy hands fumbled at his shorts, stroking his burning length, urging him to bring it to her lips. Maybe another night - he thought. Right now he burned to bury himself inside her. He felt her tense in anticipation, her eyes cracked open and gleaming in the moonlight, slowly blinking up at him with a look so unguarded he could have wept. She guided him to her slick entrance and he slowly pushed inside, groaning as her hungry, supple flesh tempted him into her scorching depths and at last, he hilted inside her. He set a languid pace, cradling her hips in his hands, searching for the perfect angle to make her see the stars she missed so dearly behind her closed eyes. With her core hypersensitive in the glow of her climax, she clutched at him desperately, nails digging into the scales of his back with such force he thought for sure they would be discolored before long. He didn't care. Becoming one with her, seeing her completely blissed out by each roll of his hips and knowing he could make her feel this way made him shake with wanting. He covered her with his body, ravishing her lips against pleasured cries that came so resoundingly he was sure to hear "who was getting lucky last night?" in the morning. He belonged to her - this night and as many nights as she wanted him. She made him delirious in her pleasure. Her body demanded his release. Held within her wanting arms, he finally succumbed with a hoarse, drawn out cry. For seconds he was infinite, a whirlwind of white hot ecstasy fraying him apart until he found his sweetest end in her embrace. And then there was nothing but her and the caress of crisp, evening air wafting over him. A gift from the earth to bless their joining. He shivered with the aftershocks. Soft hands trailed down his back. He didn't know how long they remained before separating. In the afterglow, memories overtook him easily. Vivid remembrances of Irikah and Shepard tumbled together and he slipped in and out of them like the rolling of coastal waters. It was difficult to rationalize how he could deserve either of them, what he could have done to earn the love of the fierce and cosmic women who touched his heart. But as Shepard's breathing slowed from heavy to peaceful beside him,

his doubts were pushed aside. Arashu herself had sent him a divine protector, and he would not refuse her gifts. "You're the best," she murmured against him, and he could hear the daze of sleep trailing her gentle voice. Just a sigh of breath as she tucked her head against his chest and whispered:

"I love you." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Thanks for reading!

If you like creating shrios content, you're welcome to hop on board the challenge! My previous fills [AO3]:

Secrets in the Steam [Prompt: Wet]

Your Gods are My Gods [Prompt: Pray]

[baby-impalas]

everything ever | jacob barber

pairing: jacob barber x reader

word count: 2806

warnings: swearing, angst, pining, unedited, probably some spelling errors, drinking, mentions of drugs.

-

normally, jacob would be a smiley mess watching you dance. you’re so carefree and in the moment when dancing he thinks it might be one of the only true releases you have. however, watching you dance up against your boyfriend (who isn’t him), doesn’t exactly bode the same. 

it breaks his heart, in fact. 

derek (or ‘little bitch’ as jacob refers to him in his mind and around sarah) has his hands on your waist and his mouth pressed against your neck. you’re swooning completely for whatever he’s whispering in your ear, smiling and giggling like you couldn’t be happier. 

until you look over and see jacob watching you, breaking out into a smile he swears could power the city. you immediately turn to derek and say something, giving him your drink to hold before running over to him and practically jumping into his arms for a hug. 

“haven’t seen you in forever,” you say into his ear. the music is loud, but he could pick your voice out of any crowd. 

“since friday. yesterday,” he chuckles, setting you down and smiling at you. your eyes are bright and so full of spirit. fuck he has it bad. 

“yeah but it always seems like a long time when I'm away from you,” you say, knocking his shoulder playfully with your fist. 

you have no idea, he thinks. 

about an hour later you guys are sitting on a couch, your head leaned against his shoulder with your nose in your phone as jacob observes the party scene in front of him. it’s some kid he doesn’t really know that threw the party for the fourth of july. everyone’s drunk off their ass and a few people are really feeling the holiday, chanting ‘u.s.a.’ a couple rooms over. in the corner, jacob spot a girl he knows to be named aubrey. she’s dancing with mike greyson, possibly the dumbest college freshman jacob’s ever met. he doesn’t even know how the kid got in, to be quite honest. jacob doesn’t understand why aubrey, who’s quite smart, would waste her time on someone like mike. same as he doesn’t understand why you would wast your time with someone like derek. 

jacob knows he isn’t exactly a catch. he’s decently attractive, but he does have a bit of an anger problem. it’s something he’s gotten better at controlling over the years, and something he would never even think about taking out on anyone. he knows now better than when he was younger that it’s his problem, and he has to deal with it on his own. death seemed better than even thinking about taking his anger on you, and that’s where he and derek differed, it seemed. 

derek definitely didn’t hit you (no way in hell would you stand for that), he’s just raised his voice at you one too many unnecessary times. you talked to jacob about what he said to you and how it made you feel. 

how he called you an ‘uptight bitch’ for not wanting to get high before class. 

he’s right I should loosen up a little, you’d said. 

how he called you stupid for asking a simple question about some homework. 

I really should pay attention more, you’d said. 

fuck that. you shouldn’t have to make excuses for your shitty boyfriend being an asshole to you just because he thinks he can. if jacob’s ever been confident in one thing about himself, it’s that he should be the one holding you in his arms and whispering sweet things in your ear. 

he glances down at you, seeing that you were texting derek. 

shithead. 

you: i wanna go

derek : i’m having fun tho

you: I'm tired

derek: you can go

you: derekkk

derek: what?

you: please?

derek: are u always gonna be so nagging?

“hey,” jacob says, nudging his shoulder. you look up to him and set your phone in your lap. “i'm gettin’ kinda tired. you wanna go?” 

you basically snort. “yes please,” you say. 

jacob stands and takes your hand in his to help you stand as well. you’re a bit wobbly and hold onto him for balance. and even in the sweaty crowd all jacob can smell is your sweet vanilla perfume. 

once outside, you say, “I don’t even know why I came. I hate these parties.” 

“me too.” 

“then why’d you come?” you ask with a bubbly laugh. 

“cause you did,” jacob answers truthfully. you pause for a moment, nearly making him trip. “you okay?” 

you’re watching him carefully, the same way he watches people when they’re doing something particularly interesting. 

“yeah,” you say a little late. “I have to tell you something.” 

jacob’s heart hammers in his chest, and he swears his legs go a little numb. but he plays it cool, asking, “what’s up?” 

you don’t respond right away, instead brushing his tousled hair away from his eyes. he remembers a couple weeks after you guys had met, you’d said he had some of the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen. and shit if that wasn’t fuel for his fire. 

“you’re so pretty, jake,” you say, seemingly just remembering that you thought that about him. “and so smart. god you are so smart and you don’t even have to try.” 

jacob feels his cheeks heat up and thanks anyone listening that it’s dark outside so you can’t see. he opts to look at some trees over your shoulder, knowing that staring into your twinkling eyes will only make it worse. but you place a hand on his cheek and turn his head back to you. 

being so close he swears he might pass out. 

“you’re everything to me,” you say. “you’re just everything there every was. do you know that?” 

he tilts his head slightly to the right as his eyebrows knit together.

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” he smiles a little and you smile right back, immediately falling into a fit of giggles. 

“I'm trying to be serious,” you say with a pout and shit you look so cute. he’d let you break his heart over and over and over if you wanted to. 

“be serious, then.” 

you take a deep breath for dramatic and comedic effect. 

“I, uh...” you’re staring into his eyes with a sudden intensity that nearly knocks him off his feat. he can practically see the gears turning in your head, though one seems to stop and suddenly that intensity is gone and you’re looking at the ground. “I'm tired.” 

maybe his heart aches just a little. 

“let’s get you home, then.” 

you don’t lean on him anymore, seemingly so balanced you may as well be sober. 

the drive home is mainly silent. the radio plays everybody wants to rule the world at a low volume, and you rest your head against he window the whole time. you really weren’t lying about being tired. 

when you arrive at your house, jacob helps you inside because it’s very hard for you to walk half asleep and intoxicated. he helps you into bed, removing your shoes and covering you up. then, because he can’t help himself, he brushes your messy hair back from your eyes, and suddenly you’re staring up at him in a way that has him panicking. because you’re looking at him the way sally looked at harry. 

“jake,” you say, your voice thick with sleep. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow, yn.” 

what’s one more impulsive romantic gesture? he kisses you on the head. 

“jake,” you say again. “want you to kiss me.” he almost doesn’t hear it, you’re so quiet. 

“what?” he murmurs, his heart picking up in his chest as he looks down at you. he’s still bent over, so when you sit up you’re only inches away from each other. 

“I want you to kiss me again,” your hand comes up from under the covers and you rest your index finger on your bottom lip. “here.”  

fuck. your cheeks are lit with a blush and your sparkling y/e/c eyes are boreing into his. you smell so good and he’s sure you taste like everything wonderful in the world. 

“no,” but you’re not his girlfriend. “you’re drunk.” you’re derek’s girlfriend. 

“doesn’t matter,” you say, grabbing his shirt and not breaking eye contact. 

“matters a lot,” he says, wishing he had the will power to remove your hand and just leave. but he doesn’t. because it’s you. you’re his first love and right now you’re looking at him like he carries the universe, the way he’s always wanted you to look at him. 

“not if I think about it sober, too,” you say. 

oh. 

“well-” what the fuck does he say? you still have a boyfriend, he can’t kiss you. he can’t kiss you. he can’t kiss you. your lips are alluring and your gaze is honest in love. but he can’t kiss you. 

he can’t. 

“please,” you say. and shit now you’re begging. “jacob, I need you to kiss me right now or I may explode.” 

fuck. he doesn’t know what to do, so he does the only logical thing. he shuts off his emotions. ever since he was a kid, jacob’s been very in charge of his feelings. he’s not sure it’s a good thing, but it’s a thing that comes in handy in moments like this. 

“get some sleep, yn,” he says, finally standing up and pulling himself out of the spell you seemed to have him in. 

he knew you were pouting without even looking at you, for you’d made a big huffy sort of sound that he knows you do when something doesn’t go your way. you make a noise like you’re about to speak, but nothing comes out. jacob smiles down at you, and you lay back down, looking very tired again. 

he walks out, making sure to turn your night light on and lock your front door. he seems okay. anyone looking at him would think he’s completely fine. but in the safety of his car, the switch for his emotions seems to turn back on, and he feels his breathing pick up like he might cry. but jacob doesn’t cry. he hasn’t since ben rifken. so he just sits and feels the anger begin to spread. 

why the fuck didn’t he kiss you? because you have a boyfriend. but he hates the son of a bitch and if you like him so much why would you try and kiss jacob? what’s the point of being a good guy if you always get hurt in the end? isn’t there a point where his own happiness should come first? 

jacob hits his steering wheel, so conflicted with what the right answer is he feels his head practically swimming like he might be drunk. he’s not drunk. he’s sober and in pain. but who wouldn’t be? you’re y/n y/l/n. you're a four leafed clover and probably the reason the earth orbits the sun. anyone who wouldn’t move mountains for you is a fucking idiot. 

jacob drives home and doesn’t think about anything anymore. sometimes thinking hurts too much. 

-

you text him the next morning and ask if you can come over. he says sure and makes breakfast for you guys. eggs, bacon, toast, the whole nine yards. he’s assuming you don’t remember what happened last night, but he’s sure you felt like shit this morning. 

you arrive and greet him with a smile and a hug. your hair’s pulled up into a bun and you’re wearing the sweater he gave you last year after a late night in the city. it used to be his own, but it looks so much cuter on you. 

“hey,” you say. “did you make breakfast? smells good.” 

he nods, ushering you into the kitchen where he’d already prepared two plates. you give him a sweet, adoring smile like you can’t believe what he’d done. 

“you’re so sweet,” you say, jutting your bottom lip out. 

everything seems to stop for a moment when he looks at you. it hits him then just how head over ass he is for you and how he’d do just about anything to make sure that gorgeous smile stays on your face forever. 

he shrugs, sitting down next to you. “just doin’ what my dad taught me.” 

andy was always drilling into jacob’s head that if you want to get a nice girl under your arm, chivalry is the key. 

“ah, yes, I'm sure andy barber was quite the catch in his day. still kind of is, actually.” 

jacob’s jaw drops. “you’re hitting on my dad? my married dad?”

you laugh, nearly choking on orange juice. “not hitting on, just complimenting the barber genes. obviously good looks run in the family,” you say, nudging his shoulder. 

jacob turns away so you won’t see him blush. he’s surprised things aren’t awkward between you two after last night. seems you really don’t remember what happened. 

“okay, but the y/l/n genes are clearly one of god’s favorites.” 

“aww, you think I'm pretty?” you say, turning to him after taking a bite of bacon and batting your eyelashes at him. 

“you’re ethereal,” he says, almost to himself, as he looks at you. 

suddenly the energy in the room shifts, and you’re not looking at him so playfully anymore. he tries to think of something to shrug it off, but nothing comes to mind. all he can think about is how pretty you are. and how kind, and loving. 

“why didn’t you kiss me last night?” you ask. 

fucking what?

“what? are you serious? you were drunk.” and I'm an idiot. 

“well I stand by what I said.” 

it’s silent as you watch him, waiting for a reaction. anyone looking at you might think you’re confident as hell right now, but really you’re practically begging inside that jacob doesn’t kick you out for crossing a line. 

“well you have a boyfriend,” he says almost spitefully. 

then you’re pulling out your phone and clicking some buttons, and jacob’s scared for a moment you may be deleting his number or something. but instead, you put the phone on speaker and begin calling someone. jacob doesn’t see who it is, only barely recognizes the voice of the little bitch on the other end of the line. 

“sup, babe?” derek says though the phone. 

“hey. i think we need to break up.” you’re picking at a loose strand of fabric on your jeans, seemingly not phased at all by the fact that you’re breaking up with your boyfriend. almost bored, even. 

“what? you’re serious?” 

“yup.” 

holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit-

“how come?” 

then you lock eyes with jacob, and his heart skips a beat. 

“I'm in love with someone else.” 

derek starts to say something, but you hang up on him. jacob almost laughs at the cold gesture, but he can’t, because next thing he knows you’re pressing your lips against his and he can’t do anything except kiss back and think, this is happening. I'm kissing yn. and she tastes so sweet, like orange juice. 

his hands are slipping from your cheeks to your arms to your waist because he can finally touch you. he can fucking finally feel your soft skin under his fingertips, and your lips against his own. it feels right, like you fit together in a way that’s bigger than either of you.

you pull away and look at him, gauging his reaction. as far as jacob’s concerned, you’re the only one who’s ever really been able to read him. you know exactly how he’s feeling and how to react to it. it impresses him more than anything else because he considers himself extremely hard to read. 

right now, though, he’s not hard to read at all. his eyes are twinkling with adoration and there’s a blush on his cheeks that’s even spreading to his neck. he’s dopey and so in love he can’t contain it. 

“you’re everything there ever was,” he says, repeating your drunken words from last night. you giggle and just holy fuck he can’t believe you love him. you.

“jacob-”

“I love you,” he says, moving his hand to your thigh. “always have.” 

that has you blushing and avoiding his gaze, and you look so goddamn cute. 

“I love you too,” you say, trying your best to look him in the eye. “I never loved derek. I just didn’t think you’d want me like that, so I tried to move on... long story short it didn’t work.” 

he laughs, though he’s in major disbelief that he wasn’t obnoxiously obvious with his feelings for you. he’s good at controlling how he appears to people, but loving you was something he could never really contain. 

and now, thank fuck, he doesn’t have to anymore. because you’re all his. 

[war-of-the-words]

A December Night

A very merry Christmas and happy holidays to my @dcmkkaishinevents giftee, Clef! I sincerely hope this gift makes you smile! -Two

Kaito hated wearing heels. They weren’t any problem for him now, he could wear them for hours if he had to, but that doesn’t mean he enjoyed them. And when you’re disguised as an attractive young woman at a private auction for high-priced items, heels were practically mandatory. Plus, heels made his legs look fantastic.

He hadn’t sent an advance notice this time. He just wanted it to be a quick in and out kind of deal. The majority of this decision was because Nakamori finally got time off and he promised Aoko that he would spend the day holiday shopping together. Aoko had been so excited to hear it, and Kaito thought that they both deserved some father-daughter time.

Unfortunately, that meant that Kaito had to spend more time than he liked weaseling an invitation for his disguise from the organizers. It never ceased to amaze him how sleazy “high class” people could be. But he was there now, circling the buffet table like a shark and eating his fill of the pretentious mini desserts. 

“Excuse me?” a voice said from behind him. An incredibly familiar voice that made Kaito’s blood run cold.

“Hm?” he hummed, turning around and giving the intruder a warm smile. The face wasn’t one he wanted to see. Kudou Shinichi stood there, looking incredibly handsome in a fitted charcoal suit, a smile on his face. Kaito hated how he couldn’t help but notice the way one side of his lip always pulled a little higher than the other.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you babe.” What did he just say? 

“Um, I think you’ve-” Kudou tilted his head ever so slightly, a sharp look in his eyes. Kaito slid his gaze to where Kudou indicated and noticed one of the more sleazy organizers orbiting a little too close for comfort. It clicked, Kudou had seen a woman in potential danger and stepped in like a knight in shining armor. “-got the wrong idea about why we came here, dear. The jewelry is great and all, but you know I can’t resist a good dessert table!” Kudou laughed, it made Kaito’s heart do backflips. Why, of all the people that could materialize at a secret KID heist it had to be him.

“How did you think I knew to find you here?” Kaito was about to respond, but the organizer finally decided to make his move.

“Miss Yamagi!” He said, walking over from where he was not so subtly eavesdropping. “I didn’t know you knew Kudou Shinichi!” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, he thought he was catching Kaito in a lie here, whether for leverage to get Kaito alone or to make a fool of him like the rich often like to do.

“Of course I do.” Kaito said, pushing as much honey into his voice as possible. He ran a hand through his long blonde wig. Yamagi was an aspiring model after all, a good cover for being taller than average, and a wonderful opportunity to use one of his favorite wigs, but she was best for winning over unruly men. Kaito watched the way the organizer followed Kaito’s hand as he played with his hair, winding the soft locks around his finger. How easy this would be. “We’ve been seeing one another for a while now, but its a secret.” Kaito pushed out his bottom lip into an adorable pout.

“Her modeling career hasn’t taken off yet, and my darling refuses any help from my family. She’s determined to get there on her own terms; that’s why she insisted on getting her own invitation to this event instead of being my plus one.” Kudou said, moving closer to Kaito’s side and smoothly wrapping his arm around Kaito. Kaito didn’t want to think about how easy it was to lean into Kudou’s side. 

“Is- is that so?” The organizer looked like he was trying very hard to refrain from mentioning the PDA. “Well, be careful that the press here doesn’t see you.”

“We will,” Kudou said with a cold smile, letting the organizer know his intentions were known, “We’ll just be on our way, excuse us.” And with that Kudou guided Kaito out towards the balcony, which was devoid of people thanks to the chilly weather.

“Thank you,” Kaito said once they were out of earshot of the rest of the guests. He could’ve easel handled it himself, but it was nice to be given help.

“You’re welcome, although I have to admit I had ulterior motives.” Kudou shimmed off his suit jacket and wordlessly placed it around Kaito’s bare shoulders. Suddenly, Kaito was very thankful he had worn a strapless dress.

“Oh, and what might those be?” Kudou probably didn’t know he was KID, he hadn’t even sent a notice so there should be no reason to even suspect that KID would be here.

“I just wanted to know why such a beautiful girl would look so lost.” He gave Kaito another killer smile and Kaito could feel his face flush. This man is criminal. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Kaito averted his gaze out to the clear night sky. The moon wasn’t even half full but the winter night was bright.

“Hm, my hunches usually aren’t wrong.”

“Well, this one was.”

“If you say so.”

Kaito was about to say, ‘I do say so’, but something made him stop. He chanced a glance at Kudou; he was staring at the sky too. His face was soft in the moonlight, the usual tension eased. Kaito never got to see him like this, and he was usually the reason why. He found himself playing with his hair again, he found it soothing. He called Kudou the “Great Detective” for a reason.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” Kaito cringed out how quiet it came out, how obviously nervous.

“Cross my heart.” The words hung in the air for a while, Kaito desperately trying to regain control of the pounding of his heart. It was so loud he was sure that Kudou could hear it.

 “I guess I’ve just been overthinking a lot of things lately.” The words felt thick in his mouth, and they fought to stay in his throat. “I know everyone acts differently in front of others, but sometimes I feel like I’m an extreme case.” The irony that Kaito was saying this in a voice that was not his own was not lost on him. “My jobs requires me to be someone else, but all of those people are me in one way or another. So when I’m alone I guess I don’t really know who I am. Which one of those masks are actually my real face, you know?”

“Probably, not to the same extent as you, but yeah, I think I do. You would be amazed out how often.” Kudou let out a low chuckle. Kaito laughed too. It was sweet that Kudou was trying, but he highly doubted Kudou could understand this gnawing feeling Kaito had been trying to ignore for months.

He had been changing faces as KID for so long that when he was “himself” it started to feel like an act too. Especially in front of Aoko. The amount of times he wanted to tell Aoko about his plans for a heist, a trick he was developing for KID, were piling up. Not to mention all the times Aoko dragged him shopping but he found himself shopping for his different personas instead of his best friend. He’s caught her casting suspicious glances at him when he’s spent a little too long looking at clothes Aoko would never wear. But Yamagi would, although at this point that’s the same as saying that Kaito would. His appearance had become completely detached from who he actually was. Even as the faceless Kaitou KID he put on a mask.

“It’s harder when you have no one to lean on.” Kudou interrupted his thoughts. He was still facing forward, eyes to the sky, a soft smile on his lips. “But it’s hard to find someone to lean on when what you feel feels so earth-shattering. No one can carry the weight of the world but Atlas after all.” Kudou turned to look at him, still wearing a smile Kaito never had the privilege of seeing before. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of Kaito’s hair behind his ear, and Kaito shivered but not from the cold. Kudou let his hand linger on Kaito’s cheek, it’s warmth a stark contrast to the night chill. Kaito was sure now that Kudou could feel his racing pulse, and the sound of it nearly made Kaito miss the announcement that the auction was about to begin. It was a chance to escape, to slip away from this dreamlike moment and return to his reality.

“Kudou, I really appreciate what you did for me tonight, but I-”

“Of course, this is an auction after all. But what did you come here for?” Kaito contemplated it, it couldn't hurt to tell him, right? Kudou just thought he was an attractive young model-

He never told Kudou he was a model. He never had a chance, Kudou just said he was a model to the organizer. Did he just guess? He was a detective after all, and considering Yamagi’s height it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch… “A necklace,” Kaito said tentatively.

“I thought so,” Kudou was still so close to Kaito, he could feel the detective’s hot breath on his face as he breathed out a laugh. 

 “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but this is the first time we’re meeting, isn’t it?” Kaito tilted his head in the way that made most men swoon and gave Kudou a pretty little smile. If Kudou had suspicions he had to dissuade them as quickly as possible.

“Mmm, no. It isn’t.” Kudou’s lip pulled up into that smirk that made Kaito want to simultaneously flee and kiss him senseless. He reached into his pants pocket, and Kaito had to physically fight the urge to run as fast as possible. He did not need to make a scene. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Stupid crush, making him act all stupid. He should have just thanked Kudou as quickly as possible and ran. He hadn’t made any announcements on purpose. And why had Kudou said ‘I thought so?’.

His thoughts were cut short as he felt hands brush the side of his neck and a weight fall onto his chest. Startled, he opened his eyes and took a step back. “What?” Kaito stammered, confused. Glancing down, he saw his target, glimmering in the moonlight. “What?” Kaito said again, searching Kudou’s eyes for answers.

“It really suits you, KID.” And Kaito probably would have run if Kudou’s voice hadn’t been so damn gentle. “I knew it would suit you as soon as I saw it.”

“Okay Meitantei, you’re going to have to break this one down for me.” Kaito said, with his own voice this time. It didn’t seem to faze Kudou.

“I knew it was you as soon as I saw you walk in. Your presence fills the room, KID, even if you don’t mean it too.”

“I think you’re the only person with that problem, Meitantei.”

“I would never call that a problem, KID. But after I saw you, I was sure you were here for something from the auction.”

“But I didn’t send a notice, how did you know I wasn’t just here for fun?”

“And free dessert? Just call it a hunch. And the knowledge that Nakamori was very excited to have some time off to spend with his daughter.” Kaito let out a sigh.

“I hate how much you know about me.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Oh, cocky now, aren’t we? So, what’s the catch, you’ve got me collared,” Kaito gestured at the very expensive piece of jewelry around his neck, “are you going to turn me in?”

“What, I can’t just get you a Christmas present?”

“Seriously? Shinichi, I know what the starting price for this was going to be, and I don’t want to know how much you paid to buy it before it could even be put on sale. This isn’t something you just give to your favorite rival.”

“Hmm, I suppose it isn’t. But rivals also don’t call each other by their first names.”

“I, um, well-”

“Look, KID, I like you. A lot. I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame. I’ve come to terms with that now, and if the way you’ve reacted to me tonight was anything to go by, I might have a chance.”

“You haven’t been flirting with me all night because you think I’m a hot supermodel?”

“I’ve been flirting with you all night because you’re Kaitou KID. It’s just a bonus that I got to see you looking like a hot supermodel.”

“But that whole thing I said about-”

“I told you, KID, it’s so much easier to share it with someone, and I desperately want to be that someone. You’re not Atlas, and even if you were, I’d carry the world for you.”

“So you don’t care that I’m-”

“KID, you could fill in that blank with anything and my answer would be the same.”

“I’m the magician here,” Kaito laughed, “I’m supposed to be the one to leave you speechless.”

“I might know a way you could shut me up.” And there was that smirk again, but it no longer made him want to run. And so he kissed him senseless, underneath the bright December sky, where it felt like it was only the two of them in the entire world.

[levi-inthesun]

Loving Someone

This is for @stuckonjbbarnes​ writing challenge with the song Loving Someone by The 1975. 

Summary: In order to protect your heart, you made up the “only fuck once” rule, dictating that you could not sleep with the same person more than once. Then Carol Danvers comes back to the compound, to stay. Will this rule bite you in the ass?

Warnings: Swearing, references to smut, dirty talk?

Paring: Carol x Reader

A/N- I did not edit this.... so sorry

“What are you doing tonight?” Sam asked as you both slowed to an easy jog.

“Probably just gonna go the bar,” you reply easily.

Sam stops abruptly, “How long are you going to stay in denial?” There isn’t any malice or bite to his words, just genuine concern and it makes you feel uneasy. You make some non-committal noise instead of answering and finish jogging to the doors of the compound. 

You do your best to avoid Sam the rest of the day, which wasn’t too difficult until it’s time for you to leave for your favorite bat. Except Sam is standing by the door, dressed and ready to go. As you approach, Sam has that look in his eyes and you know you cannot convince him to stay home unless you stay home tonight. 

“You driving or are we getting an uber?” You ask, throwing your cropped leather jacket on. 

“I’ll drive,” Sam decides, grabbing a random set of keys and you both make your way to the garage.

The bar is only slightly packed, which is, in your humble opinion, optimal. You like to have room to breathe, more specifically though, room to dance with whatever woman consents. 

You skip over to the bar and order a rum and coke and chat with your favorite bartender and Sam watches from a booth he’s claimed. 

“You know, you are a lot less closed off here,” he casually says while throwing a peanut into his mouth. 

“Are you just going to therapize me the entire night?” You (semi) joke.

Sam shrugs and you take a long sip of your drink before moving towards the dancing people.

The night went on how every weekend-night goes. You get pleasantly buzzed/on the edge of drunk, dance with hot women, and eventually, go to either your place or their place where you will (hopefully) ravish each other. 

~

You wake up slowly, a faint pressure on your hip. You hear the woman behind you breathe deeply before stretching gently.

“Morning,” she says softly, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. “I’d love to stay for breakfast, er,” she looks at her phone. “Lunch but I’ve got a meeting later.” 

You nod and watch her hop around throwing her clothes back on. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom then I’ll be out of your hair,” she says, watching as you sit up and the sheet pools around your waist.

You raise an eyebrow in reply.

Once she’s left (with her phone number written on your mirror with the lipstick she was wearing last night), you throw on a pair of sweats and one of Sam’s shirts before making your way out to the kitchen.

“She was cute,” Sam says, throwing something in the microwave.

You hum in agreement and look through the fridge, eventually settling on an apple. 

“Oh, we’ve got a meeting at 3,” Sam informs you. “Captain Marvel is back in town and she has some stuff she needs to brief us on.”

“Captain Marvel is a woman, huh?” You ask Sam, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“You do know that not everyone is bisexual, right?” Sam teases. He grabs his bag of popcorn out of the microwave and starts to walk out of the kitchen before turning back. “Uh, maybe don’t have a one night stand with our teammate?”

~~

You are ready to crawl into a hole or have the earth open up and eat you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Carol greets you, a mischievous glint in her light brown eyes. 

“Oh, fuck me,” you whisper before composing yourself. “Hey, Carol,” you say, shaking her hand. 

“I already did,” Carol states, voice low, before switching gears to get the meeting started. 

The entire meeting is spent trying to listen to Carol talk about possible issues outside of the earth’s orbit, but really you just end up staring, flashes from last night taking over when she moves a certain way. The other part is spent sending death glares at Sam and Bucky who are having the time of their lives at your misery.

Carol excuses herself to take a call and you lean forward, finger-pointing at the men across from you.

“You knew!” You whisper scream, “You couldn’t have warned me? What the hell?” 

Sam grins, “I just… Listen, I was going to when I realized it was Carol, but then I remembered that it is 5 million times more fun watching you suffer.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side, “Wait, did you hook up with Carol?”

“Some spy you are,” you grumble as Carol walks back in, a slight frown on her face.

“Apparently I’m grounded for the next… well,” Carol pauses, taking a deep breath, “foreseeable future.”

Sam and Bucky high-five under the table, then volunteer you to show Carol around. 

~

After showing Carol around the compound you decided you needed to go out again tonight. During the tour, Carol was extremely flirty, which was welcomed- except for the fact that she was a teammate and not a one night stand. To avoid her, you spent the rest of the day hiding in your room and searching your closet for the perfect outfit to wear. You ended up in a crop top with high waisted, wide-legged pants, and after checking yourself in the mirror you walked out of your room with your head held high. Luckily no one was in the kitchen and you were able to leave the compound without anyone noticing, or so you thought.

The club was vibrating with energy as patrons drank too much and danced as much as they could. You downed a shot at the bar then headed into the crowd. At the heart of the masses, you threw your hands in the air and danced, not caring who with. Soon a pair of large hands gripped your hips. Turning your head to the side, you glanced up at the beautiful man before leaning your body into his. Time was non-existent as you danced with the man and you were positive the feeling of his hand on your waist was burned into your skin.  

“You want to get out of here,” he asked, lips at the shell of your ear and voice low. 

“I’d rather stay here and dance for a little while longer. That good with you?” You replied eyebrow raised.

Instead of saying anything, he rolled his eyes and walked away, attaching those large hands to some other woman.

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you headed back to the bar and ordered a beer. You sat down and took a long drag from the bottle before popping some peanuts into your mouth. A remix of your favorite song came on, causing you to down the rest of the bottle before heading back into the throng.

You moved your own body with the mix of bodies around you, circling your hips, running your fingers through your hair. You saw a familiar hand slip around your middle and in your alcohol-induced haze, you thought it would be a good idea to test fate.

Lips crashed together as you both got out of the taxi and headed towards the compound. 

“Wait,” you cautioned, “ Gotta make sure no one is up.”

“It’s 3 am, Y/N,” Carol countered, “Who is going to be up?”

You chuckled before heading into the common area, Carol trailing behind you. When you found everything dark and empty, Carol’s voice cut through the silence.

“FRIDAY, are any of our teammates up?”

“No,” FRIDAYS voice replied, volume lowered for how late early it was, “All Avengers except you and Y/N Y/L/N are asleep.”

A mischievous look took over Carol’s features as she stalked towards you, causing you to back into a couch, almost falling over the back of it.

Carol quickly caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing her lips to your neck with open-mouthed kisses, causing a low moan to escape you. She then traced her tongue from the pulse point below your jaw over to your mouth. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” Carol teased, voice low. “If you can do that, I’ll reward you by taking you to my room and fucking you so hard you can’t help but scream.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you nodded, crashing your lips against hers.

~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was that you were alone in Carol’s bed. You quickly looked around, finding her room empty.

“God damnit,” you muttered to yourself. “I was supposed to go to the club and find  someone else to sleep with.” 

Your muttering continued as climbed out of her bed to find your clothes scattered throughout her quarters.

You didn’t notice right away when Carol walked back in, giving her the opportunity to admire your half-dressed form. 

You were about to put your bra on when you noticed her, leaning up against her desk with two mugs of coffee in hand. Her lips turned up in a smirk as she saw what she thought looked a lot like relief flood over you. 

Standing there, bra hanging around your middle, still staring at the gorgeous woman you’ve slept with twice now, you were overwhelmed with confusion. You quickly shook your head and fixed your bra and Carol pushed off the desk towards you.

“Thought you might want some coffee,” she said, handing it over.

“After last night I’ll probably need a pint,” you whispered, taking a sip.

“What was that?” Carol asked eyebrow raised. 

You coughed and looked up at her before clearing your throat. “Uh, I just said I’d probably need a pint after last night.”

Carol smiled, “And why is that?”

“Seriously, Carol? Do you need to hear me say it?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. “Say it.”

You set the coffee down on the nearest flat surface before stepping closer to her. “I need a goddamn pint of coffee because you fucked me into almost every surface of your room until I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.”

“And I’ll do it anytime you’d like,” she told you, voice husky.

You quickly cleared your throat, then located your shirt and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t count on it,” you did your best to keep your voice even. “I rarely sleep with the same person more than once.”

~

You spent the following weeks avoiding Carol unless absolutely necessary, which included going to a different bar and staying more sober than you normally would, just to make sure you didn’t accidentally end up back in her arms bed. 

“You’ve been drinking less,” Bucky stated with a questioning look on his face.

“And what’s that to ya, bionicle boy?” you responded, taking another bite of leftover pasta.

Bucky shrugged, “ Just curious. I-”

“Not just curious,” Sam interrupted, walking out from around the corner. “There are very few things that can get you to drink less. So what is it?”

You huffed and was about to deny them when Carol walked in, sweaty from the gym. She greeted you and you smiled in response, then did your best to not watch the bead of sweat trail down her neck. 

You sighed inwardly when she walked out of the kitchen.

Sam and Bucky shared a look before narrowing in on you. 

“You just sighed,” Bucky accused, “What happened between you and Carol?”

“I bet I know,” Sam said. “I bet you slept with Carol a second time, breaking your only fuck once rule.”

You tried to interrupt Sam, but he wouldn’t let you.

“BUT! Not only that, you have a crush on her,” he finished. 

“I do not!” You exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed. 

“Your voice just went up an octave,” Bucky observed, “Which means you are lying.”

“What do you have to say about that?” Sam questioned.

You could feel your face heat up and you jumped off the counter. “I’d say,” you turn to them, legitimately annoyed now, “That it’s none of your business.”

Instead of stomping off to your room, you walked out the front door and headed in whatever direction your feet took you, ending up at a park. Taking a deep breath you sat down on a nearby bench and let your head fall back so you were looking up at the sky. You stayed like that for a while, just watching the soft clouds roll by, mind empty. 

At least, it was empty until you looked up and saw two women holding hands, watching their kid go down the slide. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. 

You thought about what Bucky and Sam had accused you of, and you knew they were right. You had a big ole’ fat crush on Carol Danvers, fucking Captain Marvel, the woman who played your body better than anyone ever had. That’s when memories flooded your mind.

Memories about people from your past who you had cared deeply for, and who all betrayed your heart. The last one was just after you dropped out of college, right before the Avengers recruited you. After her, you swore you’d never care for anyone in that way ever again. It was just easier that way. Except, when you looked back up at the couple, you felt a heavy loneliness come over you filled with a special kind of pain.  

You looked away and your eyes caught on a woman who looked too much like Carol. You rolled your eyes before scrubbing your hands over your face. 

“Y/N?” Carol’s voice called out, causing you to tear your eyes from a spot on the sidewalk, surprise etched into your features. “I was looking for you when Sam told me you walked off, upset. He said you’d probably be here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. 

Carol took that as an invitation to sit down next to you, allowing some space between. 

“I was looking for you because I am fed up with you avoiding me,” She stated. “I’ve been tired of it for about a while now, actually.” 

You let your eyes slide over to the woman next to you, eyeing her carefully. 

“Another reason I came looking for you is because I was worried about you,” she said softly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you said far too quickly. 

“Obviously,” Carol chuckled. 

You were both quiet for a few beats too long when Carol spoke up again.

“It would be easy for me to be upset with how you’ve been treating me without acknowledging something probably happened to cause you to react like this,” she said, “So, I’ll just say this once and leave the ball in your court.” She turned her body towards yours and your body turned all on its own to face her. “It sucks that someone, or multiple someones, hurt you so badly in your past that you’ve decided to make your ‘only fuck once’ rule, all to avoid developing any sort of connection or feelings for anybody ever again. It seems like your rule to avoid connection is hurting you more than you thought it would, so I know there’s hope,” Carol stood up abruptly to stand in front of you. 

“You should be loving someone,” she finally said. “Just, fucking let yourself love someone.” 

You sat there staring at her, heart beating out of your chest because you knew she was right. You stayed silent because you were scared of how much you have already started falling for her, and you were searching for the right thing to say. 

Carol hung her head in defeat before turning to walk back down the path she came, pausing like she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind and began walking away from you. 

~

“Carol?!” You called as you walked into the common room, “Carol! Where are you?” 

“Can you stop yelling,” a gruff voice pleaded from the couch. “She’s not here.” 

“Do you know where she is?” you asked, “Buck, I need to find her.”

“I think she went to a bar,” Bucky said with a sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to continue napping. 

“Thanks!” You said, running towards your room to change your clothes. 

~

You had gotten FRIDAY to disclose which bar Carol was at, and sped through New York traffic on your bike, getting there in record time. 

As you walked in, your eyes scanned the room looking for her. You walked over to the bar to ask the bartender if they’d seen her, and they pointed to the far side of the room. You looked her over, noticing how she was leaning up against the wall, talking to some gorgeous woman. It reminded you of the last time you slept together, how sexy she looked leaning up against her desk. 

The song changed to Loving Someone by the 1975, bringing you back into the present. You watched her for a moment longer, gathering your courage when she looked past the woman in front of her and locked eyes with you. A smile tugged at her lips giving you the courage you needed to close the distance. You saw her say something to the woman who waved her off before she met you halfway. 

You both stopped in the middle of the bar and she looked to you expectantly.

“You were right,” you admitted. “I made that stupid rule to try to protect my heart and I think I honestly caused it to break too many times.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

You let out a sigh, “Aaaand I like you and that scares me,” you admitted.

Carol smiled, “Well, then can I buy you a drink?” 

You shook your head, pulling the keys out of your pocket, “I’m good. You wanna go for a ride?” 

Carol’s smile stretched further over her lips and she nodded, so you took her hand and walked out of the bar.

[shereadsandwritesformelanin]

What I Need

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Black!Fem reader

Summary: Wanda and y/n hide their relationship until y/n can’t take it anymore, they break up. Wanda doesn’t realize just how much she’s lost until y/n is hurt on a mission.🌈

Warning: angst but overall fluff!

FIRST OF ALL HAPPY PRIDE MONTH BITCHES🌈 I LOVE MY LGBTQ + community BBBY’s ‼️

🏳️‍🌈BE LOUD AND PROUD DONT LET ANYONE SHUT YOU DOWN! LOVE WHO YOU FUCKING LOVE! 🏳️‍🌈

A/N: Making this because I know a little to well what it’s like being with someone who’s closested and every time your around family and friends your just a “good friend.” I hope you guys enjoy!

*THE READERS POWERS ARE OF AANG OR KORA THE AVATARS*

SEND REQUEST‼️ → Masterlist

-

“Morning baby.” You whisper rolling over wrapping your arms around Wanda pulling her close.

You take in the scent of her skin and hair. She always smelt like aged vinalla, the scent brought you home.

She turns her head facing you planting a light kiss on your lips. “Goodmorning.”

She untangled herself from your arms, propping up on the bed slipping into her house shoes and sweatshirt. “I should get going, before anyone wakes up.” Wanda explains.

You scoff, sitting up resting against the headboard.

Everynight and every morning it was the very same routine.

She came in around 12 a.m, you’d talk for a bit, make love for a while, then you’d cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Then as soon as the sun peaked through the bottom of your curtains she left. And it was back to being just “friends.”

You loved Wanda but you hated being hid. You never been one to care about what others thought of you, but Wanda she was already afraid of who she was and she was sure others were too. She didn’t want any other reason for them to be distant toward her.

“You know what Wanda.’ You pause drawing in a breath collecting your thoughts. “You always do this every morning, come and go like I’m a fucking motel pit stop for you to get off and keep warm!” You shout

“Well I’m done being that! If you can’t be with me beyond these doors well than I don’t want you!” You shout tears streaming down your face.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but she couldn’t. You were right, she had kept you in he dark. Not because she didnt love you but because she loved you, because she was scared of what others would think of her. If they’d shame her anymore.

The team had accepted you for who you were through and through, but they loved you and always have. Unlike Wanda she hasn’t felt that love yet.

Tears swelling in her eyes Wanda quickly slips out of the room rushing to her own before breaking down.

You slumped in your bed in disbelief. You’d been feeling this way for a while now and it was only right you let it out for yourself.

Hopefully one day Wanda would come around..

-

It had been two weeks since you two had ended things,and you barely spoke.

The team even started to notice the shift, especially Natasha.

“Hey what’s up with you and Wanda?” She asks placing her hand on your shoulders.

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned pretending you had no clue what she was on about.

Nat gives you a look, the look read “you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Out of the whole team Nat was who you trusted the most. She was your older sister, and you knew anything you said she’d take to the grave.

Taking a deep breath you prepare your thought. “We had been seeing each other for a while, nothing serious I guess.” You admit.

Natasha nods listening to you admit what you’ve been hiding for so long.

“Well for what it’s worth I thought you two were adorable.” Nat annouces slipping away to go train.

Your brows immediately perk up, mouth agape. I guess you truly couldn’t keep anything hidden from a spy like Natasha.

-

The mission was going smoothly. It was an all girls mission, so you, Nat, Wanda, Nebula, and Pepper were alone and out on the field.

“Hi right y/n.” Pepper shouts hovering above you in her silver and purple rescue suit

Immediately you force tons of bricks upward knocking out the enemies seemingly sending them into orbit.

Wanda watched you fight as she continued in her own battles, her moves so dance like. Truthfully she always loved the way you fought, so effortlessly but yet so powerful as you congured up all the earths natural elements to battle off the bad guys that swarmed you.

She watched wipe out enemies with the swip of your feet flames exploding from them, fist and hands shooting water and wind left and right, earth shifting from your fingertips.

Wanda was very much in love. She could never admit because she felt it was wrong, but it was so right. Or maybe she didn’t feel it was wrong, maybe it was too right and she was scared of ruining a good thing.

“Y/n your six!” Natasha yells.

You whip your head in the direction you heard Natasha warn you about. It was too late, you were blown back by a blast that was sprung from one of the aliens guns. Your head hit a rock, you felt a warm feeling through your entire body.

Blood.

Then everything went black.

-

“Y/n!” Wanda shouts running toward your still body

She slides on her knees next to you projecting away any other threats, building a force field around you.

“Y/n, baby stay with me please.’ Wanda shutters. It was hard for her to focus her mind on the force field and hopelessly healing your wounds.

“I need help I’m getting swamped and y/n is hit. Help us!” Wanda pleads shouting through the coms.

“We got it. Back ups on its way Wanda, hold on!” Pepper shouts informing

Wanda rocks you back and fourth moving her hands methodically around the wound on your torso and head, her energy seemingly closing your scars slowly. “Shh, stay with me baby. Stay with me.” Wanda cooes.

“Wanda the quinjet is here, they’re gonna take y/n.” Natasha informs through coms.

Wanda immediately releases her force field. Making you levatate running behind your floating body still on alert, She just wants to get you home safe.

Your loaded onto the ship and the team immediately gets to work.

“What happened?” Tony asks pulling out medical supplies passing it along to banner and Dr.Cho

“I’m not sure there- there was this alien and the machine, it shot her. Is she going to be okay?” Wanda stammers pacing hands running through her messy battle hair.

“We are gonna do what we can, we can’t let the avatar down. Not the last of em.” Dr. Cho reassures

“Shit!” Wanda shouts slamming onto the floor shooting psonic energy from all angles of her body.

“Hey we don’t have time for a breakdown right now.’ Tony states. He walks over to Wanda examining her body language.

He wasn’t the best at relationships but one thing was clear. Wanda was indeed in love with you.

“How long.” Tony questions sitting down next to Wanda.

“What?” Wanda exhausts

“How long have you been in love with Y/n?” 

Wanda releases and low bellied chuckle. “Long enough.” 

The reality of it was, Wanda hadn't known how long she’d been In love with you. She knew being with you made her happy, more than happy, one day it just hit her. She was indeed in love with her.

Please get better.

-

You attempt to open your heavy eyes, shifting in the uncomfortable recovery bed.

Wincing, you reach up to touch your fresh wounds. 

Wanda sits next to your bedside her head resting between her palms, as she seemingly prayed for a healthy recovery and forgivingness from her end.

“Wanda?” You whimper shifting slowly to face her.

It was blurry to see but you’d recognize those big green eyes anywhere.

“Y/n!” Wanda gasps wrapping her hands into yours reaching over your stiff body to press a button. 

“What- what are you doing here?” You question holding your forehead in pain. 

“I’m here for you, I'm always here for you.” Wanda states kissing the back of your palms running her other hand on your matted curls.

You shoot her a small soft smile, signaling to allow be bygones to be bygones, for the moment.

Wanda couldn’t help but feel the tension between you two. Obviously you wer happy to see her and she was beyond ecstatic to see you up and alive, but the tension was unsettling.

“Hey look who’s up!” Tony elated slipping checking your vitals and dressings.

“Your looking better than we thought.” He admits

“Perks of being the avatar.” You state sarcastically

You felt Wanda squeeze your hand she often did this when she wanted attention.

Your eyes shoot in her direction giving her access to speak to you.

“Can we talk.’ Wanda whispers eyeing between the two of you and tony. “Once he leaves.”

Tony gets the que to exit leaving me and Wanda alone.

Silence fills the room until Wanda finally speaks up.

Wanda grips your hand even tighter, curling a strand of your curls behind your ear again. It was like a nervous tick of hers when she spoke with you.

“Y/n.’ Wanda speaks drawing in a heavy breath. “When I saw you there, laying there fighting for your life I-I was freaking out doing everything I could to rescue you.”

You saw the tears swelling in your eyes while You were already releasing tears of your own. “Wanda—.” You croke

“Please let me finish.” She interrupts softly

“When I saw you laying there. It made me realize how much I truly do love you and need, and want you.” She confessed now full on crying.

“I love you so much y/n and I don’t give a damn who knows it anymore, I’m beyond that I just need you.” Wanda cries

You sat perplexed by her sudden change of heart. You couldn’t pretend this didn’t make your heart swell from her finally admitting her feelings because it did. You knew what you needed to do.

“Okay.’ You speak gripping her face pulling it into yours.

Your swollen lips meet her delicate soft ones. You two begin to move in a memorized sync battleing do dominance.

The kiss was a beautiful mixture of tears and passion.

Jesus Christ Wanda Maximoff what are you doing to me.

Breaking the fiery kiss “I love you.” You whisper forehead rested against hers.

Wanda cracks a bold smile teeth shinning through. “Wanna make some s’mores.” She suggested pulling out the ingredients from her bag.

A smirk slides onto your face, fingertips illuminating with fire.

“You know me to well.”

-

A/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this!! If you have any requests from those listen in my Masterlist please send them!!

Also as I continue with my series TBAHA I will be writing short pieces like that to keep my blog going because it’s not only about cevans 😅😏

Thank you guys for the support and be sure to reblog and “❤️” this one if you care!

BE LOUD, BE PROUD, STAY COOL.🏳️‍🌈✊🏾💖💜💙

[clumsyclifford]

just short of a fairytale

so myownway on ao3 gave me a prompt of, essentially, jack having a nightmare and alex comforting him. and i was like i don’t know if i can write this. so then i wrote it because we know what i’m like so anyway!!! this is that. it’s some good old fashioned mild angst/comfort situation but i promise you a happy ending because, again, we know what i’m like

title from nightmares by all time low. because duh

read it here on ao3

-

It's too loud in here.

By here, Jack means his head, and by loud, he means this…this angry static, this crackling not-silence that won't let up. It's been at him all day and it's starting to wear him out. He wants to be here, watching Tiger King with Alex, honestly he does, but he's so tired.

When the first episode ends, Jack reluctantly says, "I'm gonna turn in, actually."

"Really?" Alex frowns. "It's only ten."

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

"You okay?" Alex asks, because Alex always asks, either out of some sense of obligation or just because he can always tell when Jack isn't.

"Yeah," Jack lies, pretending like it's the truth because maybe that will make it so. "Honestly just tired. I feel like today was long."

"It was," Alex allows. He squeezes Jack's hand as Jack stands up. "Okay, well, I'm gonna probably put on Project Runway then, and I'll come to bed in a little bit."

Because Jack doesn't like Alex's dumb reality show obsession, and of fucking course Alex is considerate enough both to not force Jack to watch them and to not get ahead on Tiger King without him. Fuck. Jack loves him. 

"Okay," he says tiredly. "I love you. Goodnight."

"'Night, love you. Sleep well."

Jack trails into the bedroom and barely manages to free himself of his jeans and t-shirt, brush his teeth, and crawl into bed before sleep pulls at him. Thank God, he thinks as he goes under. Fucking finally.

When he jolts awake, his heart is racing.

"Alex?" he manages, before he's even really conscious. His body is still trying to catch up, but his mind is going a mile a minute; something bad is happening, or has happened, and Jack needs Alex, or at least needs to see his face, needs proof that he's here, needs proof that Jack is imagining things like he so often does. "Alex," he repeats, louder this time, desperation dripping from his voice. "Alex?"

Seconds later, Alex appears in the doorway. "Hey, what's up?" There must be something in Jack's face — some haunted look, something — that has Alex at his side immediately, clambering into bed and wrapping his arms around Jack. "Nightmare?"

Jack nods, and Alex pulls him closer, tighter. "Well, I can promise you it wasn't real," he says delicately, kissing the back of Jack's neck and pressing his face into Jack's skin, as if he's the one seeking comfort, when he's not.

It's Jack who needs it. Jack who needs Alex. It's so fucking stupid to need him for this, but he does anyway. "I know," Jack says in a shaky exhale. "I know, I know, thank you for coming anyway."

"Yeah, of course. I'm here for you. I'm here. Always here, babe."

"Yeah." Jack swallows. He closes his eyes, trying to soak in the comfort of Alex, but the darkness behind his eyelids brings back faint impressions of what had been one of Jack's worst nightmares yet. At this point he should know better than to fall asleep with static in his brain; it inevitably resolves into demons, shadows, monsters, the shit that lurks in the back of his mind, the shit he's worked so hard to lock up forever. He shouldn't have to deal with this anymore. Nightmares are for children, and needing to be reassured after having one is even more juvenile.

But. Fuck. He still craves it, and Alex always gives it willingly, and if Jack's going to be plagued by nightmares he might as well get something out of it.

“Feel like talking it out?” Alex murmurs. His back is flush against Alex’s front and Alex’s fingers skid over Jack’s shirt, above his stomach, gentle and methodical. Warmth, as always, traps itself between them, heating Jack’s skin.

Jack sighs. Normally he says no, but Alex always checks. Jack used to wonder why. 

Tonight, though…maybe he does. Or at least he’d like to fill the the empty silence, which is starting to feel louder than his head. There are too many things in there, but maybe getting them out of his brain will fill the quiet with something other than a vacuum.

“It wasn’t even —” He shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t want to talk about the dream, but I just…”

Alex is patient, a trait he rarely displays. It’s infinitely more compelling to have Alex waiting on him when he knows Alex will always choose to race ahead and finish first. Jack takes a breath. 

"It’s like," Jack mumbles, "I used to be scared by them. Like they were scary. But like, in a scary way. Obviously. I mean, fuck.” Pause. Swallow. Jack collects himself. “Like I'd cry, and all. I'd always call for my mom. She was so annoyed because sometimes I would wake up at like three in the morning and I'd have to go into my parents' room and wake my mom up." Alex shifts slightly, and Jack sinks further into his chest as some of the tension seeps out of his body. "Then I think it stopped for a little while in school, but now it's like…" He tries to pull together the scattered fragments of this thought, because he's gotten this far into it, and he wants to reach the end of it, to say it. If only to put it out there and see what Alex thinks. 

Breathing deep, he tries again. "Okay. When I was younger, it was scary shit, but I always knew it wasn't real. 'Cause I didn't really know how the world worked. So I didn't know what stuff was actually gonna be scary, and my brain would just make it up. I'd get nightmares, but even while I was in the middle of one I would know that it was a nightmare. But now…I know all this bad shit about the world. Bad shit has happened to me and to people I care about. And now they're so much worse, because I can't wake up and promise myself that that would never happen in real life. Nobody can promise me that. It might happen. Some of them have happened, just not to me. But any day now, I don't know." He inhales, exhales, squeezes his eyes shut tighter. "I'm so scared now that something I've dreamt about will actually happen and then I will have literally nothing I can say. Like it's my last line of defense to say it could never happen, but if it does, then I'm fucked, you know? Not that I'm not already fucked, but I'm more fucked."

And with that he turns over, burying his face in Alex's chest because the room feels too big all of a sudden, and Alex is safety and comfort and home. Alex won't let him go. He never has.

There’s a lull. Then Alex, quietly, says, “I get that.” 

Jack could cry. In this state maybe he will. He's never sure if he's making sense or talking shit, especially now, and Alex saying that he understands means the world to Jack, because sometimes Jack feels like an eight-year-old gazing in awe at his musical idol Alex Gaskarth and he wonders why Alex would ever choose Jack, would choose to love him over anyone else. It's not like their relationship is lopsided — there are things Jack can do and give that Alex struggles with — but it doesn't stop Jack feeling, sometimes, like he's not enough, like all of him and all he has to offer could never be good enough for the likes of Alex.

"It makes sense," Alex continues. Jack pulls himself back into the real world. "I wish there was something I could do. Or something I could say. I know it's not helpful to be like nightmares aren't real and you're gonna be fine. Even if that's true."

Jack swallows. "Yeah. Exactly." He curls his fingers into the cotton of Alex's shirt. "But let me ask you this: are you going to leave me?"

Alex makes a noise of distress. "What? Never."

Jack breathes out slowly. "Okay then," he whispers. "I can handle the rest as long as you’re around.”

Alex scratches lightly at Jack's scalp, sending a tingling warmth down to his neck and shoulders. "I promise to never leave you," he vows. "I can't think of anything at all that would ever compel me to." 

"I didn't say never."

"Well, I did," Alex says fiercely. "Never, I'll never ever leave you, I love you way too much to leave. That would be like — like the Moon leaving the Earth's orbit."

The warmth in Jack's shoulders diffuses itself now to the rest of his body, through each limb, out to his fingertips where they rest on Alex's shirt. "You're saying you're in my orbit?"

"Of course I am," Alex says, voice soft over Jack's head. "But I love it, Jack. I've got the best seat in the house to watch you be you. Being the Moon rules."

Jack feels a laugh building up in his chest, coupled with the less oppressive heat of what he's pretty sure is love — it's what he always feels around Alex, but sometimes it's stronger, and now it's like someone's cranked the burner high and hasn't covered the flame. "I'm definitely in your orbit, not the other way around," he says. 

"Nope."

"I so am."

"You're talking to a solar system expert here. I think I would know."

The laugh escapes, hot in Jack's face as it bounces off Alex's chest. After a moment of self-assessment, Jack realizes his heartbeat is back to normal, and he kicks his feet against the mattress to push himself up the bed until he can meet Alex's eyes, until their noses are almost touching.

"Thanks," he murmurs. Alex presses a kiss to his forehead.

"Anytime, my love. Always."

"What time is it?" In the commotion, he'd forgotten to look at the clock. 

"Midnight, almost," Alex says, and, as if on cue, he yawns. "I was just about to come to bed anyway, so you couldn't have timed this better."

"Oh, no problem," Jack says wryly. "Glad it worked out."

Alex laughs. "Are you okay if I go get ready for bed? Six minutes?"

Jack nods. "I'm okay now," he says, sincerely. He's fine now, and the static brain from earlier is gone, and even with Alex smiling and laughing and rustling the bed sheets, Jack realizes with a start that it's quiet.

It's quiet, and Jack settles back against the pillows as he watches Alex get dressed to sleep. There's still noise, but it's not that kind of quiet. This quiet is more like peace. Jack could live in it forever, and (never, I'll never ever leave you) he just might.

[lazywriter7]

Five Bells

Written for @lightsonparkave prompt one and two. Cheers to the delightful @firebrands for all her words of encouragement.

Summary:  

After returning the Stones, Steve takes a detour through time.

First few lines of dialogue taken from Avengers: Endgame. All other lines in italics, as well as the title, are taken from Kenneth Slessor’s Five Bells.

________________________________

“How long is this gonna take?”

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.”

  Time that is moved by little fidget wheels Is not my time

the flood that does not flow.

 I have lived many lives, and this one life

  “You know which bagel,” Steve says – mostly distracted. Cross-legged, notepad on thigh, he is drafting new training plans for the team; Pietro is proving to be a unique challenge.

“I do?” Tony queries, standing above his shoulder. The couch is low and he towers over Steve. “I don’t remember that being covered by the history books… unless I’d fallen asleep, of course.”

Steve freezes. No, no, he stills. The setting sun angles over Tony’s cheekbone, a deep, burnt red.

Steve lowers his gaze, his skin shivering with the afternoon chill. “Sesame seed, please.”

  Why do I think of you, dead man

 You have gone from earth,

Gone even from the meaning of a name;

  It is in the little things. Natasha’s surprised blink when Steve brings her a peanut butter sandwich, the hollow silence when he curses on the comms and no one chimes the L-word back at him.

It is nothing. It should pale before the face of the big things, the earth-shattering, the miraculous – the reality of getting to hear their voices, see their faces, unblemished, every day.

Even Christmas. Clint snags a thumbnail under the wrapping paper and peels it open from the middle; lifts the box set of Jurassic Park colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.”

It’s for Cooper, Steve thinks; it’s dumb, I couldn’t help myself, you haven’t told us and I’m so sorry–

“Did you not have presents in your time?” Tony asks, part snark and mostly befuddled, the multicoloured gleam of fairy lights dappled in his hair.

I didn’t have you in my time – and. And. It is in the little things.

  Yet something's there, yet something forms its lips

And hits and cries against the ports of space,

Beating their sides to make its fury heard.

  “They’re shiny. Silver.” Tony says, bruised eyes, dim with a kind of terror Steve has lived through first-hand. “These big, heaving whales in the air… and everything else is dark. All of you are dead.”

It’s been twenty-three days since Steve told him about December 16, 1991. New traumas evoking older nightmares.

“And I’m alone.”

It wasn’t real, Steve should say. That is the correct response to a nightmare.

It was real, in another, deliberately forgotten lifetime. Five years, and they weren’t even the worst of it.

“We can prepare,” Steve fists his hands by his sides, so as to not reach for Tony’s trembling ones on the kitchen countertop. Everything around them is night and still, but for the flickering of the bulb overhead. “We’ll be ready for them when they’re here.”

It’s like a face shifting from the shade into the light; the gratitude moving over Tony’s features.

The kettle whistles, Tony pads over to the stove – and for an instant, it’s as if a cloud passes and Steve is convinced this is a BARF memory. There by the corner, the real Tony stands with shoulders curled in – gaunt, emaciated, mouthing words.

Liar. Thief. Liar, liar.

  Are you shouting at me, dead man, squeezing your face

In agonies of speech on speechless panes?

Cry louder, beat the windows, bawl your name!

  Tony, Steve breathes – and Tony catches it on his lips.

This has never happened before. Steve has no memories to compare it with, and catalogues every detail to add to a rolodex of sensations, for safekeeping; Tony’s eyelashes fluttering against Steve’s skin, the way the callus on his thumb digs into Steve’s chin when he’s holding it steady, the soft skin in the crevices between his fingers as their hands wound tighter together, the happiness of an impossible moment.

Tony pulls back, smiles softly.

Steve closes his own eyes, brushes his mouth over the corner of Tony’s, where the wrinkles begin – the place missing just a few extra lines.

  But I hear nothing, nothing...only bells,

Five bells, the bumpkin calculus of Time

Your echoes die, your voice is dowsed by Life

  “I have… Arlington.” Steve awkwardly presses himself against the wall of the overfull coffeeshop, paper cup oozing warmth through to his palms. Sometimes, if he lets himself forget, the crowds piling through the street and bustling indoors can still stun him. “There’s a memorial there, I mean. But if I could pick, after I eventually… Brooklyn, probably. In the Barnes family plot, if they allow it.”

“What,” Steve asks – turned morbid by the laughter and press of people around him. Fifty percent. It never happened here. “What about you?”

Natasha looks at him, brow crooking high enough to reach her hairline. Steve used to think that blistering colour came from hair dye, but he knows better now.

“Where I’d want to be buried?” She summarises bluntly. It’s like a wound getting cauterised – relief and pain making everything insensate.

The answer is a farm that isn’t supposed to exist, in the middle of nowhere. “Minsk,” Natasha says instead, and it doesn’t sound like a lie he’s heard before.

  Nothing except the memory of some bones

Long shoved away, and sucked away, in mud;

And unimportant things you might have done,

Or once I thought you did; but you forgot,

And all have now forgotten

   “Happy Sputnik Day!” Tony choruses, Thor’s deep base rumbling alongside his. Bruce is in the attached kitchenette, peering at jar labels in the shelf; Clint and Natasha playing Borderlands on the couch.

Steve comes further in from the doorway, gaze flitting incorrigibly from person to person. “What?”

“You know, Sputnik. The day all of humanity became a little cooler, and the Russians successfully launched the first satellite into orbit, driving the Americans insane.” Tony springs to his feet, wide grin approaching for a morning kiss. “October fourth.”

He barely catches Steve, fingers clamped about the arms, just as Steve pitches into the floor.

One year, one year one yearoneyearone –

Past, present, future swirls together in his serum-perfect brain, gibbering over two words, a fact so carefully forgotten; his breaths grow shallower and shallower, pain shooting through his chest with every hitch, black-spots-inverse-stars shimmering in his vision–

“You’re dead.” Steve rasps out, Tony’s face shuttering in confusion. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it. “You’re dead.”

  Where have you gone? The tide is over you,

The turn of midnight water's over you,

As Time is over you, and mystery,

And memory, the flood that does not flow.

  He’s curled on the couch, apostrophe-like; dry-mouthed but breathing slower against Tony’s denim-covered thigh. Tony drags blunt nails over his scalp, quietly humming under his own breath.

I’ve watched you, Steve thinks hazily – watched you raise a child, watched you be blissfully married, watched you speak to Howard, father to father, and dole out more understanding than he deserved, and let me walk you away from your pristine life and give me more trust than I had ever earned. I watched the silver grow from the temples of your head to the longer hair-strands, to the scrub of your goatee, up to the fleck of your brows. And the longer I keep watching you now, the more I know I’m watching someone else.

“Was so sure,” He can hear his voice reverberate off the floor, more of a croak than anything– “tha’ I wasn’ gonna leave you this time.”

Tony regards him, hum falling silent. There’s a dam there, in those eyes, holding back a wave of slowly stirring anger and injury that Steve fully intends to weather – but is leashed now, for some reason.

This Tony doesn’t have grey in his beard yet, but even as his lips move and Steve braces himself, he says–

“I’ll forgive you.”

  The night you died, I felt your eardrums crack,

And the short agony, the longer dream,

The Nothing that was neither long nor short;

But I was bound, and could not go that way,

But I was blind, and could not feel your hand

  After he’s said his goodbyes, Natasha follows him back to his room.

“Is he still in the plane somewhere?”

Back at the beginning, when he’d been dropping off the Tesseract at Camp Lehigh – he’d briefly considered it. Dropping off an envelope on Peggy’s desk with the coordinates of the Valkyrie, so that the other him could find… something. Maybe a happy ending, maybe just a chance. But all of time and its knowledge had been laid out before Steve, and he hadn’t resisted one extra indulgence.

It was only time before he met Scott, after all. One extra Particle than he had, one trip to the forties and back – and his self could be spared the pain of thirty years in the ice.

In twenty-twelve, Steve changed the course of history merely by showing up; all deep sea vessels, search parties in the Arctic called home. Captain America was alive and well.

“Seventy five, point two three zero six north, ninety nine point one one three zero west.” With every blink, Steve can see her memorising the numbers. “Find him, kick his ass into gear. Don’t let him run.”

She nods, and remains waiting in the doorway. Steve is motionless on the bed, the looming weight of the future wrapped around his wrist.

He looks at her. Natasha’s lips curve straight up, soft and reassuring.

“See you in a minute,” Steve whispers, and disappears.

  If I could find an answer, could only find

Your meaning, or could say why you were here

Who now are gone, what purpose gave you breath

Or seized it back, might I not hear your voice?

  Back on the platform, Bucky runs to him first. His brows are furrowed with faint surprise.

In that other past, and now that was The Other – Peggy had set him free in the seventies, aided by information that Steve left behind. When Steve re-emerged in twenty-twelve, he had no idea where Bucky was and how the years had passed for him – fettering his impulses in steel, and letting it remain that way. His interference would accomplish little, and Bucky had always managed on without him.

Or maybe that had just been easier for him to believe.

“Not the end of the line just yet,” Steve says.

The surprise smooths out of Bucky’s features, so does the staidness; he squeezes Steve’s elbow once and for a second, that grin seems alive.

“I hate running alone,” Steve tells Sam, who’s standing but two paces behind. He strides forward to catch up, reaches out and wraps Sam’s solid fingers over the strap of the shield in one motion. “Hold this for me, will you? Be back soon.”

He turns and walks. It’s a short one – the lakehouse property isn’t really big. There’s grass everywhere, and dandelions, and no headstones.

Just a tall, stately oak towards the side – foliage in full summer splendour. There’s already a circle of dropped acorns around the base, ready to sprout into a hundred, newer lives.

“Hey.” Steve strokes his fingers over the burnished bark. “I’m back.”

 I have lived many lives, and this one life

 Time that is moved by little fidget wheels

Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.

  Outside the lakehouse, Laura is bundling the kids into a van. Clint steps down from the porch, murmurs something to her, then jogs over to where Steve is watching, arms folded.

“She did have family,” Clint says, almost as an aside. “Sisters, a few others.”

Steve breathes the news in. The scent of summer is strong in the air, lilacs and crabapples and the soil itself.

“I have a few of her effects. They must’ve heard, already, but someone should tell them in-person.”

“I’ll find them.” Steve affirms. Clint nods, and walks back to the van, where Cooper sticks his head out of the open windowpane and gets his hair ruffled teasingly for his efforts.

Steve watches, the warmth of the sun beating down his arms and back. He has a feeling Minsk is pretty nice this time of year too.

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 24

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 24 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 24/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

The Doctor stormed into the TARDIS and pulled the monitor around. “She's just a girl. How can she be?”

The monitor showed them the girl from the Dalek Asylum, along with a number of different photos from the current Clara’s past.

“She can't be. She is. She can't be.” He shoved the monitor away. “She's not possible.”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do,” Elise reassured him.

They picked up Clara and set off on her first real adventure.

“So we're moving through actual time? So what's it made of, time? I mean, if you can just roll through it, it's got to be made of stuff, like jam's made of strawberries. So what's it made of?”

“Well, not strawberries. No. No, no, no. That would be unacceptable.” The Doctor straightened his bowtie.

“And we can go anywhere?”

“Within reason. Well, I say reason…” He’d ended up in a myriad of odd places.

“So, we could go backwards in time.”

“And space, yes.”

“And forwards in time.”

“And space. Totally. So, where do you want to go, eh? What do you want to see?”

“I don't know. You know when someone asks you what's your favorite book and straight away you forget every single book that you've ever read?”

“No. Totally not.”

“Well, that's a thing that happens.”

“And? Back to the question?”

“Okay. So…So…So…” Clara ran towards the doors. “So I'd like to see…I would like to see…What I would like to see is…” She spun around. “…something awesome.”

The Doctor ran around the console and then led Elise and Clara out of the TARDIS.

Clara had her eyes closed.

“Can you feel the light on your eyelids? That is the light of an alien sun. Forward a couple of steps. Okay. Are you ready?” the Doctor asked Clara.

“Yes. No. Yes.” Clara opened her eyes.

“Welcome to the Rings of Akhaten.”

The Rings of Akhaten was an asteroid belt orbiting a huge star.

“It's…”

“It is. It so completely is. But wait, there is more.”

“More what?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The Doctor looked at his watch. “In about five, four, three, two…”

The asteroids parted to reveal a golden pyramid.

“What is it?” Clara and Elise asked.

“The Pyramid of the Rings of Akhaten. It's a holy site for the Sun Singers of Akhate.”

“The who of what?”

“Seven worlds orbiting the same star. All of them sharing a belief that life in the universe originated here, on that planet.”

“All life?”

“In the universe.”

“Did it?”

“Well…it's what they believe. It's a nice story.”

“It’s beautiful,” Elise said.

“Can we see it? Up close?” Clara asked.

The Doctor held out his hand.

Clara took it and they ran back to the TARDIS.

Elise stood there looking at the star.

Clara grabbed her hand and pulled her into the TARDIS.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They stepped out into a marketplace.

It was filled with a wide variety of alien species, some of which Elise had never encountered before.

“Where are they all from?” Clara asked.

“Oh, you know, the local system, mostly,” the Doctor said.

“What do I call them?”

The Doctor started to point out the different alien races. “Well, let's see. Ah! There go some Pan-Babylonians. A Lugarlirakush. Some Eukanians. A Hooloovoo. Ah!” The Doctor walked up an alien and started speaking a language that sounded like gibberish to Elise and Clara. “That chap's a Terraberserker of the Kodonian Belt. You don't see many of them around anymore. Oh! That's an Ultramanta! Do you know, I forget how much I like it here. We should come here more often.”

“You've been here before?” Clara asked.

“Yes, yes, yes. I came here a long time ago with my granddaughter.” He grabbed Elise’s hand and pulled her over to a stall. “I brought you and Amy once.”

Elise furrowed her brows in confusion. “Did you?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I think I would have remembered this place.”

The Doctor shrugged.

Clara caught up to them.

He picked up a basket of blue orbs. “Exotic fruit of some description.” He scanned them. “Right. Non-toxic, non-hallucinogenic. High in free radicals and low in other stuff, I shouldn't wonder.”

Clara and Elise took a bite of it.

Clara shook her head, but Elise on the other hand felt like she’d tasted it before. The Doctor said they’d been here before so maybe she ate one as a child? The memory was there. She could feel it, but she couldn’t remember it.

“Do you like it?” the Doctor asked.

Elise nodded and the Doctor handed her the basket.

“You actually like it?” Clara asked Elise.

Elise shrugged. “Alien food.” Elise pointed to herself. “Alien.”

“So, why is everyone here?” Clara asked the Doctor.

“For the Festival of Offerings. Takes place every thousand years or so, when the rings align. It's quite a big thing, locally, like Pancake Tuesday.”

They kept walking and Clara ran into an alien who started snarling at her. “Oh! Er, Doctor!”

The Doctor walked up and started barking at the alien.

“What's happening? Why is it angry?” Clara asked.

“This isn't an it. It's a she. Dor'een, meet Clara and my daughter Elise. Elise, Clara, meet Dor'een.”

“Dor’een?”

“Loose translation. She sounds a bit grumpy but she's a total love actually, aren't you? Yes, you are. No, actually, she's just asking if we fancy renting a moped.”

Clara barked and the Dor’een barked back. “So, how much does it cost?” Clara asked.

“Not money. Something valuable. Sentimental value. A photograph, love letter, something like that. That's what's used for currency here. Psychometry. Objects psychically imprinted with their history. The more treasured they are, the more value they hold.”

“That's horrible.”

“Better than using bits of paper.”

“Then you pay.”

“With what?”

“You're a thousand years old. You must have something you care about.” Clara walked off.

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and shook his head, putting it back. He looped his arm threw Elise’s and they ventured back into the marketplace. The Doctor watched Elise marvel at all the wares around her.

“I always thought I loved it on Earth, but you know what? I think I like this more,” Elise told him.

“Because it reminds you of Gallifrey?”

Elise’s steps faltered for a second. Never let him see the damage. “We may look human, but we never will be.”

The Doctor patted her hand.

They kept walking until they found Clara near the TARDIS.

“What have you been doing?” the Doctor asked her.

“Exploring.”

Elise grabbed Clara’s arm and dragged her along with them.

“Where are we going now?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They entered an amphitheater that was facing the pyramid.

The ceremony had already begun, so they quickly took their seats.

“Are we even supposed to be here?” Clara asked.

The Doctor hushed her.

“But are we?”

The Doctor hushed her again.

The girl on the pedestal turned around and smiled before starting to sing.

A song was coming from the pyramid too.

The Doctor pulled out a brochure. “They're singing to the Mummy in the Temple. They call it the Old God. Sometimes Grandfather,” the Doctor explained.

“What are they singing?” Clara asked.

“The Long Song. A lullaby without end to feed the Old God. Keep him asleep. It's been going for millions of years, chorister handing over to chorister, generation after generation after generation.”

Everyone around them held out their hands.

“What are they doing?”

“These are offerings. Gifts of value. Mementos to feed the Old God.”

The offerings dissolved as everyone around them started to join in with the song, including the Doctor.

Hearing the Doctor try to sing along brought back many happy memories of him singing her to sleep. Elise set her head on her father’s shoulder.

There was a rumbling noise and the singing stopped.

An energy beam grabbed the little girl and pulled her towards the pyramid.

“Okay, what's happening? Is that supposed to happen?” Clara asked.

“Help!” the little girl screamed.

“Is somebody going to do something? Excuse me, is somebody going to help her?”

The Doctor and Elise got up, running back into the now empty marketplace.

“Why are we walking away? We can't just walk away. This is my fault! I talked her into doing this,” Clara said.

“Listen. There's one thing you need to know about traveling with us. Well, one thing apart from the blue box and the two hearts. We don't walk away.” He walked over to Dor’een and talked to her for a second, before turning to the two women. “I need something precious.”

“Well, you must have something. All the places you've seen, there must be something,” Clara said.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. “This. And I don't want to give it away, because it comes in handy.”

“You're a thousand years ole and that's it? Your spanner?”

“Screwdriver.”

Elise rolled her eyes and took off the bracelet she was wearing, the one she never took off for anything.

The Doctor grabbed her wrist. “No.”

“We need a moped and you don’t want to give up your screwdriver, so what else do you suggest?”

“Your mother gave you that. Do you really want to give up the last thing tying you to your family?”

Before the two could argue about it even more, Clara took off one of the rings on her hand and dropped it in the box.

The two Timelords stared at her.

“It was my mum’s.”

The Doctor released Elise’s wrist and refastened the bracelet. He placed a hand on her head and kissed her temple, before Elise shoved him away from her.

She looked at the bracelet, trying to conjure up memories her parents. But she couldn’t. Nothing existed before her life with the Doctor.

There was nothing tying her to her birth family. She only wore the bracelet because it like it was a part of her.