#at the dead center it’s the ridiculous poses

[satansleftnutcheek]

The agony of watching/reading Trigun is not knowing if they’re all gay as hell or if that’s just how Nightow/the team decided to pose them

Yes I’m looking directly at Vash

[mischiefmaker615]

The Boy is Mine

Rating: R

Summary: Loki finds you after dark.. but who owns who? 

Note: Based off the song The Boy is Mine by Ariana Grande

Requester: @Laer111ee (wattpad)

*Insert slut song here First and play as you read LOL*

Your hips swayed from side to side as your fingers gripped the pole firmly to keep your balance. Shifting your weight as you swung yourself, arched your back and flipped your hair, all were the main ingredience to get the big bucks coming, especially with those regular fat cats in the audience that continued to gawk at you for the 5th day in a row. It paid the bills at least, kept your head away from other problems and.. you just really loved to dance.

Your hair was loose, make up was light but still captured a sexy look, you ditched the ridiculous high heels and just put on the shorter ones that almost said ‘sexy business woman’ and you had your favorite black outfit that almost resembled slave Leia from Star Wars.. or at least, that’s what that one guy shouted from the audience that one time.

As soon as your last song ended, you struck your pose and closed your eyes, catching your breath with a smile as the feeling of paper brushed against your exposed skin as people threw cash and cat called. After a moment, you collected it all after a corny bow and headed down the stairs for the next girl to take over.

‘’hey Y/N, some fella in curtain 5 paid for a private dance’’ your boss whispered before you could get to the back rooms. His grip on your arm indicated his usual ‘I’m telling’ not ‘asking’.

Your eyes glanced over at the closed curtain room, as if expecting to see the gentleman right there and glanced at your boss with a sigh. ‘’fine, then I’m done for the night.’’

‘’sure.’’ He waved off and disappeared elsewhere.

After placing your bag in your locker, tiding yourself up a bit and even changing into something similar, just with more exposed leg space for your usual lap dances and headed over. Ignoring the stares and cat calling as you pass people, you paused at the curtain and took a deep breath- knowing you’ve done hundreds but it was just to prepare for.. anything, and went in.

“hello darling, you’ve never mentioned about your little side business..’’

You stopped dead in your tracks with wide eyes and queasy stomach. Your body ran a cold shiver up your spine as you remained a deer in the headlights at who sat before you, manspreading and comfortable, rocking his perfect black suit and your expression was still.

Snake..

‘’what the hell are you doing here?’’ you managed to squeeze out, your voice not indicating any anger but more.. uncertainty as you glanced at the curtain behind you to make sure it was closed.

‘’don’t worry darling, I’ll keep your little secret’’ Loki smirked and laced his fingers together before him with a cross of his legs. ‘’but might I say, you do look ravishing, especially displaying your skillset and.. assets on stage’’ he smirked, trying to get a rise out of you.

So he had been there that long.. your eyes narrowed in challenge as you remained calm. At least on the outside. Loki has been your long-time crush for a long time, having seen him amongst the tower many times to share some playful bickering and knowledgeable conversation here and there. He was someone to keep things interesting, never boring and got your mind to always think- unlike the dull and self-centered males that also occupied the tower. Most of them anyway. Being an Avenger was also your job, but you just couldn’t give up your first job here when Stark offered you the position, so you worked both, this one obviously in secret- until now.

‘’how did you know I was here?’’ you questioned, crossing your arms as worry showed on your brow nevertheless.. for some strange reason you trusted he would keep your secret- it didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it against you though.

‘’the tower tends to get rather boring, and most of your Midgardian locations don’t suit my interest. But you do, you’ve always have..’’ his voice got dangerously low as he leaned forward as he spoke. ‘’so, I followed you. you tended to disappear every evening and I got curious’’ he smirked.

You looked away a little as he spoke, glad the dim lighting hid your blush you felt come to your cheeks as you took a deep breath. Were you really going to do this? ‘’..you know I could always refuse you right?’’ you challenged out of curiosity.

‘’true,’’ he shrugged, relaxing back on the couch as he watched you, his eyes slipping down from yours a few times. ‘’but I could tell a part of you actually wants to do this,’’ he smirked, his eyes flicking up to yours again. ‘’and I don’t even have to blackmail you.’’

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at each other, almost daring to see who would do what first, but unfortunately it was all you. he was the customer and you hated that he was right. He wasn’t just a customer; you had wanted him for a long time; there was no use in denying it. if you had to do this, you were going to take your time and take charge. You will not give him a chance to belittle or doubt, this was your job and you were good at it.

As if on que, the music had started playing again and you wished you had taken a shot of tequila while you had put your stuff away, because the way he gazed at you now was making it hard to focus. He was sat back, limbs loose and relaxed as if he had been drinking a bit himself. His legs were a bit more together now, his slender hands resting at his thighs as his eyes drank you in now. His expression was difficult to read, but you could tell by his deep breathing and how now and again he would shift a little, that he was aroused, and that made you extremely powerful to offer your own smirk.

Taking a small step forward to be more in the center of his room, you kept your half-lidded eyes on him as your hands gently brushed over your thighs, slowly swaying your hips in the beat of the music while they slowly rose and flattened a little at your covered center.

His chin tilted up as his eyes seemed to pry, almost as if trying to look right through your clothes themselves as he swallowed and remained his composure. Your body slowly turned, showing off as your hands slowly rose around your hips and brushed against your perfect ass with your cut dress covering your intimate parts before you slowly faced him again while you gripped your chest.

Your eyes closed then, as if your own touch alone could make you orgasm and your fingers traveled into your hair while your lips parted. While your eyes were closed as you moved to the music, Loki’s hands briefly brushed against his pants as he began getting antsy, his jaw tight but he remained patient as he drank you in. gods you were beautiful, and you both knew it. the fact that he also knew your personality form your encounters at home as well he felt you were all the sexier.

His breath hitched when you placed your hands on his knees, feeling him having no rejection as you leaned forward and he took advantage of the view of your cleavage. Feeling his tense but loose limbs, you pushed his legs apart, standing between them as you remained holding eye contact and you smirked, seeing a small flash of defeat in his eyes that he hated and loved at the same time.

You had the upper hand now.

You turned yourself and slowly, just ever so slowly to tease him- more- began grinding your ass on him. depending on the package, it could involve touch, but you still weren’t expecting your breath to hitch when you felt his slender hands rest at your hips, his finger tips lightly digging into your flesh as he used strained control to bring you harder again him. speaking of..

By the gods he was huge, and you could feel yourself getting aroused every time he pulled and you pushed your cunt against his hard cock. You almost felt like you could salivate as your grinded more into him, hearing him growl as his grip strengthened ever so slightly, as if to stop himself from slapping your ass. You had him where you wanted him and pulled away, his fingers hesitating to let you go as you turned around to face him and placed your hands on his shoulders with do-me-eyes.

Loki’s lips parted weakly as he remained himself to breath, his eyes looking up into yours as if silently begging for you to take him. you wanted to.. if you wouldn’t get fired. Though it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him a bit as you got onto his lap, your thighs resting against his while your cunt began grinding itself again on his bulge.

His hands went back to your hips as fast as magnets, wanting to grope and touch but he was unsure if he was allowed. You felt him squeeze your flesh as he leaned forward, making you grip his shoulders more as he inhaled your scent with fluttering eyes closed.

This gave you the perfect opportunity to lean forward and run your tongue teasingly up his neck, making your body lift as his cock got impossibly bigger to raise you. his eyes shock open with blown, hungry pupils and his own cologne filled your sensed as you gazed at him. he gave you a frustrated breath, his hips almost thrusting up as if he forgot you both were clothed.

Just to add fuel to the fire, your hands ran down his chest and took his wrists, pulling them off your thighs to rest against your chest as he eagerly began to massage and knead. His eyes never left yours as he almost seemed to study you, admiration on his features as if he never thought this moment would be possible- and he was still trying to believe it.

his thumbs ghosted under the edge of your bra at the bottom-if you want to call it a bra. It was thin as paper, you might as well of not have been wearing one as his movements slowed, asking silent permission as his teeth grasped his bottom lip lightly. Giving a small smile with a nod, his thumbs lifted the bra forward enough to slip his hands in and he almost shuddered in pleasure as he grasped your globes. Your head almost fell back as you moaned, slowing your griding at his bulge to deep, long strokes and you felt a warm tongue run up your neck.

You pulled away just enough to give him a playful smile as he shared one, knowing it was a pay back tease before a hand left your chest to move to the back of your head. It moved it forward, his fingers lightly grasping your hair as he tilted your head up and began sucking at your neck. Your hands went to his shoulders, nails digging into his suit as your own body shuddered in pleasure. He left open mouth kisses below your jawline and ran his tongue to your collar bone.

‘’F-Fuck..’’ you breathed before there was a knock outside the room.

‘’hey Y/N, I’m not paying over time.’’ your boss called and you realized the music had stopped.

Loki pulled away and removed his hands to rest at your hips, looking up at you curiously as you both caught your breaths.

‘’..the songs over..’’ you whisper, your eyes breaking contact as you use his shoulders to help yourself off of him and he keeps his hands on your hips for as long as possible as he lets go and stands up.

His height reminds you just how different you both are as you brush and straighten your clothes before you feel his hand at your chin and lift it to look at him. his expression was gentle but deadly serious and seriously still aroused.

‘’what time are you off?’’

Your blush darkens and you could feel your arousal as your thighs close tight. ‘’now-‘’

He leans down a bit, his knees bending to accommodate his height as he holds your eyes hostage and your noses almost touch.

‘’then this is most certainly not over.’’

Tag List: @foxherder @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

Note: Thank you for reading! it's kind of like a series~ you send songs, i write based off of them LOL More on my masterlist!

~Funny *on the subject*

[oliversrarebooks]

39. Fitz's Rose

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June 1905

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, human auction

There had been many a time when Fitz had stood in the wings of a stage, thinking that his life depended on his next performance going well. Usually, it was because he was flat broke and depended on getting more bookings in order to eat another day.

It was never quite so literal as it was tonight.

Fitz felt sick to his stomach as he watched men and women being led onto the stage, placed under the spotlight, and sold off to a crowd of jovial vampires. While he could occasionally hear a muffled whimper, most of the humans were half-asleep or dazed, placed deep under spells of submission. Miss Lily had offered the same to him, to spare him his nerves, and he'd declined. He wanted to see. He didn't want to waste away the last few moments of his life before he was sold like a choice cut of meat.

For the thousandth time he reassured himself that he was going to be fine. He had the highest quality blood in the auction, according to Miss Lily, which was why he was being sold last. And he had quite thoroughly charmed Mr. Alexander, Miss Lily's rich and handsome friend. There was no question in Fitz's mind that Mr. Alexander would be bidding on him after seeing that look of desperation. He seemed the sort that would be an easy pushover to a pretty face, too. 

It would be fine. He'd been in far worse situations than this. He couldn't think of any at the moment, but...

"It's time," said Miss Lily, tugging at his golden chain. He'd been so lost in his self-reassurance that he hadn't noticed the number of people backstage dwindling to nothing.

He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. If he were to go out here, this is how he would want it to happen. On stage, with an audience. His element.

"And now the final lot of the evening!" said the auctioneer. "We don't see Triple-A graded blood in this auction house every year, folks, so get those pocketbooks ready. A beautiful thrall, cleverly trained by our very own Miss Lily to be entertaining as well as completely obedient -- Lot Seven, Fitzwilliam de Hastings!"

Fitz held his head high and followed Miss Lily onto the stage, stopping dead center in the spotlight, where he belonged.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the light, and he could see the well-dressed vampires filling the hall, auction paddles sitting in their laps, waiting to bid on him. He gave an ingratiating smile and struck a pose that was calculated to be halfway between ridiculous and charming, swirling around in his red velvet ball gown and fetchingly exposing his neck.

"Dinner and a show all in one -- I'm an absolute steal, folks," he said.

There were laughs from the audience, a few sympathetic looks, and some grimaces of disgust -- good. He was aiming to endear himself only to the vampires most likely to treat him well.

Speaking of which, he spotted Mr. Alexander in the third row from the front, a terrifyingly intense look on his face.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"The bidding will start at four thousand for this excellent thrall. Do I hear four thousand? Yes, from the gentleman in the red tie. Do I hear four thousand five hundred..."

The bids began to fly, and Fitz's head was spinning as he tried to keep track of who was bidding on him. Most were vampires who had visited his little showcase room -- he couldn't seem to remember which were better prospects than the others, now. But he did notice that Mr. Alexander wasn't bidding on him, his lips tight and eyes sharp as the price rose.

"Six thousand five hundred from the woman in the pink dress. Can I get seven thousand? This is the last thrall on offer, folks, the highest quality of blood -- yes, seven thousand from our own Lady Evelyn -- "

Seven thousand. A sum that his father easily made and spent in a day. Was that all his blood was worth? Was that all his life was worth, in the end? 

"Eight thousand, do I hear eight thousand? Eight thousand? Going once, going twice --"

"Eight thousand."

Fitz was surprised to find himself breathing a sigh of relief as Mr. Alexander finally bid. It must be Miss Lily's influence, but this particular vampire had stirred something in him beyond his newly inconvenient desire for fangs in his neck. He was handsome, that much was true, but that was only a small part of it. It was the way he'd responded to Fitz's hamfisted attempts at flirting, the way he'd made Fitz feel as he moved in close as if to feed. 

Out of anyone in this sordid crowd, Mr. Alexander seemed like someone who might appreciate Fitz, and that was the best hope he had right now as the bids began to move again.

"And that's ten thousand from Mr. Alexander! Going once --"

Their eyes met, and Fitz didn't think it was his imagination that Mr. Alexander seemed as relieved as he did.

"Going twice --"

"Eleven thousand, if you please, auctioneer."

The voice was strange, inhuman, like a musical instrument come to life, and everyone in the audience turned to look at the back of the house, Fitz included.

There was a tall man standing behind the rows of chairs, thin and stiff as a flagpole. His skin was so pale as to resemble a marble statue, and his silvery hair flowed down his back in a tight tail. He was wearing a suit of all black, accessorized only with a gold pocket watch at his waist.

Fitz heard his chain rustle as Miss Lily grasped it tight, and when he glanced at her, her expression was pure fear. Mr. Alexander was turned around and only half-visible, but he looked in even worse shape.

The auctioneer cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. Eleven thousand to the esteemed lord. Going once --"

What was happening? Fitz could hardly swallow down his panic. Why wasn't the auctioneer asking for more bidding? Why didn't Mr. Alexander raise his paddle? Why did every vampire look frozen to the spot?

"Going twice. Sold."

The gavel came down, and Fitz had been purchased, purchased by a vampire with a frankly terrifying demeanor. No easy life with a rich pushover awaited him. The room was swaying. He couldn't throw up, not on stage, not on his ball gown. And he couldn't cry --

"Showtime, Fitz," whispered Miss Lily, and Fitz mercifully felt his mind shift away from his grasp. "Don't panic. Be calm and polite, and for pity's sake, be obedient."

"Sire!" Mr. Alexander finally roused from his stupor, nearly knocking over his chair as he stood up. "Sire, please -- "

"Hush, Alexander," said the strange vampire with the musical voice. "Wait upon me in the parlor until I have completed my purchase. We will discuss your shortcomings then."

Mr. Alexander looked dead inside as he sat back down. "Yes, Sire."

Sire? What did that mean? His father? This vampire clearly had some kind of hold on Mr. Alexander that Fitz didn't understand.

Fitz's new owner approached the stage, and not a single person moved a muscle or tried to stop him. From an unseen pocket, he produced a single, flawless red rose, and presented it to Fitz.

"For your performance, Fitzwilliam de Hastings," he said.

And Fitz felt his body move.

With motions that weren't his own, he took the rose. He curtsied low, gracefully pulling the folds of his dress outwards, head bowed in deference. "Thank you, Master," said the voice coming from his throat, meek and soft and well-behaved.

That wasn't him.

That wasn't him.

Sound and movement didn't return to the room until the lord had taken his exit out in the back of the house.

Prev >> Masterlist >> Next

Please join me next week for Fitz's terror.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes

[girlactionfigure]

🔘 Wed morning  - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( 1 of 2 )

🟨 Many people immediately asked for evidence the Rafah attack reports were false, which the IDF provided definitively around 12 hours later.  And people asked: how did we know basically immediately?

- - if Hamas is publicizing it, it’s a lie.  They literally have created an industry with cameramen, lighting, professional horror makeup people, etc.  Yesterday’s CNN headline picture was obviously posed, with makeup on the mourning people.

- - when the figures change every hour or every report, it’s a lie.  You can tell their PR people are throwing out numbers until they see what gets accepted.

- - when the details don’t make sense, it’s likely a lie.

BUT, the reporters and then the public absorbs THE FIRST INFO - no matter how ridiculous.  We applaud those fighting the good fight with information, it’s always too late.  As from the next item below, we have world policy being made on the basis of the lie.  

One response I have heard is to immediately emphasize and reflect, which might force people to think a bit, like this: “I heard the Israelis bombed 50 innocent people!”… “Really?  I heard they bombed 5 million innocent children holding build-a-bears! And I saw a picture!  Nice bears though. And beautiful outfits on the children, wonder where you can buy them?”  

.. And they try again: Arab channels are reporting about 21 dead in an attack by an Israeli warplane on the tent area in Mawasi of Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip.  No documentation, no pictures, but watch for the Al Jazeera and CNN headlines.  IDF: no such attack.

Regarding the original, here’s it all in a nice video: https://x.com/AbuAliEnglishB1/status/1795504079491272925?t=BI4qgX821mbOTPwS2JaNOw&s=19

▪️ALGERIA AND SOUTH AFRICA TO REQUEST UN SEC COUNCIL RESOLUTION RE: RAFAH.  

▪️CROSS GREEN LINE SHOOTING - TULKARM to BAT HEFER.. masked terrorists identified with Hamas were seen shooting at Bat Hefer from the Tulkarm border wall, and yesterday there was an infiltration team that cross the wall and was captured. Also noting that Route 6 follows directly along part of the wall, putting both the towns and the major Israel traffic route at risk. (N12)

"Vengeance and Liberation Youth" Battalion take responsibility for shooting at Bat Hefer.

▪️PM ORDERS HALT ON “SETTLEMENT” HOUSE DESTRUCTION, DEFENSE DEPT DOES IT ANYWAY.. Despite Prime Minister Netanyahu's order not to destroy houses belonging to reservists during wartime - security forces destroyed this morning near the settlement of Adam a house of a soldier who is in the reserves. The Prime Minister's Office stated that his directive is still in effect. 

▪️CHINA REQUESTS HOUTHIS STOP SHIP ATTACKS, HOUTHIS SAY NO.. there was a meeting of the Chinese Foreign Minister in Yemen with senior officials in Yemen to stop the Houthi attacks in the Red and Arabian seas.  The answer: no.

🔘 Wed morning  - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( 2 of 2 )

▪️3 HERO SOLDIERS HAVE FALLEN.. (not from our regular source, so I’m less sure of this)  Paratroopers Brigade 50, Amir Glilov, Uri Bar Or, Udi Ofer.  (No ages or locations in the notice).  May their families be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and may G-d avenge their blood.

▪️ECONOMY - INTEREST RATES.. Bank of Israel leaves the interest rate unchanged at 4.5%; The prime interest rate - 6%.  The dollar-shekel rate stays steady on the news at $1 = NIS 3.69

▪️SCAM / HACK WARNING.. People are receiving an incoming call from a confidential number, the speaker identifies as a representative of the police cyber team OR the national HQ for the protection of children OR the police info center, and requests that they provide a code received in an SMS message.

The code they ask for is the WhatsApp activation code, and will allow the hacker to take control of your WhatsApp.

NOBODY official will call you and ask for any SMS codes, EVER.  It’s a scam!

Hack attempts can be reported to the cyber center -> dial 119.

The cyber center recommends turning on 2 step verification for WhatsApp: Settings>Account>Two-step verification.

♦️Gaza: Air force attacks east of Khan Yunis and Sheikh Radwan.

♦️Gaza: Airstrikes in Nusirat, central and western Rafah.

♦️Gaza: Artillery in various areas in Rafah, north of Nusirat, east of Al-Maazi and Al-Boreij, east of Sajaiya, Jabaliya and Beit Lahiya.

♦️COUNTER-TERROR operations overnight in Shevika (near Tulkarm) and Tubas and Shoafat.  Plenty of gunfire, explosives thrown at security vehicles.

⭕ HOUTHIS shot 5 missiles at a Greek ship yesterday. HIT with 3 !

⭕ HEZBOLLAH ROCKETS at Shtula, 2 rounds.

[londonspirit]

Imagining what could have happened if the creator dared to dream bigger is fandom’s driving ethos. Whether or not the people behind the scenes expected to have the most passionate bloc of their audience fixate on a queer romance that may or may not have been intentional is irrelevant. When queerness is still on the periphery of society, it’s unsurprising that the relationships fans obsess over and seek to actualize are predominantly queer.

Our Flag Means Death, whose second season is now airing on Max, doesn’t require its fans to dream of the queer possibilities. Instead, it’s that rare breed of work that raises the romantic subtext—typically buried under bromatic jokes or subtle ambiguity—to undeniable text from the very beginning. And when fandoms and creative teams are both on the same page of the same unabashedly queer love story, as is the case for Our Flag, the experience is nothing short of sublime.

Queer media, particularly TV, has entered something of a golden age since the aughts. There are the early mainstream pioneers like The L Word and Will and Grace; the wholesome coming-of-age romcoms like Heartstopper and Love, Victor; and the adaptations taking beloved stories one big step further, like Interview with the Vampire, Good Omens, and Hannibal. There are gritty, inspired-by-real-life dramas like Orange is the New Black and Pose, murderous thrillers like Killing Eve and Orphan Black, raunchy comedies like What We Do in the Shadows and Sex Education, and many more stories featuring queer leads with fully fleshed-out storylines.

But even among these big names, this silly gay pirate show stands out by taking what these shows do best and fulfilling a particular need few have met before. The reasons are myriad: It refuses to use queer subtext as a prop or ransom for audience loyalty. It eschews the will-they-won’t-they dance that positions love as an end rather than a beginning. It defies the trope that you must renounce your past in order to move on. It scoffs at the notion of a ceiling for complex queer characters and relationships in a single show. And it demonstrates that depicting the experiences of queer people (and, just as importantly, people of color) don’t always have to center brutality and trauma—that healing can come from making acceptance the norm and bigotry the butt of ridicule, and that being kind doesn’t necessitate being passive.

As a show that didn’t explicitly market itself as “LGBTQ,” one of Our Flag’s most striking aspects is how it subverts the way this genre typically approaches romance. You could argue that the love story begins when Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) is recognized as the pirate he wants to be—while three-quarters of the way dead—by none other than the dread Blackbeard (Taika Waititi). Or you could say it begins when Blackbeard, a.k.a Ed Teach, is seen, for the first time, as someone who deserves softness and finery by the epitome of softness and finery himself. Or when Stede comforts Ed as he curls up in a bathtub reliving his worst memories. Or when Stede picks roasted snake out of Ed’s beard. Or when Ed gives himself up to the British to save Stede’s life. Or when…

You get my drift. There’s an entire season’s worth of scenes that make up the foundations of a fandom: moments of intimacy and connection that gesture toward the possibility of something more. These are the planks and rigs of a ship sturdy enough to outpace the fleet of fanworks chasing such moments down until feelings are admitted, consummated, and set sailing off into the sunset. In hindsight, Our Flag was undoubtedly heading in this direction. But it wasn't until the most incontrovertible on-screen gesture of romance happened—a kiss—that fans heaved a sigh of relief. Because fandom, for all its capacity to will alternative universes into being, is inherently bound to the media from which it springs, and many have only ever cast queer love as bait.

But with Our Flag, most fans aren’t at all concerned about what direction the story will take. And the key difference is that they trust the creators wholeheartedly.

For many queer fans, it’s a novel experience to interface with a creative team that is not only aware of exactly who the audience is and what they care about, but also proudly and vocally celebrates them. In interviews, producer and lead actor Taika Waititi has stated that he collects fan art on his phone. Vico Ortiz (who plays the nonbinary pirate Jim Jimenez) has shared that fan art encouraged them to get gender-affirming top surgery. Creator and showrunner David Jenkins once remarked that fan discussions are so spot-on, it was as if they had “been in the writers’ room.” And several queer actors on the show have expressed that the fandom has made them feel even more connected to the LGBTQ+ community.

Our Flag is one of the rare cases where fans and creators share the same vision for a given work. There are no calls for the figurative death of the overly originalist author, nor strict separation of the "canon" of the original work from the "fanon" interpretations of the audience. There is no need for fans to dig for subtext, because what they’ve been searching for has been on board with them all along—not as a blink-and-miss-it pantomime or a nothing-left-to-lose Hail Mary, but a queer love story that was intentionally, thoughtfully crafted from the beginning.

Our Flag presents fans with a vibrant world where everything is mostly beautiful and almost nothing hurts—at least, not yet. Fans can surmise the shape of the second act and the close of the third, even if they don’t know exactly how they’ll get there. But with full confidence in the creators, fans have the opportunity to stretch their imagination beyond tallying evidence and righting wrongs—and it makes for a fandom experience less a eulogy at a funeral of another buried gay, more a toast at the most extravagant and absurd cruise-ship wedding to ever grace the seven seas.

We are all on the same page of the same story, and the experiences of everyone involved is so much richer for it. Or, as Stede would say, treasure is the real treasure.

Fandom, like being a pirate, is in many respects a very queer enterprise. It centers on abandoning the rules so you can survive; grabbing every scrap of home you can find and making it your own; sharing the spoils with the people who see and accept you for who you are and who you want to be. Or, in the words of the show’s pseudo-antagonist, Izzy Hands (Con O’Neill), it's about belonging to something—a something that, I believe, could be enough to help you fall back in love with life and the world.

I think often of the scene that first drew me into Our Flag: Stede asks his former wife, Mary (Claudia O’Doherty), what it feels like to be in love. Looking back at it now, I realize her response describes what the experience of being a part of a community a show like Our Flag creates can feel like. Because love, she tells him, is as easy as breathing. It’s understanding each other’s idiosyncrasies and seeing the charm in them. It’s exposing each other to new things and laughing a lot. It’s passing the time so well together.

To every queer fan out there: I hope you find that, too. I hope you can name it without fear. And I hope you will be embraced for that revelation, and all the wonder and joy it brings.

[randomfanner]

How Would it Feel?

TW: Violence, lots and lot of violence because it is Durge.

Plot: The Dark Urge begins to fantasize about killing the tyrant whom has created their glorious plan.

Calax does not appreciate it.

The tyrant and his grand plan of tyranny, orchasted with the help of a Bhaalspawn. An utterly ridiculous prospect made into truth. 

Bane and his collection of Banites was never looked favorably upon by any of the Bhaalists. Despite the fact the dead three had been a trio that took on the powers of Jergal, there was never any sense of comradery between the gods it seemed. At least never something stable enough to function long term.

Why would they continue working together? The three had gotten what they all wished for, godhood. Their partnership was as good as finished once their mutual goal had been reached.  

Calax’s back was pressed against the wall near his desk, watching as Gortash fiddled with documents that Calax didn’t nor did he have any interest in understanding. Gortash’s job was to be the iron fist, the one who would run the ins and outs of daily life in the new emperor he planned on forging. The one to pass laws that would benefit the both of them and keep the frontline of power.

Calax had his role of course, and it was not in some fancy office, decorated with fine and soft silks of glorious royal purple hue. It was not in the realm of gold and silver and copper that would decorate the tyrant as he paraded himself to the adoring public. It was not in strategy halls or law meetings, swaying those who fell for sweet words.

Calax’s role was to be steeped in the blood of their enemies, of those who would pose a threat to their empire. Sowing the seeds of chaos that would blossom into the flowers of prosperity, much like how Ketheric would do the same for the fear. All of the pieces to be arranged by Gortash to follow his grand design.

Calax watched him, the mastermind of their plan. He had played his part in every way. Coming up with how and having the resources to execute the plan. Soon their Illithid empire would span across all of Faerūn and it was thanks to him that it was at all possible.

It was going so perfectly smoothly in fact, Gortash may not even be needed anymore.

How would it feel, Calax wondered? That wonderful brain crushed under his fingers, the gray matter crushing from his hand. Ripping that silvered tongue from his throat, shredding the thing that had charmed many including the child of Bhaal. To hold the beating heart in his fingers, crushing it as his warm blood gushed out from his fingers.

“Is there something you needed, Calax?” Gortash didn’t even look up from his work as he asked the question.

Calax’s hand stopped in the air. It took the tiefling a moment to process what he had been doing. Calax took a step back as he pulled his hand back towards his body.  “... It is nothing,” Calax muttered.

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“If you are certain,” Gortash said as he picked up a pen, beginning a reply to one of the letters without a care in the world. 

Calax sucked in a breath as he walked around the desk. “I am going out.”

“Shall I see you later?” Gortash asked. 

“Mmmm,” maybe, maybe not. Calax wasn’t sure what the answer was as his bare feet moved from the hard and cold wood to the soft carpet in the center of the office. Calax pushed open the wooden door and shut it behind him before he rested his entire body against the door. 

Calax put a hand over his face and moved it back, running over his curved horns and into his dark hair, forever stained red. His urges had been quiet towards the tyrant this far. Of course the thought of spilling his blood had come to mind from time to time, but only flickers in bigger thoughts. Ripping through a conference of Banites that Gortash was leading, devouring the corpses of nobles at a ball Gortash attended, removing the heads of citizens when he walked behind Gortash in public.

The two of them as they lay on the altar of Bhaal, their lives fading in union as they both went to the murder lord.

It had yet to be simply the wish to rip Lord Enver Gortash to shreds.

Calax shook his head as he moved off the door and began to march through the halls, letting his mind focus on that. Other people, the screams of horror and the color of their blood. The constant red that would flow from them.

That would flow from Enver Gortash once he ripped him apart limb by limb.

No.

Calax couldn’t kill him. He was the key to their empire. To the way they would rule the world together. 

Gortash was the key in the bloody mess of the world Calax would bring once he had control of the Elder Brain. The last thing Gortash sees being the way the earth burned all due to his wonderful planning, all for Lord Bhaal. The anguish as his perfectly crafted empire became nothing more than dust due to the assassin he had brought along to fulfill the plan. 

Calax looked down in front of him as he snapped out of his fantasy.

Underneath him was a maid. He hadn’t even noticed how he ripped her head off when he was lost in thought. Calax sucked in a breath through his nose as he stood up. Someone else would clean it up when they found it. 

He needed out of these finely decorated halls. 

He needed to dye the streets red.

If he stated the craving for flesh, perhaps he would be spared the thoughts of ruining Gortash’s plan. Of ruining Gortash. 

Father would spare him, after all the tyrant was still useful.

At least for now. And surely Calax could find more ways the tyrant could be useful for spilling blood. Bane still lived despite the existence of Bhaal, the dead three always found use for the others eventually. 

Calax would just have to do the same for Gortash.

Surely.  

[blackjackkent]

LMAO. The group got absolutely toasted by some of the security systems at the front of the Selune outpost and I'm probably going to have to reload, but as soon as Gale expired, THIS happened.

"Well met! I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep, and if you see this manifestation, that means I have prematurely perished. However, for reasons that cannot be disclosed, it is of vital importance that my death be remedied at your earliest convenience. You may rest assured that I do not speak out of self preservation alone - many lives depend on my return to the living within the span of two days. I trust I have made myself clear?"

...Gale, you are so extra lmao.

Karlach had the lead in this conversation because I had clicked on her in a desperate attempt to get out of the environmental turn that was nuking everyone, and she looked utterly bemused by this whole conversation.

"How am I supposed to bring you back to life?"

"I have upon my deceased person a magical item that can accomplish my return, but such is the value and rarity that it is protected by a multi-level security protocol. I will now explain the protocol. Step one is to retrieve from my person a pouch I wear over my heart. Next you must unthread the purple seam that seals it in a counterclockwise fashion. Do not touch any other colored strand. Inside the pouch, you will find a folded letter and a tiny flute. Unfold the letter, and note the markings in the top and bottom corners. These are the notes you will need to play. Starting from the bottom right, play the notes in correct order - clockwise this time. Upon completion of the tune, a magma mephit will appear, which will pose the following question: I'ss k'cha t'chiss n'aga? This is Ignan for "What is my name?" The answer is "K'ha'ssji'trach'ash'. Pronounce the name correctly and the mephit will breathe on the letter. Stay clear, because the little scamp can melt metal. Words will now appear on the letter's surface, effectively turning the letter into a Scroll of True Resurrection. Use it to bring me back to life."

Oh my god.

"This is all ridiculously elaborate."

"I think ingenious is the word you're looking for. Now repeat my instructions back to me, please."

"I got it. Seams, notes, names - the lot."

"In that case, this will be an easy exercise. Step one?"

"Forget it. I'm going to resurrect you now if that's all right with you."

"Have it your way. I can only hope your memory stretches further than your patience. Best of luck with the protocol! May my cold dead hands soon be refilled with the warmth of life so they can shake yours in gratitude."

Incredible.

By the time I managed to get the game back into turn-based mode (it dropped out of it when Hector went down, I think, and then everyone just stood there getting repeatedly blasted by the Lasers of Selune), Hector and Gale were both dead, Karlach was downed, and Shadowheart was barely able to help her up and get them both back under cover. So the current state of play is Karlach (1 HP), Shadowheart (12 HP), two dead humans, a dead minotaur we were fighting when this all went down, and two really vigorous lasers.

I'd prefer not to have to reload especially after that whole spiel from Gale. XD so gonna quickly have K&S look around and see if they can find an off switch.

Gale and Hector just have their dead bodies smoking in the party inventory screen.

???????? That seems bad.

The lasers seem connected to a statue of Selune at the center of the area. I wasn't able to find an interaction point before but now that the stakes are higher maybe there's something to see.

The gem at the top is destructable which seems like a good place to start.

Shooting it from the top of the stairs seems to have turned off the lasers - and also gave Shadowheart inspiration for destroying a Selunite relic. XD

The next exciting challenge is dealing with the necrotic aura Gale is exuding, which makes it more than a little challenging to get at his security system in the first place. But we got there in the end (after a short rest so Karlach didn't keep passing out every time she got near him).

Here we go. Amusingly, we did indeed have to go through all those steps to get this whole business sorted. Luckily I already copied it all out as part of writing this post. XD The notes we had to play in the second step spell out D-E-A-D, because Gale is, as previously mentioned, incredibly extra. :P

Hector, despite currently being literally dead, got inspired by us correctly following all the instructions and getting the true resurrection scroll. Shadowheart was also inspired by us resurrecting someone. We were also able to use a Revivify scroll to get Hector up too!

Success! (I accidentally stole Gale's clothes when I took all his stuff whoops.)

OK definitely time for a long rest. XD

[daughter-of-inklings]

word count: 1,301 excerpt: Lost Princess || Ch. 8 - Of Thorns & Roses

“Hi, pretty boy,” Elanoriel ran her hand over his snout as he wandered close, “Did you know your rider’s an idiot?”

“Me? And not the dumbass that just declared war on the whole of the Lunnaelian Empire? One of, if not, the biggest empires in the world right now? You just dated and signed your own death warrant, but I’m the idiot here?” 

She narrowed her eyes, leveling him with a glare, He huffed and let his head fall back against the hay, ears pressed back to his head. “You weren’t supposed to get involved, Nicholas.” She sighed, rolling back the rest of the shirt to reveal the gash fully, “.. none of you were.” Her hand hovered over the wound, “This is going to sting, ‘kay?”

He nodded, and braced himself, “... they killed people, Ela. Lots of people– enough to make the ballroom a graveyard.”

“They told me they wouldn’t,” her voice was quiet, betrayed, “.. they told me that nobody would get hurt, that nobody needed to be hurt. That I just needed to put on a show so people would focus on me, and Dianne could steal my father’s bow from the treasure room.”

She pressed her hand to the cut, fully covering the gash beneath it. He winced and sucked in a breath, his claws digging into the hay. She mumbled an apology, taking in a deep breath and calling up her magick to focus at her palm; at her exhale, a warmth spread itself through the wound, glowing silver. The skin began to piece and knit itself back together, layers growing across the cut to meet at its center, melding and solidifying as it once was.

“... And the princess?”

“.. Safe.” Elanoriel sighed, “As safe as she can be, with the foxes and Amalthea. They’ll wait for the fight to blow over, then return her to Marcus and the knights.” 

He was quiet for a moment, “And the one who attacked her?”

“Not ours. Seems we’re not the only ones with a grudge against Julienna.” She leaned close to inspect her work, prodding around and pinching with her fingers. He’d be sore for a couple of days as the magick worked in his body, but he’d survive. 

“... what was I supposed to do, Ela? Leave you there alone to die?” His voice was the softest she’d heard, strained, the back of his hand over his eyes to avoid looking at her directly. To avoid the answer he knew she’d give, even if it wasn’t her own.

“I don’t need you to protect me, Foxy.” 

“That’s not what I said.” His gaze met hers, “Is it so wrong of me to not want you dead? To wish you free of the burden of this existence? Is it so wrong, Ela, for me to want to stand beside you?” 

“And get yourself killed?”

“And you? What about you? What happens when you die?”

“It will have been a valiant death. To die fighting is the greatest honor an avariel can know.”

“Is that all that matters, then? To die a martyr for people who’d sooner spit on your grave then lend you a hand?”

“I will have done my job in the end, protecting them. I have to. That’s… That’s what I do, Nicholas.”

“But that’s not fair, Ela. Not to you, not to me, not to your parents- not to anyone. You were not brought into this world solely to fight people’s battles for them. Don’t you deserve to have a happy life too, in whatever manner that means to you?”

“... I have to, Nicholas.” Though her voice was stern and heavy, it lacked conviction, as though her hand trembled to put the sword to hang above her own head. “It’s my burden to bear as their princess, as their queen.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Nicholas watching over her as she continued proding, touching, making sure the skin had healed how it was meant to. He knew that though she was physically with him, her mind had wandered elsewhere— to another battle, or to another scheme. Or perhaps it’d wandered back home, to that manor tucked into the forest edge, where it always seemed to go when she wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

“... hey, princess,” he struck a ridiculous pose, propping himself up onto his elbows to better wink at her. “Like what you see?”

She blinked, surprised, unable to suppress her startled laugh. “I’d like you better if you didn’t move so I could check over my work.”

“Will it at least scar up cool?”

“It’ll be on you, so most likely not.” 

“That hurts, Ela.”

He rose to sit, lifting his shirt to examine the pale scar running perpendicular to his left hip. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Yes, but it shouldn’t have been, is the point. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.” 

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he mocked in her own voice, “Do you hear yourself? That’s like asking the sun not to rise, or the birds to not sing.” He shook his head, and rose to his feet. He laid his hands at her waist where he felt they often belonged, and lifted her up onto the hay bales with care. “Your turn.”

“I’m fine–” a rose color blushed in her cheeks, and she drew her wings tight around her, “There’s no need for this, we don’t have time–”

He ignored her completely, looking to the owl and sharing with it a look of annoyance. The corset of her dress had been laced wrong, too tight, and dug into her skin. He made quick work of it, untying it and using its ribbon to tie his hair back. He dug a claw through the cloth, poking a small hole first, then tearing it across the length of the wound at her side. Though his had mostly healed, hers still bled, the silver of her blood staining the dress and inside of the corset. Small flower buds, smaller than the length of his nail, had already begun to sew themselves into the material, ready to sprout. 

“This dress was expensive–”

“I’ll fix it up later, but first– the bleeding.”

He slid one of her gloves off and folded once, twice, until the lace was thick and in layers. He held it out in front for her to bite down into. She frowned, but bit into the glove all the same, falling back against the hay bale, cushioned by her feathers. She dug her fingers into the hay and braced herself.

“Ready?”

Elanoriel shook her head no, and he chuckled, placing his right hand over the gash. He closed his eyes, feeling the lingering sense of her magick within him, drawing up his own. When he opened them again, his eyes were clear as a glacier, the chill of his breath visible like fog when he exhaled. The cold from his hand penetrated the skin underneath, a shiver dragging up her spine as it turned to a burning sensation licking along the wound. Her side went numb as the ice bit deeper, effectively cauterizing the thing closed as he pulled his hand away. Small, intricate snowflake patterns wove themselves around the pink flesh, crumbling into nothingness as he pressed a soft kiss there.

“… you realize what it means if you come with me, yes?”

Nicholas shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his arms beneath her figure and lifting her up into his arms. He winced, but took great care to settle her onto Pooki’s back. “Someone’s gotta keep track of all your stupid. And if Rhys isn’t going to do his job and guard you, well, it looks like that idiot’s going to be me. ‘Sides,” he mounted behind her, resting his head atop hers, "This is significantly more exciting than studying, or arranged marriages.” 

[synonymouswithanonymous]

More Thoughts and Body Language thoughts

My thoughts, I like to do commentary. Again I don't ever expect anyone to even read my thoughts. Just throwing them out there. 😊😊😊

This is so Ridiculous, looking at completely normal photos from events where they're posed in front of cameras on the red carpet, and trying to come up with a body language assessment? This is really, really irrational. I mean do people really think from the smallest glimpses imaginable they can fully assess and legit theorize about a person's character and then randomly say they're a narcissist? Again overused and not understood. Based on red carpet photos. Are you freaking kidding me? I mean really what the Hell? You want her to seem bad so badly you take great photos and try to flip them to find a meaning that validates your hate. The face in the third one of a set looks "chilling" to you? Her stopping laughing long enough to do a model pose chills you? This is ludicrous. A normal red carpet photo lol, where they look happy chills you. This is almost as bad as the whole "he's too close to Roberta" clips edited to not show he was actually behind her a bit, talking to another woman to R's right. Other than that looked like regular group photo chaos to me. Bc they wanted the clips to be seen a certain way. They even said that's why they showed them spliced that way. A way that's not exactly truthful, designed to make him look bad. To perpetuate an idea, that you wanted to see tension where there is none. 🙄🙄🤔🤔

Why are people so quick to do a snap judgement on another person based on practically zero information? As if you could read the emotions and intentions of people none of us know, on their face from a few snaps of a camera. or tiny 8 second videos. Well here's an article where people talk about how body language isn't really reliable. Which should be obvious bc we are all different people, not robots programmed to a set of defined movements And behaviours, but I guess it's not obvious. Or they just are really stretching themselves to try to make this woman look bad (they're failing) bc she's living with her boyfriend AHA and close to engagement or already engaged.

"But the idea that body language can be “read” like a book is false. As three researchers on non-verbal communication wrote, “There really isn't such a thing as ‘body language’.”

“There is no scientifically validated dictionary for understanding what people are thinking but not saying, based on their face and body movements,” said Vincent Denault, a postdoctoral fellow in psychology at McGill University who is also the co-founder of the Center for Studies in Nonverbal Communication Sciences at the Research Center of the Montreal Mental Health University Institute."

I'd like to say I not only find hating on an actor's GF, none of us know, to be ridiculous but the methods of hate and manipulating their words/actions to be ridiculous as well.

Do people really believe they're all Sherlock, because they read an article or saw a video about body language? To have such delusion in your own abilities, about people you've never met in real life, isn't that a trait a narcissist would have? Not saying these haters are narcissistic, bc you can't diagnose someone without many hours of in person sessions etc. But it is a trait that's common (one could argue everyone with confidence has some of these common traits, my point is just bc of confidence and one trait, does not a narcissist make). So why judge someone in such a way, when you cannot know?

And is humour dead? Since when is a good diarrhea story a bad move? It's one of the most relatable and embarrassing things humans go through. It's funny, it's humanizing, why are people acting like he's just ruined their pristine view of this very human, human? He's also in some ways downplaying it, a little kid could hear this and think, ok it happened to him it's not so bad. It's nothing to fret over forever. 😊 Or thinking that he's going to regret sharing a funny story of the night of diarrhea? Lol don't ever watch South Park if poop humour isn't for you. 😂😂😂

Why are people still saying he used to be all about privacy before Johanne? He was only ever selectively private. But more private than a lot of celebs. From Twitter love letters to his and Rikke's "first time" I mean come on, he's been naked on a beach with naked Malte and naked ladies, years ago, with a hat covering just his and their private bits. And some people are actually believing he was ever anything more than selectively private? No judgement from me, he sowed his wild oats til he found the right one. Imo. Totally normal. He's a celeb, he's careful with his image. I'm not a fan bc I think he's perfect and deserves a pedestal, but bc he's a good actor, seems like a good person overall, better than most celebs, and he's savvy enough to try to control his public image. Trying to tear him down bc he's in love, is also imo, just rude and the way it's being done is irrational/ridiculous. Just goes to show imo that if that's all you can come up with for either party, body language, irrational theories, lies/manipulations, "privacy", and spliced vids, then your argument doesn't have legs to stand on (especially since his fam/friends have high opinions of her and that holds more weight to me than internet haters) . then again I've always thought they were a normal lovely couple. They're just a couple in love, that started as really good friends, why not be happy that they're happy and found each other? Imo it's great when your lover, is also your really good friend. 😊😊😊

Maybe celebs need this as a t-shirt.

Ahh another long one! 😂😂😂

[swldx]

BBC 0431 15 Jun 2023

12095Khz 0357 15 JUN 2023 - BBC (UNITED KINGDOM) in ENGLISH from TALATA VOLONONDRY. SINPO = 55545. English, dead carrier s/on @0357z then ID@0359z pips and newsday preview. @0401z World News anchored by Chris Berrow. People in North Korea have told the BBC food is so scarce their neighbours have starved to death. The government sealed its borders in 2020 because of Covid19, cutting off vital supplies. It has also tightened control over people's lives. At least 79 people have died and more than 100 have been rescued after their fishing vessel capsized off the coast of southern Greece. But survivors and Greek officials say that hundreds more migrants[sic] were on board. One of the three "godfathers of AI" has said it won't take over the world or permanently destroy jobs. Prof Yann LeCun said some experts' fears of AI posing a threat to humanity were "preposterously ridiculous". Australia's Parliament passed legislation to prevent Russia from building a new embassy near Parliament House on security grounds as tensions grow between Moscow and a major supporter of the Ukraine war effort. More than 100,000 people in India and Pakistan have been evacuated from the path of a fierce cyclone a day before its expected landfall. Forecasters have warned that Cyclone Biparjoy, which means "disaster" in Bengali, could destroy homes and crops. Authorities in Kenya have brought attempted suicide charges against 65 survivors of a Christian cult after they rejected food at a rescue center that was holding them. The survivors are reportedly followers of Pastor Paul Mackenzie. A former US Marine has been indicted by a grand jury over the death of a homeless black man on a New York subway train, according to reports. Daniel Penny, who is white, was filmed restraining Jordan Neely in a chokehold for about three minutes in May. @0406z "Newsday" begins. 250ft unterminated BoG antenna pointed E/W, Etón e1XM. 250kW, beamAz 315°, bearing 63°. Received at Plymouth, United States, 15359KM from transmitter at Talata Volonondry. Local time: 2257.

[dashofmonsters]

Deep in the Dark Pt. 6.1

Male Orc x Female Reader

You were not expecting his apartment to basically be a luxury condo but here you are, in the middle of his livingroom taking in the immaculate décor. You had in mind that he lives in a modest bachelor pad, but this is far far from what you thought of.

"Not what you were expecting?" Sloan asks, still pulling his shoes off at the door.

He had somehow convinced you to get ready for today's date at his place since it would be easier for the both of you to get ready at the same place instead of meeting up later or him coming back just to pick you up. You really didn't care about his reasons, you were more curious to see his place.

"Yeah, this is..." you don't want to be rude and ask how he affords this when you both work the same job, but damn you had to know.

"My friends from highschool had the same reaction when they first saw this place. To be honest I've only had this place for a couple years, before that I was living with my grandmother trying to save up to put a down payment on a house nearby... but things happened..." he cringes and sighs.

You really really want to know what happened, but you don't want pry seeing how uncomfortable he is.

"You don't have have to talk about it if you don't want to you. Anyways don't we need to get ready?" you try and change the subject but he walks off still looking stiff.

Worried that you might have messed up you start fishing in your purse for your phone to ask Liz for advise. Sloan comes back though with a book in his hand and a nervous smile on his face.

"It's nothing bad, just weird I guess...My friends had a good laugh at it when they saw the cover," he hands you the book cover down and looks away.

Just by looking at the back you can already tell that it's a romance novel and the summary is very well written, what's so bad about the cover? You flip it over and nearly drop it as you choke back your laughter.

There, dead center on the cover was a younger Sloan in a firefighter get up doing something that's supposed to be a sexy pose.

"Mmhmm, I see," you try really hard to keep your composure but it's so difficult.

He sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns back to you, "It's ok, you can laugh."

You shake your head and take a few deep breaths to pull yourself together, "I'm good, I'm good. Just...Wow. Who's idea was this?"

"Remember my friend who did the impromptu tattoos? Well she's now a best selling smut author and I'm one of her top models for the book covers," He admits.

"There are more books that you're on? Wait you still model?" you have so many questions about this side career of his.

"Oh gods what have I started," he laughs. "Yes there's more, but why don't we save that for later. Like you said, we should probably start getting ready." Sloan uses your earlier subject change against you with a much more relaxed smile.

"Oh alright, but I will see those covers one way or another. Even if I have to hunt down your friend...Honey Royal?" you look at the author name and Sloan snorts.

"She used a name generator, her real name is Rae. Come on, I promise you I'll show you everything that has my face on it. Even the calendars. Now let's start getting ready," he walks by you and pinches your ass making you yelp and laugh.

After you slap his ass back in retaliation you grab your stuff and follow him to his room. It's not as large as you'd thought it'd be given the size of his livingroom but it's still pretty spacious. His bed is quite large and well stocked with pillows of different sizes. You're nearly temped to just jump on it and test how comfy it is, but you'll wait till later tonight.

"You can set your bags on the bed. Shower first or do you need a minute to get your things out and organized?" Sloan asks, opening the door to a ridiculously luxurious looking bathroom.

You didn't even give yourself time to think before blurting out shower. Sloan laughs and starts to strip, you quickly shimmy out of your casual wear before following him into the bathroom while trying not to act excited.

The bathroom is impressively large but as Sloan said before the shower itself is a bit small, luckily the shower head is on the ceiling.

"It'll be a bit cramped if we shower together, do you want to go first or-" He was turning the water on when he pauses to look back at you. A playful and devious smile growing by the second.

"Or maybe you'd like to join me?"

You give him a smile and walk up to him, as you get closer he starts walking backwards into the shower until he's under the raining steamy water. When you enter he takes no time at all lifting you into his arms and pinning you against the wall.

His lips find your neck and you quickly wrap your legs around him to keep yourself up. Little by little he nibbles at you which elicits a symphony of moans and pleas from your lips.

After a few minutes he sets you down and kneels before you. Dripping and flustered with obvious need between his legs, Sloan takes a deep breath before grabbing a bottle of body wash. He jokingly shakes it in a lewd manner making you laugh, but when the white soap squirts out you nearly double over.

"You're ridiculous," you laugh, rolling your eyes.

"Only for you," he smiles as he lathers the soap between his hands.

You can't help the fluttering feelings when he talks like that and at this point you have to admit to yourself that you're clearly smitten. You never thought you'd be this comfortable with anyone, daring to open up this much so fast.

You're quickly pulled from thinking about how he makes you feel emotionally when he licks your clit as he soaps up your legs. Now all you can think about is how he makes you feel. You grip the rail behind you to balance yourself when he slips his tongue between your folds. The steam and heat from the shower start to make you a little dizzy mixed with the heat between your legs, so start bucking your hips hoping he'll get the memo. And he does.

Sloan parts his mouth from you and replaces it with his fingers. You nearly slip, unable to keep yourself steady with how deep he's driving himself into you. He holds you, kneading his fingers into your hip as he kisses you wherever he can. You cum hard and Sloan has to hold you as you come down.

"You're spoiling me too much," you laugh against him, still catching you breath.

"Maybe I like spoiling you," he kisses your forehead.

You try and reach down to return the favor but he stops you saying that the hot water will run out soon. You grimace but you go along, not a fan of cold showers.

He finishes up first, giving you a bit more room to rinse your hair out when he leaves. You're a bit uneasy with how giving he is towards you, feeling like there's such an imbalance. You know it's going to gnaw at you, but it feels like one of those things that can wait for another day...you don't want to ruin the mood for the first date.

When you finally get out you see that Sloan is finishing up drying his hair and smell that decadent cologne that you've come to love. You quickly grab a towel and start drying off, trying to distract yourself from staring at him though you admittedly still glance his way.

"Do you want help with your braid?" you ask him as he sets the hair blow dryer down.

He scratches the side of his head as he thinks about it, his smile twisting into something complicated. "As much as I'd like to say yes, I'm going to have to decline this time."

It was the first time he's said no to you about helping with his hair. The feeling from before came back and curdled in your stomach. You do your best not to show your feelings and start drying your hair off. Sloan continues to get ready, his hair still loose and wavy.

You finish with your hair and go back into his bedroom to start getting dressed. You debate over the two sets of lingerie you brought, one that you know he likes and the brand new one you just bought. When you turn to make sure he wasn't peeking at your spread you see that the bathroom door has been closed.

You do your best to ignore this too and set to work on getting dressed. It's almost as if you're on autopilot while you get ready, blankly putting yourself together while trying to keep it together.

You hear the door to the bathroom open and Sloan comes out with an immaculately complicated set of braids. His normal braid is hanging off his shoulder, strands of silver woven into it and a couple smaller braids on the side that lace into the larger one.

"Oh wow..." is all you could manage to say. You've seen orcs with complex braids but nothing this elaborate for a simple first date.

He smiles and quickly looks away. It makes you feel as if you said something wrong.

"I uh-" you both say and sort of clam up after that.

Well this is awkward...

Sloan tries to look anywhere but at you until he finally stomps your way, picking you up and kissing you breathless. He's relentless with his hands all over you and his mouth doing things to you that you would soon not forget. When he finally parts from you, his eyes are glazed over and his breath is ragged.

"Gods I want you now..." he nips at your neck and you shiver at the heated intimacy. He laughs and nips you a couple more times before setting you down, "But I'll behave and wait."

You have to take a few secretive deep breaths to calm yourself before stealing away to the bathroom to finish getting ready. It's difficult to focus but eventually you go through your terrible habit of focusing on focusing enough to actually finish getting ready.

When you leave the bathroom you look around the room for Sloan but he's nowhere to be seen. You take a few steps out and hear the faint sound of jazz. Walking further out into the livingroom you see him slipping into a well tailored jacket that goes well with the silver in his braid. He turns around and gives a little jump, his eyes all over you as his smile widens.

"However did I get so lucky?" he saunters up to you, his hands sliding onto your hips as he kisses your cheek. "You look absolutely lovely my angel."

"And you look very very handsome," you reach up and kiss him back.

Sloan gives you a soft sweet look that stirs your heart. You can't recall a time that anyone ever looked at you with this much adoration.

"If we stand here and look at each other like this much longer I don't think we're going to be leaving the apartment," he laughs. "I know I said I wanted to start with the walk around the park but would you mind if we hit the café first, I'm a bit hungry and in need of caffeine."

Coffee and breakfast sounds good right now, especially since you've skipped out on both this morning. "Sounds like a plan," you smile.

"Awesome...Oh and before I forget," Sloan starts to walk away beckoning you to follow. He takes you into an office with some interesting things laid out on his desk. You look at the lay out and feel the heat in your cheeks rise. Toys, lots and lots of toys...

"Don't think I forgot about the bet my angel," he purrs into your ear.

To be honest you sort of did forget, but this was way beyond what you thought he'd bring into the relationship this early on. Everything he's got on the desk gives you control, rope, a remote controlled cock ring, handcuffs, a strap-on, and somethings you've never seen before.

"If you need sometime to think about what you want to pick out, we have all day," he places a hand on your hip and nudges up next to you. "I'll be up for whatever you choose."

You look around but you can't help but to keep going back to the cock ring. Having that sort of control would be interesting and it would be a nice experiment into getting out of what you've thought sex should be.

"I think I'll go with this," you tell him, picking it up with a smile.

"If that's what you want," he replies, the lilt in his voice suggesting something more.

You're not sure what he's trying to tease out of you but you're feeling a bit bold what with him being this forward this early on.

"All day, I want you to wear it all day," you stretch out the ring and watch as his mouth hangs open in shock.

It takes him a second longer to process what you've just said but when he comes to he's shoving everything off his desk and thrusting you up on. Before you knew it he's kissing you all over and unzipping his pants.

Oh gods what have I started!

His tongue licks the rim of your ear, hot breath making you dizzy and unable to concentrate. Sloan unleashes his harden dick from his pants, already dripping with precum.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me angel," his voice is gravelly and low. "I have to keep reminding myself to behave around you, not let how I really feel about you show through all the time or else I might scare you away but you certainly don't make it easy..."

His hand slides under and up your dress but you stop him by crossing your legs. He grumbles then hisses when you slide the ring over his cock. "Show me how you really feel about me after you've worn this all day long," you slip off the desk and pinch his butt while slipping passed him.

You make your way back to the bathroom to straighten up the mess he made of you. Your lipstick is smeared and your earrings are about to fall out and your hair is a disaster. Sloan hasn't made any attempts in coming after you, a sign that he's probably trying to go soft so he can tuck his cock back in. You try not to pay that whole scenario further mind, afraid that you'll want to march back in there and see how he's doing.

After cleaning yourself up you go back into the livingroom and see a very composed Sloan ready to leave.

"Shall we?" he holds out his hand and you go up to take it. As you reach out you see a small key fob with controls on it. You quickly grab it and ignore the smug look rising on his face.

~~~~~

It's a short drive to the café which you're quite thankful for. You hadn't realized how hungry you were until you got into the car. Sloan mentions some good recommendations and his favorite blend, all of which sounds amazing.

The café itself is rustic and calm, sort of out of place is the downtown setting but very welcoming. The smell of cinnamon and coffee fills the air and it fits so well with the décor. Walking up to the counter you notice the beautiful yet faded piano in the corner. A couple walks passed it and the one of the girls giggles as she presses the keys.

Sloan and you order your coffee and breakfast, the orc barista giving him a once over and then nodding at you as if she knows something you don't.

"I'll bring your order over once it's ready, sit wherever you like," she smiles at the both of you.

He escorts you over to a table near the piano and ever the gentleman, pulls out the seat for you.

"Why thank you sir," you tease as he takes his seat.

He rolls his eyes and starts asking you about what sort of music you like listening to. For the next several minutes the both of you go back and forth about your preferences and mutual distaste for certain overplayed and overhyped songs.

The barista comes by with your coffees saying that the breakfast will be just a tad bit longer. You take a sip of the brew and it's absolutely wonderful. It's rich and smooth and not as bitter as the stuff you get in the breakroom.

"How is it?" Sloan asks.

"Probably the best damn coffee I've ever had," you smile over your cup.

"That good huh?" he laughs then takes a sip of his while looking over at the piano.

"Do you play?" you ask.

"Only when I'm here and have nothing better to do all day. I really wanted one in my apartment but getting one up that high would be a nightmare and I'm not about to settle for a keyboard," he pauses and takes another sip. "Why? Do you want to hear me play?"

You try not to show your curiosity but you fail with your twisted smile and nod your head. Sloan laughs but gets up anyways to go sit at the piano. A couple people turn to look his way as if they've been waiting to hear him play since he's arrived.

"Got any requests angel?" he asks, stretching out his fingers and wiggling them over the keys. Oddly enough you decide on Earth Angel since you really couldn't think of anything off the top of your head. He nods and starts up a jazzy tune that starts to transition into the song. You can't help but to stare at him like a love stricken fool and at this point you couldn't even bring yourself to give a damn about it.

Halfway into the song the barista comes back around with the breakfast and grins at you, "He's rather smitten with you isn't he? I've never seen him go above and beyond with his braids. He must be really serious about you."

It takes you a second to try and understand what she's getting at but something is still going over your head.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, completely unaware.

"It's all in the braids. Different styles and the complexity have different meanings. His says...well, I really shouldn't say." She looks at him and back to you with a cat like grin.

Before you can ask more about the braids a couple walks in and she rushes back to the counter. You try to enjoy the rest of the song that Sloan is playing but the whole comment that the barista threw at you has you a bit off.

Sloan finishes playing and his eyes light up when he sees the breakfast at table.

"So how was it?" he asks, slipping back into his seat and taking a sip of his coffee.

"How was what? Oh right yeah you're playing sorry lost in thought. It was amazing, I really had no idea you could play." you try and push those earlier thoughts to the back of your head.

Just going to start a long list of things we'll get to another time, don't want to ruin the date!

"I wanted to be a pianist like my grandad was but I don't have the talent that he possessed. He could play all night long if it weren't for my nana coming into the parlor to drag him to bed," he laughs but you can tell there's something bothering him.

There's an odd bit of silence then which he quickly dismisses by clearing his throat and talking about breakfast. You play along, not wanting to dive into whatever that was.

The food is amazing, it's filling but not really heavy. Sloan does his best not to scarf down his and you know for sure he's trying since he hasn't eaten since yesterday. When you finally finish up you walk back to his car to drop off the pastries you ordered earlier.

Sloan looks down at his watch and then to his phone, "How are you feeling? Not too full?"

"No, I'm fine. Is there something that we're late for?" you ask, remembering his itinerary.

"Actually we're making great time. If we walk through the park we'll make it to the outdoor theatre by the time the first show starts," he grins, taking your hand in his.

The park he walks you to is pretty large and it's more of a series of smaller parks that make up one large one. The first one is filled with flowers and a reflection pond. There's old fashion lamps that line the walkways and you almost wish you could come back at night to see them lit up.

The second park is filled with art installments that were donated to the city by various artists. You and Sloan took pictures together next to your favorite ones and if you were lucky another couple would come by and offer to help take the pictures.

The third park is your favorite by far. It's filled with stalls and smells like spices and pine. Sloan takes you to a couple of his favorites that sell pickled vegetables, homemade breads, and soaps. The little old ladies at some of the stalls recognize him immediately and start to tease him and ask questions about you. He looks genuinely flustered and you can't help but to think how cute he is.

After a while the both of you have visited every stall and decide to head to the fourth park. There's a small band playing music in the middle with a few couples gathered around.

"I think they're doing their free dance lessons today, wanna try?" he asks.

You've always wanted to try and learn how to dance, even just as a hobby but you remember Marcus making fun of you for trying. You mentally slap yourself for thinking about him while you're with Sloan.

"Only if you want to and only if you don't mind my two left feet," you quip.

"Then with my poor sense of timing, our instructor will be in for one hell of a class," Sloan laughs.

You join in on the class and even though both of you are equally terrible you still have fun. The instructor stops you several times, you for your feet position and Sloan for his posture. After a hour most the couples have gone but you two stay behind for one last song with an almost tango under your belt.

The instructor looks somewhat pleased with the progress you both made considering how bad you both are and offers their card.

"I can't believe that after one whole damn hour I can barely dance the tango," Sloan groans as he plops on the bench.

You take a seat next to him and peel off your shoes to let your feet breathe real quick. "I told you I have two left feet, though I must say even after all that I had fun...I'm still having fun."

Sloan snuggles up to you and holds you close, not caring about the onlookers. "I'm glad. How are your feet? They must hurt like hell after going like that for so long."

"Just overheating and a bit of cramping in the heel but nothing too serious. I'll be ready to go in a few minutes," you stretch out your feet and wince at the cramp beginning in your toes.

"Oh no," you cringe. "Charley horse."

It hurts like hell and it just keeps getting worse. It's stiffening and feels like it just wants to be pulled right out. Sloan kneels down off the bench and takes the foot that you've been trying to stretch out.

"Where is it?" he asks.

"Toes, all of them," you have to hold in the need to scream when he starts working the cramps out of your toes. After a few minutes and a few odd looks from strangers, the cramping is finally gone.

"Better?" he brushes himself off and gets back on the bench.

"Yeah, thanks...and sorry..."you feel a tad bit embarrassed that he had to get down to rub your foot and in a public park of all places.

"No need to be sorry, these things happen." he shrugs off your apology and looks at the time.

"If we leave now we can make the first show. If we leave in thirty minutes we can make the second one. Your choice, I just want you to be comfortable," he kisses your forehead and nudges his head against yours.

You really want to see the first show, Sloan had hyped it up for you a while back. It's a community theatre and the local choir putting on a musical based on one of your favorite books. He found out about it from an old friend who's in the theatre so you know he probably wants to see it too.

You quickly rummage through your purse for Band-Aids and a pain killer. "Give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready to go."

You apply the Band-Aids to the areas you feel like blisters will start forming and take the medicine to ease your still aching feet. Slipping your shoes back on and taking a quick test stand you feel happy with yourself for not wobbling even once.

As you place the trash back in your purse since there's no garbage can around, you feel a familiar key fob you almost forgot about.

Not yet...

After a couple minutes of stretching Sloan and you finally make it to the last park where they've just started to file people into the outdoor theatre. Sloan rented a couple lawn chairs and bought a couple drinks at the concession stand. Lucky for the both of you his friend had the foresight to reserve a good spot on the grass for them by standing on it.

"Over here!" he yells at the both of you.

A tall slender elf with bright red hair waves the both of you his way. He's in all black so he's most likely a stagehand or a technician.

"Rynan long time no see," Sloan reaches out his arm and the elf extends his, both grabbing each other's arm.

"Truly, and who's your..." Rynan pauses looking at you then Sloan the you again. "Friend?"

You suddenly got the same feeling you had at the café when the barista was talking about the braids. Just what the hell do they imply?

Sloan introduces you but never corrects the friend attached to it. Rynan starts talking it up with Sloan and you and bringing up some rather embarrassing school mishaps they got involved with. After a few minutes a few other guys show up and greet Sloan and you. Sloan talks to his old friends but Rynan seems to back a bit away a towards you.

"So how long have you two known each other and how did you meet?" he asks.

"For a couple months, I just started working at the resort." you tell him, feeling the weight of his question.

His brow hikes up and he looks back towards Sloan then you. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but are you two just you know friends with benefits or something more? It's just, yes I know it's a strange question but I've never seen him this serious about someone he's know for such a short amount of time and I just don't want to see him hurt over something one sided and-"

"We're not friends with benefits I can assure you that. As far as what we are, I can't say for sure just yet since we literally just started dating. We're trying to not rush things, that's something we both agreed on," you interrupt Rynan's rant, hoping that you can put him at ease.

He sighs and shrugs and for a moment you think he's going to walk off but he's still got more to say. "Listen I know I'm being nosey and that it's none of my business but Sloan is my friend. I just, he's been through a lot and I don't think he can take a heart break right now."

"I guess the same could be said for me," you admit and watch as Rynan looks at you with confusion.

"Listen I get it, Sloan is your friend and you don't want to see him hurt. But when you come at me like you have been without knowing or even trying to know anything about me then it's like you've already decided I'm not worth it," you snap at him.

This wasn't how you pictured your first meeting with his friends to go. You imagined them a lot more relaxed and less accusing than this.

Rynan opens his mouth to say something then quickly closes it as if he's realizing how careful he needs to be.

"I guess I did jump the gun there didn't I? It's just the last girl he tried to date was a total gold digger and he has a terrible tendency to-"

"Be blinded by love? Got those rose tinted glasses on?" you smile and shrug

"Exactly!" Rynan rolls his eyes back with his head.

"It can be a bit much to be honest. I'm still not sure if he's just insecure or if he's just like that," you almost bite your words but it felt good to get it out.

"Honestly I think it's a bit of both. Dude really didn't start dating till after college so he probably feel like he's lacking in some areas so he has to make it up by being over the top romantic." Rynan admits, his mood towards you rapidly changing.

"But if it ever gets to be too overwhelming you can say that you'll give me a call and ask for full details about summer camp freshman year, that'll get him to clam up," Rynan pulls out a small notebook and writes his number on it.

Sloan comes back just as he's handing it over and gives you both a curious look.

"She's a good girl, don't piss her off or I'll be the first to know," Rynan slaps him on the shoulder and quickly disappears into the growing crowd.

"What was that about?" Sloan asks you.

"I don't know but freshman summer camp must have been pretty bad," you test the waters and Sloan gives you a very very nervous look.

"He didn't say anything but apparently if you upset me I can call and ask," you shrug with a grin.

Sloan stands with his mouth agape for a few moments then shakes his head as the sound of the crowd dies down and everyone settles in. He sets up the chairs and the both of you settle in for the show.

The opening is a bit corny but you forgive it by how amazing the costumes are. You nearly bark out in laughter after the first musical number, you never expected the march out of the main character's ex lover to be so hilarious but it works. Further into the production and it starts to get chilly. You had planned for this so you start to pull your shawl out of your purse but before you can get it all the way out, Sloan is draping his jacket over your shoulders.

"How are you enjoying the show?" he whispers to you then kisses you ear.

You skootch closer to him in your chair and kiss his cheek, "I'm loving it, thank you."

Sloan does the old fashion stretch-and-yawn-arm-of-the-shoulder bit and you would have held in the laugh but he had to give you that ridiculous dapper smile and wiggle his brows. You try so hard to stifle the giggles but Sloan moves your hand away from your mouth and kisses you as if he's been waiting years to do so.

It takes you back a bit, but you enjoy the passion of his kiss that is till you remember you're in a public setting. You try and tap out but he's not ready to come up for air. With no other choice you decide to reach into your purse and get his attention.

With one quick flip you switch the on button on the key fob and Sloan quickly jolts back too. You watch as he shifts in his seat, his brows furrowing as he's fighting not to show how much he's enjoying what your just started.

"I was wondering when you were going to use that," he groans, crossing his legs to hide his growing bulge.

You consider yourself lucky that no ones is nearby to hear or see what's going on. If anyone were to look back at the both of you they'd just see someone looking through their purse and the other uncomfortable and ready to go home.

You smirk at him and turn the vibrations up and then off, his face distorting in disappointment as if he was expecting more.

"Not yet. Not here," you smile.

After that Sloan get's impatient. He doesn't fully show it but you can tell that he's ready to move on from this part of the date. The show gets close to the end and the villain is finally revealed. Not ever having read the book himself Sloan seems genuinely shocked and offended that the ex's late wife is still alive and she's the one behind the curse.

You knew you would cry at the end, it was sad but happy ending with everything wrapped up and the characters' view of their hometown changed forever. Sloan tried not to show it but you could tell that he wasn't ready for that ending.

"Not what you were expecting?" you ask him.

He scratches the corners of his eyes as if he's fighting some annoying pollen allergy. "Regina did not deserve that much hate, especially when William was the one at the center of all the trouble. The curse was a bit much but she was doing it so no one else would get hurt by him!"

Sloan goes on and on about the ending until the actor who played William walks up to the both of you.

"Speak of the damn devil." Sloan laughs as he gets out of his chair.

The actor throws himself at Sloan giving him a big ol' hug.

"It's good to see you my friend, you hardly come around the theatre these days," he slaps Sloan on the arm and then looks over at you then Sloan then you again. He whispers something to Sloan and gives a full hardy laugh.

"George Oliver, double name, hate it, live with it, deal with it, go to bed with it. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he stretches his hand out to you and you shake it.

You introduce yourself to Sloan's friend and find it hard that this guy played a terrible evil character who broke the hearts of so many women of a small town. He's giddy and over the top, more suited to play a character like Cody, the happy son of the mayor let's solve this curse kind of guy.

"I see you're back at it with playing the bad guy, I thought you were tired of being evil," Sloan asks George.

"Yes but I'm so good at it. What can I say, I love being hated and everyone loves to hate the characters I play. It's a win-win for me," he smiles.

You ask George a bit about his acting and Sloan inserts some stories from highschool here and there, adding to a fond memory of the two being a couple of dumb ass teens doing stupid stuff in theatre.

"I shan't keep you much longer, mostly because Rynan will rear his ugly head any minute now asking where William is," George sighs.

"You have my condolences..."Sloan lowers his head and puts his hand together as if to pray.

The two playfully banter and jest about Rynan until he actually appears and drags George away.

"He seems nice," you smile.

"He's a fun guy, and one that's gotten my ass out of trouble just as much as he's gotten it in it." he shrugs then stretches. "Hungry yet?"

To be honest you've been super hungry for most the day. The little snacks here and there helped but you needed an actual mean.

"Yes, and you?" you try not to see to desperate to leave and go eat, but the hunger zombie that is your brain wants food.

"Staaaaaaarved," he grumbles.

Sloan and you take the lawn chairs back to the front and he calls for a cab since his car is parked on the other side of the park and it's a bit of a walk.

After a short drive and Sloan pointing out a few of his favorite food trucks you reach Gianna's. You had no idea what to expect but it certainly wasn't this. Liz had played up the place to be super high end but that was an understatement. It's clearly reservation only and it seems that some of the staff know who Sloan is.

You start to feel a bit nervous being at a place this nice but you try your best to hide it. Sloan asked for a place that is secluded and very much out of the way which helps calm you down a tad. He orders a bottle of wine as the both of you settle into the booth, the waiter eyeing you with disparaging curiosity.

"The food here is amazing, I hope you like it," he smiles, reaching his hand across the table and taking yours.

"I'm sure I will," you smile, still hoping that he can't see how nerve wrecked you really are.

After a few minutes the waiter comes back with the wine and menus. Sloan goes ahead and orders a few appetizers and the waiter is all smiles but when you try and ask about something they completely ignore you and leave. Not wanting to make a scene you just take a deep breath and move on.

"I must say I thought you up and disappeared with how absent you've been," a tall and well dressed tiefling rounds the corner, crossing his arms as he gives Sloan a devilish grin.

"Hello Seth," he gives the man a flat smile.

"And I see you've brought a-" Seth pauses and looks at you and then at Sloan.

Here we go again, you think as you sip on your wine.

"Lover?" he asks with a shrug.

You nearly choke at his guess but it's a lot better than 'friend'.

Sloan turns to face him, his expression unreadable, "Yes and no, but that's neither here nor there. Is there something you wanted Seth? As you can see I'm-"

"No no, I just wanted to see how an old friend of a friend is doing. I know there's some hard feelings there but I hope that won't continue to keep you away from my family's establishment..." he pauses then turns to leave... "After all where would any of this be without that generous donation."

Sloan attempts to hide his disgust until he leaves then rakes his fingers over his face with a grunt.

"I'm not even going to ask what any of that was about," you hold up a hand while sipping on some more wine to get the sour taste that experience left you with. He takes a few deep breaths and you can see that he's having a hard time composing himself.

Not knowing what else to do, you reach in your bag and press the little button on the fob. Sloan jolts and nearly bangs a knee against the table.

"What are you doing," he whispers, leaning over the table.

You smile and take a sip of wine, "helping."

Sloan settles back down, less upset and more distressed with what's going on in his pants. You slide your foot up his leg, happy that the table cloth hides any indecent behavior. He tenses up and shifts a bit in the booth, then loosens up after you pet his leg a bit more.

"I hope you know what you've just started," Sloan leans onto his hands, his eyes focused on you in a way that makes you feel completely naked.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," you roll your eyes and act like you're completely enamored by the paintings on the wall.

"That's fine, I'll just have to explain it to you later...In the car, then on my couch, on the kitchen counter, possibly on the dryer, and then on my bed," he smirks.

You're used to his teasing but this is different. Is it because this is your first date or perhaps it's because you're now officially dating? You're not quite sure. Legs shift under the table and now he's lightly petting your leg with his.

"Hey, look at me..." he asks, his voice is soft and sweet.

You turn back around and there's an air of concern around him. He looks like he's about to say something but right as he does the waiter comes back around with a full tray of appetizers.

His face looks a bit nerve wrecked for some reason, his smile twisted as he looks back at you.

"Are we ready to order or do you need some more time?" he asks.

You try again to ask about the dish from before and they quickly answer without hesitation. You decide to order it and Sloan orders something you've never heard of nor want to attempt to pronounce at the moment.

"Very good, we'll get those out to you a little after you've finished your appetizers. Any desserts?" he looks over at you but Sloan tells him to make it the chef's choice.

The waiter scurries off then and to your surprise Sloan's look of disgust is back on. He eyes the entire establishment as if he's looking for something or someone, the food on the table getting cold.

"Uh Sloan is something-" you stop midsentence feeling as if getting his attention this way wouldn't work.

You reach into your purse and turn off the cock ring and instead of the jolt from earlier, Sloan turns around and with this expression that you've never seen on him before.

"I uh..." he starts before barring his face in his hands.

There's several moments of silence and it feels so heavy that you can hardly breathe.

Did I do something wrong? Should I...Should I go? He's not saying anything, he won't even look at me...What did I do wrong?

Your chest feels tight and your stomach feels queasy and before you can say anything your standing and walking briskly towards the bathroom leaving Sloan at the booth.

The bathroom is cool and quiet, leaving you blissfully alone to deal with your nausea. After a few minutes and a quick rinse you feel somewhat better. You decide that anxiety and alcohol should never be in the same room again after that.

That being said though, you're not too thrilled about going back to the booth. You have a million questions for Sloan but you're not sure if or when you should ask.

Should I really try dating someone who I can't even talk to? I feel...I feel like this is Marcus all over again...

And there it is, your biggest fear playing out again. You made yourself small in that moment. You try looking in the mirror, hoping to see what Sloan sees in you. Your makeup is smeared, your hair is a mess, and your eyes are a bit puffy from crying in the stall.

There's nothing loveable about this...

One of the wait staff walks in and makes a sound of relief.

"Ma'am, Mr. Sloan asked me to come see if you were alright," her voice is soft and sincere.

You don't know what to say, right now you just want to run out the building with inhuman speed but that won't solve anything.

She tip toes a bit closer and you hear a gasp. You finally look up and you feel relieved when you recognize the person in front of you.

"Carrie?" you sniffle. She was an old coworker from when you both were waitresses at a diner near your home.

"You're a mess," she shakes her head.

You laugh at her bluntness, something that you'd admired about her.

"I feel like a mess," you say.

"Care to talk about it or do you want me to help you with all this..."she circles her finger in the air, pointing at your messed up hair and makeup.

"Maybe a bit of both," you smile weakly.

Carrie leaves and comes back with her purse and helps fix your hair and makeup while listening to your concerns. You hated feeling like you couldn't talk to Sloan and you hate how you feel like there's this weird wall between you. He's got so much history and you don't know when or if you should ask him about it since you just started dating. It feels so overwhelming.

"So he's basically info dumping his life on you without realizing what he's doing and it's stressing you out?" she points.

You hadn't even thought about it that way but it's more or less true. Both you and Rynan did say that Sloan has those rose tented glasses.

"This is a disaster," you grumble, wiping off the eye makeup.

"It is, but are you going to let it keep being a disaster is the question?" she asks.

You grumble again and look back into the mirror. Your face is cleaned up and your hair is fixed, your eyes are still a bit puffy but they'll smooth out soon. You take a deep breath and force back anymore tears.

Tonight has had its good points, its weird points, and now its bad points. And now you're looking down on yourself in a bathroom while an old friend is trying to console you.

Carrie gives you a few more words of wisdom and her phone number to text if things go south again. She leaves you to go back to work but suddenly your slapped with confusion.

How did Sloan know I was in here?

You shake your head and take a few more deep breaths trying to muster up the courage to go back out there. It takes a few minutes to boost yourself up, that and the girls who walk in...After all nothing could be more embarrassing in this moment than giving yourself a pep talk in the women's restroom.

Walking back to the booth you do your best to look straight forward and not to think about anything else but just getting there.

One thing at a time...

Sloan is sitting there and for a split second he looks your way then back at the table, his eyes darting around. You stand next to him and when he looks up you loose all restraint and grab his face and kiss him long and hard.

"I uh...wow," Sloan sighs, his eyes blinking in disbelief.

"Stop going dark on me and start talking to me, it's messing with my head," you tell him, inspired by Carrie's bluntness.

He starts to pout so you pinch him, "Listen I know you wanted this date to be perfect but nothing in life is. Que será, será. I've had an amazing time so far and yeah some of it's been weird and this just threw a wrench into it but are we going to let it ruin the evening?"

"You're just too good to be true," he smiles as he nudges his face in your hands.

"Are we going to quote from oldies now?" you laugh, taking your hands back so you can sit back down.

Sloan straightens up with a grin, "You started it."

After that little snafu, the date goes back to normal. Sloan orders more food, even more hungry after being emotionally distressed. He opens up a bit more to which you're delighted. He explains that he was hesitant to talk more about himself since in the past the people he dated didn't really seem to care.

"I know you're nothing like them and it pains me that I'm being this guarded around you. I don't want you to find out that the real me is just this pile of garbage that only looks nice because it's been dipped in gold," he grumbles.

You pet his leg under the table and he lets out a long sigh.

"But I guess that's not fair to you. I might think of myself as garbage but when you said that I'm nice and funny and all that I felt that if I opened up anymore you'd find stuff about me that you wouldn't like," he admits.

"Oh but I already do have stuff about you that I don't like you dirty blanket thief," you smile.

Sloan softens up at that, "I've asked you to let go of some of your baggage, I guess it's only fair that I dump some of mine."

You reach across the table and take his hands, "With time and trust."

He nods his head and picks you hands up and kisses the tips of your fingers.

The waiter from before comes back with Carrie in tow. They set down a lot more food than you think you can handle but Sloan looks like he can't wait for them to just leave so he can start shoveling it into his mouth.

The food is amazing and despite your emotional hunger you're only able to pick at some of the appetizers or else you won't be able to eat the entrée you ordered. Sloan however has nearly cleared the table.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how much food you can put away," you laugh.

He pets your leg under the table, "Does my hunger impress you that much?"

You roll your eyes and give him a light punt back.

Dinner comes and goes and you're happily stuffed by the time you're out. Sloan hails a taxi that takes the both of you back to his car. He still wants to take you to the movies and bakery but you both agree after looking at the shows that there's nothing good out.

"I should have checked before putting that on our schedule," he laughs.

You shrug, "Is there anything else you want to do?"

"Aside from the obvious?" he gives you a devilish grin.

"And what's that?" you ask.

He leans down and licks your ear, "Ravish you till you can think of nothing else but me. Have you scream out my name until you've forgotten your own. Bring you endless pleasure till you beg for mercy. I want you to scar my back with your nails, I want your voice to be the only thing I can hear, I want to taste you because I crave you."

You feel your heart beating a mile a minute and your cheeks growing oh so hot.

Proud of himself, Sloan kisses your cheek and leans back into his seat.

"So aside from the obvious, I'll have to think about it," he brings out his phone and starts to scroll looking for something to fill in the gap.

You fidget in the car seat, very hot and bothered and all too frisky. Reaching into your purse you turn on the key fob again and hear Sloan jump.

In no time at all Sloan is leaning over again and kissing you with no regard to the fact that you're still in a public parking lot. His hands start to trail up your dress but you cross your legs.

"Not here," you try and catch your breath but he keeps at.

"Now, I want you now..." he nips your neck and you make a sound that you didn't think you could.

"Dammit! Ok..." He quickly calms himself and starts out of the lot. You have no idea where he's planning on taking you but you're excited. He starts driving around then stops right outside a small strip center.

"What is-"

"Come on, I'll explain later," he's already out of the car and opening your door.

He leads you to a door that's spot has no signs. He unlocks it and turns the alarm off and the lights on. It's a small studio with bare walls and some furniture.

As you look around a bit more you hear Sloan lock the door behind him.

"Will this work?" he asks, pulling his jacket off and tossing it to the side.

"As long as you tell me about this place afterwards," you smile.

He pulls you up against him and kisses you with so much hunger you can hardly stand it. Your hands start to work at unbuttoning his shirt and you feel his reach down and start to tug at your panties.

After tugging and pulling at each other's clothes, Sloan pushes you down on one of the couches and puts his face between your legs. He growls against your pussy and tugs the lingerie aside with his teeth. You grab the back of his head and guide him further in, needing this sweet release.

He's ruthless as he brings you over the edge, he growls and grunts against you and the vibrations are absolutely delicious. When you finally come he doesn't stop, he keeps going and you nearly lose it being overstimulated. When he's finally done he stands and unzips his pants, releasing his hardened cock.

You sit up with what little strength you have and he brings his cock close to your face, but you have other ideas.

"Pick me up," you smile.

Sloan pulls you up and into his arms and kisses your neck, "Are you sure?" His voice is husky and full of need and yet he's still holding back.

"I want you to fuck me, right here, right now. Prove to me how bad you are," you hiss as you pull on his braid enough to elicit that growling you've grown to love.

There's no more words after that, only Sloan lowering you carefully on his cock before he presses you against the wall. At first he takes his time with you, slowly feeling your tightness around him. He hits all the right places and you have to do everything in your power not to scream out, but it becomes harder and harder when he speeds up.

His hot breath tickles your ear, sending shivers down your body as he keeps thrusting into you. You're a mess and you absolutely love it. He bites down against your neck making you cry out in surprise and tighten even more around his cock.

Sloan pulls you off of him as quickly as possible and cums long and hard all over you. He growls as he watches his cum drip along your lingerie, proud of his work. Your legs feel like pudding when he sets you back down on the couch.

"That was...amazing," you're still catching your breath as you lay against the couch.

Sloan hovers over you and his eyes burn into you, hot and heavy. There's something wild in the way that he's looking at, as if he's lost all sense of reality but you can't help but to enjoy being caught in it. He sits down beside you then starts to crawl over you, pinning you to the couch, "If you think we're done here, you my angel are sorely mistaken. You've given me full on permission to misbehave and trust and believe by tomorrow morning you'll know why I'm a bad boy."

You smile and pull yourself up to kiss him, "I better not be able to walk in the morning."

"I promise, but for now coffee and dessert. We're going to need energy for the things we'll be doing tonight," he kisses your forehead and gets up.

For the next few minutes the both of you clean up and get dressed, Sloan practically bouncing out of his skin to leave and get to the next place.

After locking up and leaving Sloan takes you to the late night bakery well known for its strong brew and donuts. You're both a little overzealous, ordering whatever sounds or looks good and leaving with practically a pot of coffee to go.

When you arrive back at Sloan's apartment with bags of goodies and foods, he makes the 'one trip only' move and grabs everything but your purse. You have to help him open the door and he nearly drops everything coming in but he makes a graceful rebound as he trips into the kitchen with all the goods.

Once everything is put up, you and Sloan sit down on his rather large and ridiculously comfortable couch with your coffees and some pastries. He takes a sip of his and sets it down on the table, "Now then my angel, are you ready?"

<Previous Pt. 5 Next 6.2 Final>

[kaiqarker]

the watchtower’s lighthouse | stan vogel

pairing: stan vogel x reader

warnings: smut, swearing

summary: months after a disasterous first date with stan vogel, your paths cross once more when you’re lost within the depths of kern canyon national park during a thunderstorm and stan happens to have inherited a shift patrolling from the watchtower.

a/n: back from the dead because of this man. hope y’all enjoy :)

THE SKY EMULATED STAN VOGEL'S morals, consisting of gray unpredictability. If he was within the familiar walls of his assigned cabin, located along the grounds of Kern Canyon National Park, it would be an indication he wouldn't have to do much patrolling. Campers usually stayed put if there was rainfall, sticking to their own site and not off doing God knows what to the land Stan takes pride in preserving. Cascading a thick husk of superiority and knowledge was his favorite thing about the job, which is why he was disappointed he was stuck maintaining the watchtower for tonight.

The surveillance for the watchtower was run by a tight knit schedule of volunteers and the occasional firefighter that needed a change of scenery for a couple days. Needless to say with all the strange occurrences and sightings, there have been less and less people willing to take on the task. And now the duty was bestowed upon the park ranger— at least for tonight. He swore to himself that at sunrise he would be out of there and back to being the persistent, vexing gum stuck to the bottom of everyone's shoe.

Stan now sat in a wobbly chair, feet propped up on the desk and his trusty binoculars in hand. His surroundings were darkening, quicker than they would at his cabin because of the parade of trees towering over the area. He could mostly only see shadows and the outlines of the forest. His paranoia kept him on the lookout, knowing all too well what kind of perilous entities the park harbored, dark secrets he was trusted in keeping.

It was why his body jolted and he nearly fell out of his seat at a sign of movement. His hands itched to drop the binoculars and reunite with the shotgun propped up in the corner. His burst of anxiety was halted, however, once the lenses revealed a person. A wandering, soaked person clearly becoming victim to the thunderstorm that had been periodically easing and worsening for the past two hours.

Stan stood, walking over to the window with his binoculars hanging from the strap around his neck. He easily pried it open and stuck out his head. The drizzle of rain didn't reach him because of the roof stretching out along the perimeter of the watchtower, but he still felt the dip in the temperature. He estimated that it had dropped at least fifteen degrees since the start of the storm, the disappearance of the sun only escalating the drafty change.

He was about to shout down at what is most certainly a woman who had strayed too far from her campsite but then she twisted around, finally noticing the light emitting from up above. Recognization crumbles both of their attentive expressions. She becomes more than a drenched, carmine tank top, huddled body, and ropes of wet hair. He transforms into the exact opposite of a saving grace when his beige uniform and ironically angelic face are perceived.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Stalking your ex, eh?" Stan called down to her. The pattern of swift and drawned out words, swirled into a provoking and often mocking Australian accent, reached her ears over the light patter of rainfall.

She sighed, dramatically enough for Stan to see the rise and fall of her diaphragm. She considered turning around and braving the unknown of the wilderness again. If it wasn't for her sore feet and her prediction that she would develop some sort of hyperthermia if she stayed out in the cold, then she would've already been on her way.

"We went out on one date. You don't count as an ex," she clarified, craning her neck up at him. His smirk from knowing she was in a miserable condition and that he was the only one that could do anything about it ignited the first sense of heat she had felt in awhile. Her fists clenched against her crossed arms. "And you're the one with the pervy binoculars. On the prowel for half-naked campers, are you?"

He scoffed, winding his head to the side for a moment. "Enough with the bullshit. Are you coming up or not?"

In any other situation, he probably would've dragged their reunion out, teased her for being so helpless and naive. But she was shivering and looked so small curling into herself; it was a sight that played his heartstrings like a mystical harp. Even after a date gone wrong and the resentment that followed, he couldn't bare to see her like this.

She, on the other hand, still clung to some hesitation. Cozying up in a small, confined space with Stan where there were no other people around to ground her into the realms of sanity wasn't a compelling option. The both of them simply didn't get along. The nightmare of their date was very vivid in her mind, too, and she didn't want tonight to be a repeat of that.

Almost like nature could sense her doubts, thunder crackled and reverberated around the forest. Lightning flashed, incandescent and forbiding. The rain intensified, hitting her bare skin with a harsh force. Muddy shoes stumble forward a few steps but still don't gravitate towards the ladder.

"Better move your ass, sweetheart! Unless you'd prefer to get struck by lightning? Not to mention all the dangerous things lurking around that you haven't the slightest idea about."

Undeniable complacency was weaved into his taunt. However, it did get her moving. If she would've bothered to look up or if there wasn't such vast distance between them from their differing heights, she might've seen the concern nestled into glimmering, cobalt eyes.

Suffering through a climb where her wobbly legs and white knuckles were put the use, she eventually made it to top. Stan already had the latch swung open, bent down in the center of the room and waiting for her with an outstretched arm. Reluctantly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her inside the watchtower.

"Crickey, you're freezing," he murmured. There was a softness to his features and the low timber of his voice. He'd even began rubbing over her fingers with his own, attempting to summon some warmth back into him, before he realized what he was doing and backed away.

"That's what happens when you get lost and separated from your friends and then get caught up in a storm," she summed up, monotonous.

"Your friends are idiots," Stan muttered.

She was about to deter the insults back his way until she suddenly felt a subtle weight on her shoulders. The scent combination of spearmint gum and lingering campfire smoke was sensed with a mere sniffle, and soon her hands were reaching up to pull on the sage green trim of his coat.

"You don't even know them," she settled for saying.

"They let you get lost, didn't they?" Stan's eyes found her wide ones, squinting slightly in familiar anger, but she could tell—this time at least—it wasn't directed towards her. "Yeah, bunch of mates, they are."

It was her turn to break the intimacy blossoming between them. She disconnects their stare that was inevitably going to convey all the unspoken feelings that still flourished inside of her to spare a glance over his shoulder. The furnace filled with a burning stack of dry wood lures her away from Stan, and she kneels down in front of it.

His hands go to his belt, elbows bent outward like he was posing as a chicken. He was unsettled by how consumed he was by his emotions. He wanted to give her space but then he finds himself reaching for her. He wanted to remain civil but the distaste in her tone and her infuriating, unreasonable glare casted towards him causes him to delve into his own hostile urges. The confusion of what to do and how to deal with her presence was boardering on insufferable.

But facing her, watching her beneath the firelight, the strain of his internal compass ebbed. He was no longer directionless or purposeless. The orange glare enducing a riveting shine to her hair and her tranquil countenance she upheld gazing into the flames had him feeling certain in just about every single thing that made the universe, the universe.

"You're staring," she whispers, a tremble in her reply she blames on recovering from the weather.

"And you won't even look over at me for a second." His observation coaxes her into peering at him, finding that he enclosed the distance between them by a few steps. A playful smile twitches across his lips. "What? Don't like a man in uniform?"

"I wouldn't be bragging about your outfit, Stan. You're a glorified Boy Scout," she remarks, rising from her position on her knees. Her thumb and pointer finger pinch the small, golden slate pinned to his shirt. "Even have badges and everything,"

"Get your grubby little hands away from my name tag. You're gonna smudge it," he grumbles, smacking her hand away; she lets out a humorless, short-lived laugh at his overreaction.

"Still an uptight asshole, I see."

"Still a mouthy brat, then?"

His retort makes her face harden. "Being honest doesn't make me a mouthy brat."

"Just inconsiderate?"

"You're preaching to me about being inconsiderate? You live off of ridiculing people. On our date, you insulted and humiliated our waiter because he didn't know the exact species of deer mounted to the wall."

"I was just taking a moment to educate him!"

"You called him a fumbling idiot who didn't know the basic fundamentals of biology!"

"Oh, like you were any better! Shoving your tits into the bartender's face to get free drinks!" He throws his hands up, easily overtaken by frustration and unresolved jealously.

"I know how much you make, Stan. You should be thanking me for that," she says slowly, deliberately, bringing up the one thing she knows will push him over the edge. He takes the bait, but she doesn't expect what he throws back at her.

"You're right. Thank you, sweetheart, for acting like such a slut on our first date that all anyone had to do for dessert was crouch down between your open legs."

Her mouth dropped at his statement. His exasperation dissolves to shock at processing his own harsh comment. He isn't able to focus on it for long, though, because she properly acts by allowing her palm to connect to his cheek.

Head snapped to the side, he can begin to taste a droplet of blood on his tongue, emitting from where his incisor pinched his bottom lip. He licks over the minor wound thoughtfully, heaving out a breath of false amusement. When he looks at her again, his face is dark and full of cruel intentions of revenge.

Stan surges forward and doesn't stop until her body crashes against the wall like she was just a bag of dismantled bones. His coat falls from her shoulders and slumps against the hardwood floor during the journey. His towering height and weight pin her in place, leaving her at the mercy of splayed hands and the relentless motions of his mouth against hers.

The awakening, leftover flavor of gum he must've chewed eariler just sinks in when he bites down hard on her lip. A whimper, the first sound she makes besides the ejection of a surprised gasp, is forced out her from the harsh gesture. A metallic taste replaces the one prior, one eager swipe of his tongue rolling past her parted lips.

The instinct to shoot her hands up and enmesh them in the soft, chestnut strands of his cropped hair is interrupted by an action of his own. He eases the intensity of the kiss, allowing her to breathe through languid, desperate puckers she reciprocates, but his fingers hook around both her bra and tank top straps, yanking them down her arms. She lifts herself out of them only to have him grasp the collar of her shirt and pull it down, her bra in tow, until they were just bundled material around her midriff.

Calloused hands fondled her breasts while his mouth diverts to her neck, sucking and nipping until her skin resembled the colorful patches of a quilt. She throws her head back against the wall, leaning into his touch and letting out the most delicate moans that had all of his blood gushing to the apex of his legs; she felt proof of it when he rutted himself against her.

Her forearms are squeezed between their bodies so she can reach the buttons of his shirt, manicured fingers working hastily and with not as much care she knew Stan would've liked, but he seemed to be too preoccupied by kissing her all over. Soon her hands were tugging up the white t-shirt he always wore underneath his uniform, and he helped her out by shifting it over his head and discarding it to the growing pile of clothes.

His chest was warm and inviting compared to hers. Her skin felt like cool marble underneath his fingertips, keeping her nipples pebbled and sweat from the heated exchange at bay. It was quite a contrast as their bodies continued to press together, her hands sliding along the expanse of his taut back while he concentrated on undoing her shorts.

"All mine," he mumbled against her jaw; it was certainly hard to disagree with him and all his handsy clutches and kisses that left her craving more.

"All yours," she confirmed softly.

The words barely left her mouth before she felt the heart-jolting sensation that was his hand sliding past her unzipped shorts and underwear. His fingers ran up and down down her folds, taking his time, ever the explorer. He often grazed her clit, encouraging her hips to arch into him for more direct contact, but he was careful to only give her a slight, fleeting amount.

"Stan." His name parted from her in a low whine—somewhat shamefully because she never thought she'd be in this circumstance, begging a hardass park ranger with a major superiority complex for a release.

"So wet for me. Awful naughty of you to get this soaked from one arguement with me, don't you think?"

She nuzzled her face into the side of his, nose brushing along his chiseled cheekbone. "Please."

"Aw, look at you. So sweet. You'd never think that you live to slander me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am nothing but nice to you."

"Oh?" He inserts his middle finger into her, curling it precisely, while the heel of his hand grinds against her clit with every deliberate pump.

"Yes," she gasps.

Shallow pants gradually rack through her torso, and the ache of his throbbing cock becomes unbearable at the sight of her defenseless against his advances. He adds another finger, the grip and warmth of her slick walls causing him to shudder in anticipation.

"Such a little liar," he groans out after a particularly provocative contraction around his digits, one that rids him of whatever patience he had left.

He abruptly removes his hand from her shorts, something that makes her closed eyes flicker open. Her mouth immediately morphs into a pout and she squeezes his biceps in protest.

She isn't left waiting for long, hands on her hips guiding her away from the wall until the underside of her knees hit the edge of a cot. His mouth parts from hers once more, a sweet dragging of overlapped lips exchanged during the slow steps, so he can pull back the blanket. She looks over her shoulder at the neatly presented cot, which Stan must've brought with him along with his own fitted bedspread. She was now appreciative that he always came prepared.

Without having to be told, she crawled underneath the covers after ridding herself of the remainder of her clothing. Stan did the same once she was settled, becoming the final layer that draped over her body. The blanket and the crisp white of a top sheet stopped at the dimples of his back, and she was trapped in warmth, intensified by the glorious weight of his bare body on hers. Arms on either side of her head latch the cage as he leans down for another kiss.

"Don't mistake me keeping you warm as forgiveness. I'm still very mad at you. You drive me crazy," he sighs against her jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against the apple of her cheek.

"Don't mistake me moaning for you as an apology. You don't deserve one." Her strokes at the nape of his neck never faltered. Her thighs spread, legs winding around his, desperate for him to do something with his cock that laid twitching and swollen on her navel. "Well, you might if you fuck me hard enough."

"Shut up already."

Long fingers brick over her parted mouth in time with the repositioning of his hips, muffling the cries of consumption that came from him sinking inside of her. Eyes roll to the back of her head, almost completely sated by just the feeling of being filled. The head of his shaft glided against her most sensitive spot like a brush of shoulders, and her thighs tightening around his waist was her turning around, ready to chase shattering gratification.

Although slow, his thrusts into her were brutal. They held onto to each other like you would to ropes of a ruinous bridge connecting two cliffs, like they would be faced with a plummeting death if they were to let go. And yet, they were fighting along the wobbly planks, the semicircles of hip bones clashing together like medieval swords. It was all extremes, but neither of them would have it any other way.

He was making the most beautiful sounds above her. Through his ruthless motions, were breathy moans and whines of her name, the occasional praise intertwined into his enticing responses. Eventually, he allowed his hand to stop sealing her lips, sliding it down to clutch the flesh of her thigh with the promise of bruises. Her soft pleas and moans of euphoria joined his to create a symphony worthy of a ballet orchestra.

Strings of saliva conntected rouge lips to the marked skin of his neck, where she continued to suckle and playfully nip. The roll of their bodies picked up speed, both becoming impatient by the delicious ache they kept provoking, daring one another to spasm out of control. They craved for their muscles to become a tightrope and for the most intimate parts of them to pulsate from the finality of release.

"You've never looked prettier than you do right now. Your cunt squeezing me so tight, your mouth only able to form breathless whispers... completely wrecked. I love it."

"Please," she cannot help but beg, flickering eyes undecided on whether to shut her continue their hazy, half-lidded stare into his own.

"You want to come?" The inward pull of his eyebrows and the slight curl of his parted mouth way as well have been a mocking pout. "I know you do. I shouldn't even let you, though. You've been intolerable. I should just come all over your writhing body and leave you here without any satisfaction. Even if you were to finish yourself off, it wouldn't be enough. It would only feel subpar, and you know that, don't you?" His breath fans her face like the furnace had moments ago, and she can only whimper in reply. "Only I can sate you, sweetheart."

Her hands, whose nails had already inflicted damage to the freckled canvas of his back, sweep over his shoulders to cup his jaw. Her thumb strokes his jawline while the other ventures down the column of his throat, feeling the bob of his adam's apple with every constristing swallow he took. She could tell he was close, too, and decided to nod her head gently in agreement to his words, to wave her white flag.

Her surrender is reassured by fingertips dragging down her torso to her enlarged clit, granting bone-vanishing swipes that causes stuttered gasps and limbs going slack. It only takes a few seconds of coaxing rubbing for her release to erupt, the molten lava bursting from the pit of her stomach to electrify just about every nerve in her body. Her encompassing walls clutch around him so tightly that it summons a delirious climax from him.

His strenuous pace wavers, his hold on the cot becoming prudent, as if it was a buoy keeping him afloat through the thrashing waves of pleasure. White, sticky ribbons coat the inside of her thighs, and it's only when his heartbeat ebbs from his eardrums that he cracks his eyes open and collaspes into the small remaining space between her and the wall.

Stan speaks after catching his breath, remaining pants interwoven into his declaration. "This should've happened sooner."

"It would've if you weren't such a prick," she noted, sparing him a quick glance.

"Okay, maybe... I wasn't on my best behavior. But I was nervous. I liked you a lot. I wanted to impress you."

"And you thought bragging about how you're a know-it-all when it comes to plants and wildlife and the park's terrain was going to the trick?"She questioned, snorting at his logic. His nose twitch, an indicator of embarrassment, and she grabs his arm and tucks herself into his side. "You're such a dork."

He smiled at the gesture before she continued, "I'm sorry that I flirted with the bartender. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were second best or anything. Honest to God, I just wanted free stuff."

"Well, the cream puffs you got out of it were actually delicious," Stan admitted, tilting his head in her direction.

She smiled back at him. "I know, right?"

Stan may not be a prime example of a good guy but he had always took glory in being good at his job. That's what kept him going, that's what fueled him all these years. Now, he was considering what life entailed outside of that. Outside of the stressful responsibilities and government conspiracies and the never-ending studious tendencies. She came to him for refuge tonight, but, the truth is, he had been relying on her for a long time. To fascinate him, to stand up to him, to guide him back to where he belonged.

He felt like he was finally pursuing something that was more important than his duties here, than anything else he's ever experienced. He was an off-bound ship, cruising blind into the dead of the night, and she was a lighthouse, promising purpose and salvation from every bad thing that ever tried to sink him.

// idk who to tag but i think @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme & @instinctsxbaby might be interested (you’re all so talented)!

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

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

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Konoha’s Beautiful Green Beast

AU: Canon

Words: 1899

Rating: General

Pairings: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Warnings: None

Summary: The wedding is finally here, and Kakashi can’t help but feel nervous. Especially when his husband-to-be is late.

Made with lots of help from @uncharted-darkness

Panic was starting to rise in his chest. A tight, painful feeling making it difficult for him to breath. Like there was a heavyweight on his chest, making the pain worse every second that he stood there.

“He’s late…” his voice shook when he spoke, all of the worst-case scenarios coming to the front of his mind.

What if he’s injured and I’m not there to help?

What if he got lost?

Or he just doesn’t want to marry me anymore?

His stomach churned, Nausea settling in.

Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he tried to apply some reason to the situation. Remind himself that it was Gai who asked him to marry him, who planned out the wedding and carefully picked out the guest list so that it wasn’t too big but all of their friends were there.

No matter what he did, that impending feeling of disaster clung to him. Clawing at his soul while his mind tried to come up with every excuse that it could be for Gai’s lateness.

Gai, who was always on time with a bright smile and excitement that no one else could ever hope to match. Who had never kept Kakashi waiting for anything in his life, and would often scold Kakashi for just being a few minutes late to their dates.

“Sensei,” Sakura’s voice called out to him, but he ignored it. His mind going a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out why Gai wasn’t there. Coming up with even more excuses and reason’s for why he was left standing there in front of a room full of people he didn’t even want there, waiting for his fiance. “Sensei!”

A hand came down onto his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he focused his attention on his student. Her face stern as she stared into his eyes.

“You’re panicking,” As if pointing out the obvious would suddenly get rid of the barrage of negative thoughts going through his mind. “Gai-Sensei will be here. I’m sure he has a good reason for being late.”

Somehow Sakura’s words don’t help him relax, though he does appreciate the effort. No matter how hard he tries to listen and believe her words, his mind refuses to cooperate.

I knew he’d realize it

Giving his head a shake, he pressed a hand over his left eye. A tactic that he had learned over the years to try and help himself through the panic. Just a little pressure to center himself into the real world.

I’m not good enough for him. He doesn’t want me anymore.

His hands started to shake. Fingers twitching against his face as the negative thoughts drowned everything else out. Silent, personal reminders of how he didn’t deserve Gai.

“Hey,” A pair of hands wrapped around his wrists, forcing him to open his eyes and look at Sakura once more. This time Naruto was standing directly behind her with a worried look on his face. “Sensei, he’ll be here.”

He knows she means those words. Her voice is serious and firm, trying to reach out to him when his own mind was against him, and he wanted so desperately to believe what she was saying.

Opening his mouth, words of protest start to form. Before he can get them out, though, the sound of laughter fills the air. Gai’s laughter, loud and bright, drowning out every word of doubt that had been swimming in his head just moments ago.

“I told you,” Sakura jabbed him in the side, chuckling when he glared down at her. “You worry too much, Sensei. Gai-Sensei will always show up for you.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, stamping out the fear and pain as if they were nothing. The only thing his brain would focus on now was the laughter that he loved so much.

Fixing his eyes on the entrance to the field, he wished that there weren’t trees and fences blocking his view. Tenzo’s idea, of course. He had said something about adding a little suspense to Kakashi’s life, and he hated it. It wasn’t so much to ask to see the person he was going to marry, was it?

“Straighten up, Sensei,” Naruto finally spoke up, beaming when Kakashi looked his way. “You want Bushier-brows Sensei to see you excited for the wedding, don’t you?”

Straightening himself up, Kakashi forced his hands out of his pockets and forced them down to his side.

“Maybe not that straight,” Sakura giggled behind him. “Now you look like you’re getting ready for Tsunade-sama to give you a mission.”

That wouldn’t do.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his shoulders and focused on the entrance that Gai would come through. The spot where he’d finally get to see his partner. That stunning smile shining as bright as ever towards him, and eyes that screamed ‘home’ when he felt lost and confused about where he belonged.

A blaze of green came rolling into view. The wheels of Gai’s wheelchair screeching to a stop dead center of the entrance, with green and purple ribbons attached to the handlebars and arms swaying in the wind.

Gai’s chair was a celebration of colors, and no doubt drew in a few eyes from the audience, but all Kakashi could look at was the person he was going to marry.

A bright, proud smile. So wide that he could see every single tooth in Gai’s mouth. Eyes soft and kind, staring at Kakashi as if he was the only person there, with a misty look in there that told him his partner was already close to tears. Slowly, making sure that Kakashi was watching him the entire time, Gai raised up his left arm and stuck out his thumb in his signature pose, and for the first time since he had arrived that morning, Kakashi laughed.

Happy and warm, he turned his face away from Gai and brought a hand up to wipe away the tears that had started to pool in his eyes.

He knew why he had panicked, but standing here now with Gai sitting at the entrance smiling at him, he couldn’t imagine how he had ever believed the things his mind tried to tell him. Gai, who had always been by his side. Who refused to leave him even when he tried so desperately to push him away, choosing not to get married to him.

Deciding after all of these years that he could do better, and leaving Kakashi at their wedding alone and broken. It was all so ridiculous now that he thought of it.

“Sensei,” Naruto’s face appeared directly in front of him suddenly. “Are you crying?”

Usually, he would scold Sakura for punching her teammate at such an important event, but he was willing to let it slide this one time. She had held back her punch, only hitting Naruto hard enough that he was forced to take a step back, and she immediately started lecturing him about giving their Sensei his personal space and not embarrassing him on his wedding day.

He really did appreciate the support.

“That’s enough, you two.” using the bottom of his palm to wipe away the last bit of tears, he looked back down the aisle to Gai and finally took in the full image. Rather than wearing the brilliant green Hanfu that Kakashi had helped him pick out just a few weeks ago, Gai seemed to have gone with a stunning green silk dress instead. Form-fitting and showing off his arms and legs perfectly, it was patterned with two different shades of green swirled around each other along the length of the dress. The neckline dipped down into a V-neck, highlighting Gai’s chest.

The feeling of a small weight landing on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, forcing him to drag his eyes away from Gai and to the small pug dog getting comfortable there on his shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the perimeter?” he asked, certain that he had made Pakkun’s mission objective clear for the wedding. ‘Make sure that no one did anything stupid.

Pakkun was the only one he trusted to keep everyone in line, especially later in the evening when Alcohol entered the mix.

“You do know that ‘Make sure no one does anything stupid’ includes you, right?” Some would call it fate that Kakashi had connected with the sassiest little shit of a hound dog in the page, but Kakashi liked to consider it divine torture. Someone in the universe was laughing their asses off at him every time he talked to Pakkun, and one of these days he was going to find them and stab them. “You look like you’re about to jump Gai, and it’s my job to make sure you keep your hands to yourself until the ceremony is over.”

“Have I ever told you that Bull is my favourite?”

“Don’t lie to my face just because you’re mad you can’t tackle Gai,” Reaching out a paw, Pakkun shoved it against Kakashi’s masked cheek. “Now pay attention. He’s headed your way.”

Returning his attention to Gai, Kakashi smiled when he saw him making his way towards him. Tenten right behind him carefully pushing his wheelchair, and Ningame in front of him.

It had sounded so weird when he originally suggested including their Summons in the wedding. He had thought Gai would laugh at him and tell him that they could just use their students or other shinobi for the jobs he wanted to give Ningame and the hounds.

But Gai had smiled that soft beautiful smile instead and told him that he loved the idea. Indulged him when he wanted to add something personal and interesting to the wedding.

“Hey,” Pakkun smacked his cheek, this time a hint of claws coming out to poke him. “Stop zoning out.”

Right.

He was getting married. To Maito Gai of all people.

Keeping focus was important.

“Rival,” Gai came to a stop at his side, his bright smile shining up at Kakashi as he waved Tenten off to take her place by his side with Lee and turned his chair to face his Fiance. Soon to be husband. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. I had a little trouble deciding what i wanted to wear today.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you made the right choice,” reaching out, he gently brushed Gai’s hair behind his ear. Chuckling when he leaned into the touch. “You brought the Hanfu just in case, right?”

“Tenten has it sealed away in a scroll,” He assured him. “You didn’t worry too much while you were waiting, right?”

“Not at all,” he could hear Naruto and Sakura snickering behind him. Giving away all of his secrets to Gai without saying a single word. He’d have to deal with them later. “Just excited. I finally get to marry Konoha’s beautiful Green Beast.”

Gai’s laughter filled the air once more. Beautiful, warm laughter that made Kakashi’s chest bloom with excitement.

After all of those years of putting it off. Promising that they’d get around to it once there were no more missions and wars, and almost losing Gai to the eighth gate, he was doing it. Committing himself to Gai for the rest of his life. Finally, he was done waiting. Today was the day he married Gai and started the rest of their lives together.

He couldn’t wait.

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 2: Scars

Ayyy, Day 2!!! I loved seeing everyone’s fics/art yesterday and I can’t believe it, but I think I’m obssessing over subscorp MORE, somehow??? which I didn’t think was possible lol.

Fic’s getting posted later in the day because the subscorp server is merciless and wouldn’t stop plaguing me with god tier content lololol

Read it on AO3.

"So this is how the Lin Kuei Grandmaster treats his allies?"

Hanzo held the tattered remains of his gi, split nearly in two from a deft slice of Kuai Liang's ice blade. He'd dodged, but while he'd avoided bloodshed, his clothing had not escaped so easily.

Kuai Liang hid his pleasure beneath an affable shrug as he pulled a spare change of clothes from his armoire.

"If you would prefer I hold back, you need only say so," Kuai Liang teased. "I suppose losing so often must grow tiresome."

Their spar had been as invigorating and challenging as ever, but it had become habit by now to stop by Kuai Liang's chambers once they finished. They often allowed their elements to run wild in an effort to gain the upper hand, and torn clothes tended to become casualties in their eagerness. Kuai Liang had invested in many more plain black or white robes since their alliance, as Hanzo always sneered so mightily whenever he tried to offer him a garment in proud Lin Kuei blues.

Hanzo, standing in the center of the room as he patiently waited for the spare clothes, narrowed his eyes.

"Perhaps I am the one who must hold back," Hanzo said, "I must have hit you once too hard for such blatantly ridiculous words to fall from your lips."

"Are you accusing me of lying, Hanzo?"

"I am accusing you of delusion. Perhaps insanity."

As Hanzo spoke, he shrugged off his torn gi and the retort Kuai Liang had ready died on his tongue.

It was far from the first time that he'd seen Hanzo's bare skin, but the sight never failed to coax a quiet appreciation from him. Muscled and powerful, Hanzo cut an impressive figure, but the marks that laid scattered across his torso commanded Kuai Liang's attention more than anything else.

From thick welts to harsh, jagged tears, pockmarks and skin discolored from wounds mistreated before they could heal properly, Hanzo's skin held a wealth of battles hard-won and lost, of a lifetime of pain and fighting and incredible, staggering endurance. Often, the urge to trace each one, to worship Hanzo's body and pay homage to each proof of survival, seized him, and it overcame him once more, though he held back.

Hanzo, however, noticed his staring. He paused, eyebrow raised.

"What?"

Kuai Liang left the change of clothes behind, came close enough to touch and brushed the back of his fingers over a long scar that trailed from the top of Hanzo's shoulder down to the center of his chest.

"So many scars," Kuai Liang murmured. Hanzo's eyes dropped, following the same path as Kuai Liang's eyes across his chest, where marks were so numerous they often overlaid one another in a thick lattice. "You have survived a great many ordeals."

Hanzo didn't speak for a moment. He lifted a hand, turned it over so his open palm hovered between them. His gaze was for the scar in the center of his palm, a thick line that stretched between his middle fingers.

"Most are from my time in the Netherrealm," he said, and Kuai Liang felt a dull ache in his chest. Torture, Hanzo meant.

"I am sorry." The words were trite, useless, but all he had.

Hanzo didn't look at him, eyes worse than blank: dead.

"I did not feel it," he confessed simply, hollow.

Kuai Liang cursed himself; he recognized that look on Hanzo's face, one that had appeared far too often in the time since their alliance. Hanzo had overcome much of his guilt, but he was not immune to random bouts of the feeling, of the familiar darkness that always threatened to swallow him should he let his guard down even slightly.

His time as Scorpion had been like an eternity of living as a raw, exposed nerve that never stopped bleeding, he'd once confessed. Constant pain and anguish without so much as a sliver of hope on the horizon.

To be so consumed in grief and misery that even the worst tortures of Hell could not reach him—Kuai Liang might live a hundred years and he would never understand such a feeling. He prayed he never would.

Kuai Liang took Hanzo's hand, curled another around Hanzo's neck so that he could bring him closer and lean their heads together.

"I am sorry," he rumbled, tracing the warm skin of Hanzo's neck. "I should not have spoken of it."

Hanzo tensed for only an instant; almost just as quickly, he sighed and Kuai Liang could feel the way his body sank against him, loosed of the tension that had crept over him at the reminder of his past.

One hand encircled Kuai Liang's wrist while the other came to rest on his waist.

"No, it is fine. You may ask whatever you wish." His hand trailed up, cupped Kuai Liang's cheek for a brief moment before his fingers gently alighted on the thick scar that bisected Kuai Liang's eye. "I am not the only one who bears marks of a hard life."

"Mine was borne of incompetence," Kuai Liang argued, and he could not keep a note of frustration from his voice. It irked, even to this day, to remember how he'd allowed the attack by letting his guard down. His pride might never fully recover.

"Raiden sent you to the temple without the information you needed. You could not have predicted what would happen."

"A common mercenary attacked me and lived; that failure is mine alone."

"Hmph," Hanzo hummed, and Kuai Liang could hear the amusement in the sound. "A sensitive subject, I see." He stroked his fingers through Kuai Liang's hair, affectionate and doting. "We have nowhere to be. Perhaps it is time we paid the Black Dragon a visit," he offered.

Kuai Liang chuckled, grateful Hanzo seemed successfully coaxed from his painful memories.

"You would risk starting a war with the Black Dragon simply to assuage my pride?"

Hanzo's nose wrinkled. "You said so yourself, they are common mercenaries." Hanzo dismissed. He seemed insulted by the very idea that the Black Dragon could pose a legitimate threat. "There is no contest."

"Hm." Kuai Liang wrapped his arms around Hanzo's waist, brought their bodies flush. "Perhaps for a rainy day."

"As you wish," Hanzo agreed, smiling. His dark eyes held a familiar heat that made Kuai Liang's heart jump. "We should be working," Hanzo pointed out, though he made no move to separate himself.

Kuai Liang held him tighter anyways, against the very possibility of any distance between them.

"Nothing that can not wait, Grandmaster."

[echoghost1]

Happy 10 years to Teen Wolf (the tv show)!

So my One True Fandom is Danny Phantom but that won't stop me from dabbling in a crossover from time to time.

I thought of this crossover between Danny Phantom and Teen Wolf and when I was doing a bit of research I found out when the anniversary was and I just had to make sure the first chapter was ready by that date, aka today June 5th!

Story Title: Under the Full Moon

Summary: The Nemeton has just been reawakened and Beacon Hills is all the more attractive for the supernatural creatures of the world. Scott and his friends thought they had more than enough on their plate and then Lydia finds a boy in the woods. Something about him seems off, but they aren't sure what it is.

All they know for sure is that his name is Danny Fenton, and he's a long way from home.

Chapter Title: Meet Me In The Woods

Word Count for chapter 1: 1,653

Anywho, you can read it on AO3 or down below the cut!

Lydia sighed as she shut the cupboard door. How they had already run out of dog food for Prada, she had no idea. She could have sworn her mom had just restocked when she had gone shopping last.

With nothing better to do, she decided she may as well pick some up herself. She left a quick note for her mom on the fridge before heading out.

It didn’t take long to get to her destination but when she got out of the car she froze.

This was not the parking lot for the pet store. She was parked on the side of the road surrounded by woods.

“Not again,” she whined as she stalled near her car.

She really didn’t want to find another dead body. She was so tired of finding dead bodies. Since she was alone she allowed herself to let out her frustration by stomping in place, like a toddler throwing a silent tantrum. Then she took a breath to compose herself, dug her phone out of her purse pocket, and held it like a lifeline before heading off into the forest towards whatever it was she was called to find.

She was thankful it was still daylight, even if the sun was starting to set now. The forest wasn’t quite so ominous in the light. The trees broke way into a clearing and she hesitated again.

She bit her lip wondering who she should call. Normally she wouldn’t hesitate to call her friends, but they were having a rough time right now with the whole recently dead sacrifice thing. Then again, she could call the police. Now that Sheriff Stilinski knew about the supernatural he’d realize the importance of finding a body here off all places.

Although, he had just been here too.

She took a few steps closer to the body. If she was going to call this in, she should at least be able to get close enough to give a description. It’s not like this was her first time.

She got as close as she dared, slowly circling the area for any clues while she did her best not to touch anything.

The body appeared to be of a young teen boy, it was hard to tell how old exactly with his youthful face and because of how he was laying, curled up in the fetal position. With how he was positioned perfectly in the center of the large stump it reminded her too much of an offering being made. And considering where they were and what had recently happened here, that wasn’t exactly a good sign. She was glad there wasn’t any blood at least. Actually, now that she was looking, he didn’t appear to be hurt at all. If anything, he looked like he was sleeping.

She stopped moving and just watched him for a moment.

Part of his dark hair that hung in front of his face fluttered momentarily.

She held her breath and listened.

He sighed.

She dropped her phone and covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming. He was alive?! She found someone who was still alive? How? Why? Who was this kid?

She had to wake him up.

“Hey. Hey kid,” she called gently not wanting to startle him too much.

He groaned in his sleep and rolled over, “five more minutes.” he mumbled.

Did he just-? Did he think he was sleeping in his bed at home? How was that even comfortable?

She marched around the stump and carefully made her way around the gnarled roots so she could get in close, “I am not your mom and you seriously should not be sleeping here!”

He mumbled something unintelligible but she ignored him and reached for his arm instead.

“Would you just wake up already?”

The instant she touched him, his eyes shot open and he sat up ramrod straight. His fists went up in a protective fighting pose which made him come across looking more frightened than frightening.

She carefully stood up doing her best to keep her balance and not move too fast and scare him more.

“Hey there, you okay?” she asked cautiously.

He slowly looked around taking in the woods around them, checking himself over for injuries, before finally looking down to see what he was sitting on.

She used his momentary distraction to quickly look for her phone while doing her best to keep him in her sights.

“I think so?”

She slowly walked toward her displaced phone and picked it up.

He froze when he saw her move and she made a show of being non-threatening, “I just dropped my phone when I saw you is all.” She held it up and wiggled it in her hand, and smiled when he relaxed.

“Where are we?” he asked looking around the open area with nothing but confusion on his face.

“The woods just outside Beacon Hills,” she said matter of factly. “Did you need a ride home? I’m Lydia by the way.”

“Hi, Lydia. I’m Danny.” He was quiet for a moment, taking his time with something before he spoke again, “I’m probably going to sound really dumb right now, but,” he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as he gave her a nervous smile, “Where exactly is Beacon Hills? Like State-wise?”

She blinked at him a couple of times. That certainly was an odd question. “California.”

He blanched, “California?!”

“Not from around here then?”

“No!” He pulled his knees up to his chest and threaded his fingers into his unruly dark hair, “I can’t be in California! I can’t!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” she tried to console but that only made him panic more.

“It’s not okay!” he pulled his hands free and he looked about one second away from bursting into tears, “I don’t know how I got here!”

Well, that wasn’t good.

Nothing about this situation was good or made any sense at all. But they weren’t going to figure anything out if they just stayed here. “My car is just back there,” she pointed in the general direction of the road, “why don’t we get out of these woods and we can figure this out and get you on the way home?”

He was still breathing too hard but he did seem receptive to the idea at least, “yeah I guess hanging out in the woods at night isn’t the best idea.”

“It really isn’t.”

He started to scoot off of the stump but paused, “Is it really that dangerous out here?” His eyebrows rose as he realized something, “Oh wait! California is the state with the bear flag, right? Are there really bears here?” he asked in alarm but then dropped his voice to more of a whisper and added, “I thought it was a metaphor.”

Lydia sighed, “I’m not worried about bears, Danny.”

“Oh.” his shoulders slumped and he picked at the hem of his faded NASA t-shirt, “so what are you worried about?”

She wanted to say, the copious amounts of were-people, but instead settled on, “I just don’t want to be out here at night.”

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

“What? No!”

“Because it’s cool if you are! I won’t make fun of you for it!”

“I’m not afraid of the dark, Danny,” she restated firmly.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Forget I said anything.” He held his hands up in surrender.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” that might explain why he was so adamant about it?

“What?” he waved her off with a smirk, “No, that’d be silly.”

She put her hand on her hip and stared at him, “it’s okay if I’m afraid of the dark but not you?” if this was a gender thing she would kick his scrawny little ass.

He immediately figured out her line of thinking and back-peddled so hard, “Oh no! I didn’t mean it like that! I just- I uh,” he stammered for a bit before he was able to find the words again, “I just forgot you didn’t know me that well.”

“You forgot we just met?”

“I just mean that,” he stopped mid-sentence to think, “How do I explain this?” he asked himself, “Oh! Okay, so I didn’t mean it like ‘I’m a big strong guy and you’re a weak silly woman’. That would be awful and super incorrect. You could probably kick my butt into next week without even trying!”

Lydia smirked in approval.

“I just meant that it was silly to think that me, personally, being afraid of the dark was ridiculous. You see, I want to be an astronaut and space is like mostly darkness so it’d just be weird if I wanted to go to a place that was made up of something I was afraid of. It’d be like a fashion designer that was afraid of fabric.”

She laughed, “alright, apology accepted. Let’s go.”

He smiled back and used the edge of the stump to steady himself as he found his footing among the roots. “Man, this must have been a huge tree,” he said with his hands still holding on to the edge of the ancient oak.

Lydia stayed quiet and wondered if he was going to say anything else but instead he just pushed off the tree to stand up fully. He spun around to face her with a smile before it quickly vanished.

He swayed ever so slightly and held his hand up to his head, “I think I spun around too fast.” he took a couple of poorly coordinated steps towards her before he tripped over his own feet and landed hard on the dirt below.

She was on her knees next to him in an instant, “whoa, are you okay?”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it to the car,” he admitted as his words started to slur.

“Why not?”

“‘cause I’m gonna pass out,” he said before doing just that.