#but i would have thought face at least would have had more votes than golden

[bisexualnamjoonie]

no but that poll. how can someone vote for golden when you have three lyrical, musical and thematic masterpieces to mesure it against. how do you actually hear music. i have so many questions. i am. yeah. 😬😬😬😬😬😬

[timbrhead]

metanoia | pt. 05.1 - scared to live, scared to die

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨;

>> welcome, my name is 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐚, and ill be your scriptwriter (^‿^✿). my story will be kind of an choose-your-own-adventure story with a poll at the end of every part, where you can vote how the story continues.

This will be honkai star rail x fireader story with these elements: reincarnation, slow burn, i gave reader a proper personality (sry, not much customisation there), does not follow the original storyline

previous part <<< >>> next part (interlude chapter)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ( this is important )

mentions of light injuries

surprisingly, your plan worked better than you expected.

well, not exactly in the way you hoped— you had the sneaking suspicion that he knows that you are not really mei lian. but at least he believed you when you said that you meant no harm.

one thing you learned about the general was, that through his many years of living, he could read ordinary people like an open book. it made sense; when you live for a few hundred years, you tend to pick up on the patterns of human behaviour.

even though he tends to laze around a bit, that doesn’t mean at all that he isn’t perceptive and cunning. in fact, it makes him even scarier that way— even in a drowsy and laid back state, you cannot escape his sharp gaze.

so he lets you quietly exist beside him, the impostor housing the body of his personal servant, just in case you attempt to try anything.

that was the only logical reason you could think off why he lets you live; to keep an eye on you. to study you.

but it wasn’t all bad, being under the watchful gaze of the general. he did not harm you, and after registering the fact that you were physically in a rather weakened state for a long life species, he even began to care for you.

you didn’t even register all the physical differences your body had. you noticed that your body was thin and lean, malnourished. you couldn’t carry heavy things, and you couldn’t run for long periods of time.

it was as frustrating as it was intriguing— it really made you wonder what mei lian survived with her siblings.

on the topic of your siblings, the general was kind enough to send out a search party for them, concerned as you were over their disappearance. maybe he saw that your worry towards these children were genuine, and decided to indulge you— that was at least your suspicion.

you were grateful nonetheless, it would be a pain to search for your siblings during your long work hours as the generals personal attendant.

not that it was a particularly hard job. it was even more domestic than you thought, you muse to yourself as you pushed a cart filled with tea and rice cakes to the courtyard. you saw the general propped on the chaise lounge, leaning over the chessboard he was playing on with yanqing.

„ general, it‘s tea time… “

you announce as you pushed the cart towards him, the steaming tea pot emitting the lingering scent of jasmine through the luscious garden. as always, the general flashed you a smug smile. he hummed, resting his cheek on his knuckles.

„ ah, perfect timing “, he announced, watching with sharp golden eyes as you prepared his tea.

„ something on your mind? “, he inquires, tilting his head slightly. you flinch, looking at him with wide eyes before waving it off, forcing a small smile to stretch across your face. you took the steaming tea cup, putting it beside a plate of sticky, sweet rice cakes.

„ i have just been—it‘s just some trivial things, general. here you go. “, you mutter, noticing his smile slightly waver as he grabs the cup, taking a sip from it. you noticed that he doesn’t like it when you weren’t transparent with him. it made him think that you were plotting something.

„ if it bothers you enough, then it is not a trivial thing. i would like to know. “

you sigh, averting your eyes. biting your lip, you prevent the frustration bubbling up and spilling from your mouth. „it…It is my siblings, general, i‘m—i‘m worried sick.“

you force out, gripping the handle of the cart. it has been two months ever since you started to work for the general, and ever since then, nothing of significance has happened.

every day felt the same, wringing out your sanity bit by bit as you acted like someone you weren’t, living a life you didn’t want to live. the mask you wore was slowly merging into a second skin, trapping you in this illusion.

„ the search party is searching for them as we speak “, the general retorts, making you calm down a bit. you nod slightly, running a hand through your hair. „i—i know, general. and i‘m forever grateful, but—“ the grip around the handle grew tighter as your eyes narrowed in exasperation.

„ i just feel so helpless. “

you admit, hearing the general sigh shortly after that. „ if you wish to do more, simply pray for their return. leave this up to my people, i‘m sure they will be found. “ he says, finishing his cup. you frown, raising your head.

„ is…is that truly everything i can do? general, why don‘t you let me join a search party? i know my siblings the best, i could help—“

„ absolutely not. “

he stops you before you could say anything more. you bit your lip at that. right. if he lets you go, then he also loses the control he has over you. there was no reason to let you go unsupervised, leaving his watchful gaze.

you were just about to protest, when he was suddenly standing before you, gently shushing you with a finger pressed against your lips.

„ please, dearest. it‘s not good for you to be stressed. you will strain your body even more. “, he comments, before slyly smiling. „why don’t we take a stroll instead? it is not healthy to be coped up inside the house all the time, no? “

he suggests, and before you know it, you are taken by his hand, with no room for protest. you could only gasp out a confused „ hah? “ as he led you out of the office into the streets, your wrist in his tight grip.

no matter how you look at it, the general was sometimes even more odd than you.

as you were led through the crowd, one that was naturally parting for the esteemed general of the luofu, you noticed that it too was a test. with the way he observed you so carefully, he wanted to test your reaction to specific things, watching if anything would make you let out an unusual reaction.

that didn’t occur though, so after stuffing you full with various items of street food and buying you a silly looking hat that he photographed you wearing ( possibly to quench his silent disappointment ) , he lead you back towards the seat of divine foresight.

but just then, as you wanted to convince the general to please delete the photo on his phone, you noticed an unusual flash of green whizzing by. it was a woman in a green robe, with light brown hair that was swooped to the side.

and momentarily, you locked your eyes with her dull ones, ones seemingly swallowing you whole.

after that a whole chain reaction started.

your vision began to waver. you felt feverish, and you saw lights flashing by you. jing yuan‘s calls were a faint echo, and everything seemed to flash by in a single second. you couldn’t even register wether you were standing or not, everything was spinning, and it was too much, too much, too much—

the voices of the passer-by’s and the general were slowly replaced with memories not belonging to you, and you felt sick, toppling over before blacking out.

you heard faint screams of agony, making your body shiver.

your lungs burned, making you tear up.

from this point on, the story really begins to ramp uppp ~ so don‘t forget to vote on what the reader should do next!

taglist; @shadowypeachsweets

- xoxo, laina

[late-to-the-party-81]

Home, Sweet Home.

AN: As voted for by my followers, my next series update is for Cali, Steve and Bucky. After the fluff of the last part I gift you a bucket load of smut. And to the Nonnie who has sent me a request for these three- that will be coming soon! I’m not ignoring you.

Beta’d by: the glorious American, tits as big as her heart, @yarnforbrains

Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Moodboard and banners by me.

Masterlist | Series masterlist | Previous part 

Relationship: Steve x Reader (Cali) x Bucky

Word count: 4.1k

CW: Poly relationship, fluff, feels, Smutty smut smut (Oral- M and F receiving, Rimming, bit of cum play, Vaginal sex, Anal fingering, Double penetration (in V and A)), cheeky banter. Bucky is a menace (d’uh!) Steve is intense, Cali is practical, even in the heat of the moment.

As you put down the box you’d been carrying and stretched out your aching back, you heard the sound of van doors closing, before it was followed by the sound of its engine starting.

Everything had moved quickly once you’d agreed with your boys that the house they’d picked was perfect. Bucky had packed up nearly all of his belongings and put them in storage, moving in full time with Steve. A few weeks later you’d done the same. You’d all agreed it would be far easier to coordinate the move from one place, as opposed to trying to leave three separate homes on the same day. 

It had been tense to say the least, but now you were standing in what would become your office and private sanctuary, you had to admit it had been worth it. Of course it would take weeks to get the room sorted out just the way you wanted it, but you were giddy at the thought that you could do what you wanted and not worry about a landlord inspection.

You were just considering the best place for your desk when a pair of thick arms dusted with golden hair wrapped around your waist from behind. You relaxed back onto the sturdy frame attached to them, leaning your head against his collarbone.

“Hey, Steve. The movers gone?” 

He dipped his head and nuzzled into your neck, his beard tickling your skin.

“Mmmhmm. Bucky’s just moving the last of his boxes to his study, and then, my darling Cali, he will finally allow us up into the master suite. I can’t believe how early he came over here this morning - just to ensure that our bed was all set up for us to sleep on this evening. Or that he wouldn’t allow either of us to see it.”

Steve’s musings were interrupted by a set of jaunty footsteps, and suddenly you were yanked from his embrace and twirled into Bucky’s beautifully mismatched arms.

“That’s cos I’ve got my priorities straight, punk. We’re gonna start this thing off right, sorting out our space first. So come on. I’ve got the suitcases of clothes up there already and our bathroom stuff. And wait until you see the bed!”  

He dropped a hurried kiss on your lips, then let you go, only to cup Steve’s face with his work-roughened hands and kiss him as well. You smirked when you saw Steve’s hands grasp Bucky’s ass and give it a little squeeze, but then Bucky was jogging away up the stairs to the top floor - your new bedroom. You looked at Steve, and he gave a little shrug in return. The two of you broke into grins at the same time andfollowed Bucky up the stairs.

Steve let you go in before him, being the gentleman that he was, but you almost regretted it when you came to a sudden halt, and your statuesque boyfriend ran into your back and almost sent you flying. There, in front of you, stretching almost the full length of the back wall was the biggest bed you’d ever seen. It was more than enough space for the three of you if you didn’t feel like cuddling up. It was rare that you forwent the cuddingling, but it was nice to have the option. In the middle of it all was Bucky, lying spread eagle on the bed with a puckish grin on his face.

“What are you waiting for? Come try it out!”

With a squeal you launched yourself at him and the bed. He deftly rolled out of the way, and you giggled as you bounced on the sprung mattress. Bucky quickly covered and pinned you, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face and neck. You playfully batted at him but didn’t really make any effort to push him off and away, and therefore, you weren’t really surprised when his kisses got a bit more hot and heavy. 

He dropped his hips onto you, unashamedly letting you feel his arousal. In response, you wrapped your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and gave it a little tug, provoking a deep moan.

“I like how you managed to get all the sheets on…” You arched as his lips trailed down your neck.

“Well, gotta make sure it was going to be comfortable for my best girl…” he lifted his head away from you and turned to look at Steve, who was still standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame with a smirk on his handsome face. “... and my best guy. What’re you still doing over there, punk? This doesn’t work without all three of us.”

Steve pushed himself upright, and as he stepped towards the bed, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and revealed his chiselled chest and abs, sprinkled with dark blonde hair. He toed off his shoes and popped the button on his jeans before climbing onto the bed beside you and Bucky. There was a feral gleam in his eye as he caught Bucky’s lips. Their kiss was more feral than romantic, both of them moaning into it, and you could feel your desire pooling between your legs, the way it did any time you saw your boys loving on each other.

You reached your free hand up to the back of Steve’s neck, so you could guide them back down to you. You were greedy for both of them, and you didn’t care. They effortlessly drew you into the kiss, three pairs of lips and three tongues coming together in a tangle. It was messy and erotic, and everything you wanted.

Steve continued to kiss you as Bucky broke away, his hands inching their way under your top and pushing it up as his body slid down yours. He greedily tugged at the cups of your sensible cotton bra, freeing your breasts and immediately latching onto one with his mouth and the other with his fingers. Steve swallowed your moans and pulled your top further up, only letting go of your lips to pull the fabric over your head and throwing it to join his t-shirt on the floor. He yanked down the straps of your bra, making it easier for Bucky, who - from the sounds he was making - was enjoying devouring your sweet flesh. You pulled Steve back in for more kisses, your blood on fire under the ministrations of the two men you loved.

As Bucky travelled further down your body, pulling your yoga pants off you, Steve’s hands roamed. His thumbs played with the wet peaks of your breasts, keeping them pebbled and sensitive. You were sucking in lungfuls of air, dizzy on sensation. You registered Bucky’s warm breath on your thighs, in between them, and then he was devouring you again. Your fingers, still lodged in Steve’s short blonde locks, tightened, making him hiss as you whined.

“Bucky making you feel good, Cali? I know how much you love his tongue. Don’t blame you, baby. It’s a talented tongue. I want you to let yourself go. Be as loud as you want. You’re in your own home - your home with us, and we can do whatever we want. Wanna hear you scream as he makes you cum. Can you do that?”

Your eyes were screwed shut, hands still clenched, but you nodded. Bucky knew exactly what to do to get you there. Sometimes he teased you, keeping you just under the plateau of your pleasure until you were begging him, begging Steve. But other times he just went for it, keen to feel you cum on his face, over and over and over, until you were limp. Today it appeared he was going for the latter. 

His tongue plunged into your pussy; his thumb drew circles on your clit.

“Bucky! Fuck!” You shifted your legs against the cool sheets when they were suddenly lifted up in the air, and thrown over Bucky’s shoulders. The man himself was on his knees, chest flat to the bed, large body pressed as far between your thighs as possible, almost burying himself in your folds and folding you almost in half. You could feel your approaching orgasm, and it was obvious that Steve could tell as well, because that’s when he lowered his mouth to your breasts. “Steve! I… I… oh God!”

The pleasure crashed over you, waves and waves of it lifting you up so you were breathless, then pulling you down and tossing you around so you didn’t know which way was up. 

Cool air hit your chest as Steve pulled his mouth off you. Your eyes opened again in response, just in time to see him lean forward, drag Bucky away from your cunt, and smash his lips against his boyfriend’s. 

They pawed at each other, Bucky pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans and briefs in one go, so that his cock sprang free. Steve immediately wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few tugs, making Bucky whimper into his mouth. You watched them with hooded eyes, as amazed by their beauty today as you had been the first time you’d seen them together. 

Somehow, Bucky pulled back from Steve’s lips and removed the hand from his weeping cock. Bucky gave the slightly taller man a light shove in the shoulder and with a smirk, Steve allowed himself to fall back onto the mattress, the springy surface bouncing as he landed down next to you. Bucky yanked at Steve’s jeans, dragging them off him as though they offended him, which in this moment, they probably had. You knew how Bucky got when there was something between him and his prize. 

Steve was commando under his pants, and you swore you saw Bucky’s eyes light up as they zoned in on Steve’s cock. He shuffled forward, hovering over Steve’s crotch and then, looking up into his boyfriend’s face, allowed a string of saliva to fall from his lips to land right on Steve’s tip. Both you and Steve moaned at the sight, and Bucky just grinned.

“Were you a bit jealous that our little darlin’ was getting all of my oral skills? Cos it sounded that way.” Bucky wrapped his hand around Steve and rubbed his thumb in the puddle of his spit, smearing it as far as he could reach. “You know all you gotta do is ask, punk.” He slowly started to move his hand up and down, and Steve gasped, his long eyelashes kissing his cheekbones in a way you thought should have been illegal.

“Buck…”

“Got a question for me, Stevie?”

You repressed a smirk. You loved it when Bucky got a little cheeky, a little dominant with Steve. You didn’t know why, but seeing Steve in a more submissive position always got you a bit hot and bothered. You weren’t naturally dominant in a bedroom setting, but every so often you got the itch. Today, however, you were happy to watch and go where your boys led you.

“Bucky… please…” Steve was going whiny now and it made you shiver in anticipation.

“You need my mouth on you, blondie? Need my tongue to drive you wild? Then you gotta ask. Ask for where you want me.”

Bucky tightened his grip, drawing another gasp from Steve as he tried to form words.

“I… want you to eat me, Buck. Please!”

Bucky smiled. “Now, was that so hard, Stevie? Hands and knees for me, big boy.” He let go of Steve’s cock so he could roll, and then shifted his gaze to you. “Need you to slide under, darlin’, and give that beautiful cock of his the love it deserves.” You smiled back and shimmied yourself into position, not being able to resist the urge to lick right over his tip, and taste his musky, salty essence.

“Cali, Bucky - You’re killing me.” A glance revealed his trembling forearms as he anticipated the pleasure to come.

“Oh, baby, we ain’t even started yet.” Those were the last coherent words you heard from Bucky for a while, as he pushed Steve’s thighs wider apart and leant forward. Your own position didn’t allow for much of a viewing angle, but the sound that left Steve’s throat and the small flex of his hips let you know when Bucky had started his second round of tongue gymnastics. You shifted again and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, and started your own task.

“Oh… fuck. Fuck!”

You suckled and swirled your tongue and attuned your ears to the whimpering coming from Steve and the lewd, slurping sounds emanating from somewhere behind him. You could see the tension in Steve’s body, the tendons and veins in his arms all pronounced, his abs clenching and relaxing. You moved your hand up to his balls, cupping them gently and massaging them, before pressing your fingers against the spit slick patch of skin just behind them, rubbing over his prostate from the outside as Bucky tongue-fucked Steve’s hole and you tormented his cock with your own tongue.

Steve was breathing heavily, desperately trying to hold back, but he was fighting a losing battle. He might have stamina and determination, but Bucky and you were more determined. When his legs started to tremble along with his arms, you readied yourself, hollowing your cheeks and pressing your tongue onto the fat vein on the underside of his cock. He came with a shout, spurting thick ropes of cum into your mouth with such force some seeped out around your lips and ran down your cheek.

“C-Cali… you need to move…” Steve’s voice was strained, but you heard him, and letting his cock fall from your mouth, you shifted out from under him so he could collapse forward onto the bed. He turned his head to look at you as he regained his breath, eyes wide and glassy as after-shocks of pleasure darted through his body.

You looked over to where Bucky had come back up onto his knees. His eyes were black with lust, his face shiny and wet from a combination of your juices and his own saliva. You spread your thighs and held your arms open as he knee-walked across the expanse of the bed and pressed his weight down on you. He licked the errant drops of Steve’s cum off your face before kissing you passionately.

“Want you to fuck me, Bucky. I need you.”

“I know, doll. I know. Need you too. Need you both.”

It took only a moment for Bucky to line himself up, and then he was being enveloped by you. Your fingernails scratched at his shoulders and you cried out. 

The mattress shifted beside you, and you turned to find that Steve had moved closer. He kissed you, hard and deep as Bucky fucked into you at a steady pace. Unlike when he���d been eating you out, it was clear that Bucky wanted this to last. He knew how to angle himself to caress your g-spot and hasten your orgasm, but he wasn’t doing it, at least not yet. He wanted you aroused and desperate. The teasing bastard.

Steve pulled his lips from yours and leant across to Bucky, whispering something in his ear as he pressed kisses to the brunette’s jaw line. Bucky’s eyes twinkled and suddenly he flipped, rolling onto his back and taking you with him, his hands firm on your hips, finger tips digging in and likely to leave small marks of possession for you to look at in the mirror later. Steve leant over the side of the bed, rifling around in the pile of discarded clothes for something, before he moved up behind you, between Bucky’s now spread thighs his feet planted flat as he thrust upwards into your wet heat.

Steve pressed his firm body up against your back, and you could feel that his cock had recovered; you’d always been in awe of his stamina and recovery speed. His hands, with fingers long and slim, skimmed down your side and covered Bucky’s, helping to move you a-top him.

“This is how it should be, isn’t it? This just feels right, the three of us here, like this. The pair of you are so beautiful, and fuck, if I don’t just want to spend the rest of my life watching you.” His hands slid back up to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between thumb and forefinger, and you gasped, your head leaning back on his shoulder, his ocean blue eyes mesmerising you. “Fuck! I love you both so much.” He kissed you, messily, and then pushed you down towards Bucky, who took over the kisses. 

Steve cupped the globes of your ass, jiggling the soft flesh and pulling on them, watching Bucky’s cock, now copiously covered in your cream, slide in and out of your pussy.

“Bucky’s filling you up so much, but how would you like to be fuller?” The fingers on one hand shifted and brushed over your tight rear hole, making you shudder and clench down. Bucky groaned into your mouth and then tore his lips from yours.

“Do that again, punk. She liked it.”

“Of course she did, she’s our beautiful, dirty girl.”

He curled over your back and pushed his thumb into Bucky’s mouth. The engineer sucked on it eagerly before letting it go, only for Steve to rub it over the ring of muscle.

“Oh God…” It felt so deliciously taboo.

There was some rustling, followed by the sound of a packet being torn open, and then you felt cold lube being drizzled over your asshole. Steve pressed his thumb against you again, smearing the lube, and pushing the tip of  it inside. 

Both Bucky and Steve had fucked your ass before, but never like this, with one of them already stuffed deep inside your pussy. You were 30% anxious, but 70% eager, and lay down flatter on Bucky, spreading your knees even wider to ready yourself. Your fingers clung to Bucky’s shoulders as he rocked gently under you, allowing you to concentrate on what Steve was doing.

With a little more pressure, his thumb tip popped into your ass, and he gently fucked it in and out. When you heard him chuckle, you realised that you were already moving your hips to help him along.

“Ready for more, sweetheart?”

“Please!”

Steve carefully pulled his thumb from you, and you let out a whimper of disappointment, despite knowing that the empty sensation wouldn’t last for long. He applied a bit more lube and then slid his index finger, slimmer but longer than his thumb, inside of you. He only pumped it a few times before you felt him add a second finger. The pair of them, combined with Bucky in your pussy, were making you feel so very full, and a bit light headed. Bucky pressed kisses to your brow and petted your hair, still moving softly.

“That’s it, darlin’. Just relax and let Stevie in.”

You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his thick and hairy chest, and then let out a gasp as Steve added a third finger.

“You can’t come yet, Cali. You gotta wait until I’m inside you. Need to feel you squeezing us both. Can you do that for me?”

Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you bit at your lower lip, the sensations so overwhelming already. “Hmm-hmm.”

Steve growled at your noise of agreement.

“I need a colour from you, baby. I need words.”

You dragged a ragged breath into your lungs, trying to get your brain to work.

“G-green, Stevie. So green.”

“Good girl.”

His fingers left you, but were swiftly replaced by the head of his cock. You urged your body to relax as he pushed in. You keened, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you felt fuller than you’d ever felt in your life.

“Fuck!” You let out your exclamation as Steve bottomed out within you with a grunt. Bucky’s hands slid up and down your sides in a soothing motion.

“You good, darlin?”

“Peachy, Buck. I just need a moment.”

You took a few seconds to process how you were feeling. Warm, full, but overall, loved. Bucky had already felt this, connected to you and Steve so intimately, and Steve also to some extent. You’d even had your own little ‘taste’ of this, but what you were doing now was so very different, and while not totally overwhelming, it was still A Lot ™. Your whole body throbbed and you realised that you were on a hair trigger, so close to coming, but annoyingly still too far away.

A little whimper escaped your lips, and you tentatively moved your hips, making the boys shift inside you. All three of you gasped.

“Fuck, Stevie. I can feel you inside her. Cali, please, can we move? I need to move!” Bucky had threaded the fingers of your right hand with his left, and you looked at the tattoos that decorated his arm. 

“Yes. Please. I need you both to love me.” You turned your head to look over your shoulder at Steve, who smiled gently down at you, and then moved his right hand to cover yours where it held Bucky’s, joining you all together in another way, and one that felt more poignant.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. Not a problem.”

Steve started to move first, small, experimental thrusts that pushed you onto Bucky and filled you to the brim with both of them, and you couldn’t help but start to move yourself, helping to control the pace. The feeling was so strange inside you, feeling them both moving, but in different directions and in different places, but as you got used to it, as you all got used to it, you all became more frenetic. Bucky kissed your mouth; Steve dusted your shoulders with his own lips, and all you could do was get carried away on the pleasure. It rolled through you in waves, cresting and dipping, but never quite ever disappearing. You could feel the wetness seeping out of you around Bucky’s cock and dripping down onto his crotch. You could hear the lewd sounds from where Steve was plunging in and out of your ass, his body curled over your back. Sweat rolled down your body and your legs and arms shook from your near continuous orgasm.

Bucky came in you first, his movements getting faster and more uncoordinated, so Steve held still, to give him room to do so, hips snapping up into your spasming cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Cali! Steve!”

Steve lent further over you, pushing you down onto Bucky, so he could kiss him over your shoulder. It was awkward and a bit messy, but you loved hearing Bucky whine into Steve’s mouth as continued to fill your pussy.  As Bucky regained his breath and composure, he held you tight to him, letting Steve have the chance to find his own end within the tight embrace of your body. He was feral, fingers gripping your hips hard, adding a second set of marks to match the ones Bucky had placed on you earlier.

“You’re mine. Both of you. Love you both so goddamn much. Oh fuck, yes!” 

The feeling of his hot cum filling your ass, along with the whole filthiness of this session of loving with your boys, triggered one last orgasm in you as you lay sprawled on Bucky. Steve collapsed over you, although he took some of his weight on your arms. You liked the feeling of being a bit squashed between them. You all exchanged soft gentle kisses to wherever you could reach.

Eventually though, you all needed to move. Steve rolled off of you in one direction and you rolled off Bucky in the other. You turned your head to look at your dark haired lover.

“I definitely approve of this bed, Bucky. 10 out of 10. But I hope you’ve got a lot of spare sheets for it.” You looked pointedly at the wet patch that had formed around and under him. “And a lot of mattress protectors.”

“Ever the practical one, ain’t ya, darlin’?”

You chuckled, and Steve snorted.

“One of us has to be, and it ain’t you or me, jerk.”

Bucky reached out for one of the pillows and launched it towards Steve’s head.

“Speak for yourself, punk.”

You rolled your eyes in affectionate dismay, before pushing yourself up and off the bed. You sashayed towards the en-suite, eager to clean the cum from your body, but stopped in the doorway and looked coquettishly over your shoulder.

“I’m going to try out the shower. First one to find me a towel gets to join me. The other get’s to start changing the sheets.”

You smiled as you walked into your new bathroom and pushed the door mostly closed, listening to the sounds of scrabbling and friendly rivalry from the other side.

You were home.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida

[secretly-a-catamount]

(@ashpkat I finally started working on this again.)

  “I don’t suppose you have a plan to sit through an interview for the Daily Planet, do you, Mr. Hunt?”

  Callum Hunt’s grey eyes flicked to the reporter —  he was right, it was America’s Prodigal Son, their (literal) golden boy Superman, although, of course, in disguise as a regular everyday citizen — and then back to his champagne-filled glass, deciding that after an entire evening of forced social niceties at a gala he hadn’t wanted to host, he, quite frankly, deserved to spit the first rude thing that came to his mind at his . . . he took a long sip of his drink . . . one-sided workplace adversary. “Not from you, Stewart.”

  Aaron, to his credit, simply took the barbed words in stride, pulled out the chair across from Call, and seated himself. His every movement was infuriatingly beautiful and gracefully-inhuman, hell, the man himself was infuriatingly beautiful, he looked perfect, he acted perfect, he was perfect. God, how Call hated him.

  Aaron steepled his fingers together, “Well, I’m the only reporter from the Daily Planet here right now.” He had the audacity to smile. His teeth were as white and straight as he was.

  “So I suppose I just imagined Tamara Rajavi clinging to your arm earlier as you entered the building?” It took Call a moment to find the bronze-skinned woman wearing a camera around her neck and the brightest red dress he’d ever seen. She stood by the punch fountain studying her half-emptied glass as if it where the most interesting thing in the world, although Call thought the behavior had something more to do with fending off the handsy old man she’d just manage to pry away from her body than a genuine interest in crystal glassware.

  “Tamara’s here as a photographer, Jasper called in sick.” Aaron said, following Call’s gaze with his own. His golden brows furrowed.

  “Excuse me,” he got up from the table hastily, leaving his notebook and pen behind. “I have to go . . . help her before she punches someone.”

  He wove through the crowd of people easily, as if it were second nature, as if he had grown up inside the rings of Gotham’s high society instead of on a farm in rural Kansas. Call’s eyes lingered on the other man’s retreating back longer than he wanted to admit, thoughts tumbling through his head, before he forcefully turned his attention back to the table and the champagne in his hand. Call sucked in a hissing breath at the sight of black ink spilling from the pen Aaron had left uncapped, staining the pristine white tablecloth. He grabbed the pen, and then, after a moment of reflection, dragged the notepad over to him as well.

———————————————————————

  When Aaron had finally returned, Tamara Rajavi trailing in his wake, he’d found his pen capped and set in an emptied champagne glass, the cotton tablecloth splattered with dry ink, and a series of paragraphs scribbled across yellowing paper in a tight, looping scrawl. The reporters had mingled some more, gathered their things, and then left, Tamara driving, Aaron studying the handwritten papers.

  “Well,” Tamara said, “at least we know he’s still a dick.” She took a quick swig of her lemonade. “On the clock as a superhero or not.” Lounging on Aaron’s rickety couch, heels discarded, blood-red dress with its plunging necklace exchanged for an old t-shirt and soft shorts, hair unbraided, and eyes halfway closed, she looked very comfortable. Aaron was glad for his friend, even if he wished he could feel some of the same solace.

  “I thought he was remarkably civil.” Aaron responded, posture knife-straight as he typed into his word processor. The dim light blurred across his face in the otherwise dark room.

  “You would.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know, have you looked in a mirror lately? Your Mr.-Goody-Two-Shoes. You like everyone, even when you shouldn’t.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, Superman.” Her words were slurred, sleep dragging her down into its embrace.

[dreamteez-story]

MIST [I] - Snow Moon | An Ateez Story Chapter 2

~Raina~ Four kingdoms in total had allied. Each of them represented a season and associated with it was ancient magic. However, many years ago this power was abused. So many had to pay with their lives, that the four kingdoms decided to banish all magic and magical artifacts so that this tragedy could never happen again. 

Arlune, the land of winter, was chosen to take care of the last magical artifacts. It had always been imbued with this magic, which was older than anything that had come before and was considered the origin of all things. Known for her calm nature and wisdom, almost all realms had voted for Arlune as the guardian of magic.

Since the beginning of time, Vulnox, the Empire of Autumn, had been known as the home of the dragons. When the land was still filled with magic, humans lived in peace with them. At least that's what they thought, because no one had seen a dragon in generations. Nevertheless, people still tell stories, sagas, and legends of the mighty creatures of fire, which continue to burn in the hearts of the inhabitants.

Praedis, the radiant spring, was known for its equally blooming spirit. Mythical creatures and the most beautiful flora and fauna of all realms were united here. No one could escape this beauty. The people and their culture have since been highly valued for their honesty, and no other kingdom has produced such talented healers. However, one should not be deceived by first impressions. 

The last of the kingdoms, Calmen, was characterized by eternal summer. There was little that these people feared. They let their bravery and courage guide them. Some of the most talented knights came from there and the wealth of their country far exceeded that of the others. The royal family's castle alone was hard to beat in terms of splendor. However, this idealism also brought difficulties. In the past, misunderstandings had already arisen, especially with Arlune, because, despite their qualities, they were not chosen to protect the magical artifacts. The last kingdom also provided the occasion for an early gathering of all the kingdoms in Arlune. The engagement of Prince Jongho of Calmen to Princess Aurora of Arlune guaranteed a bond of peace between the realms. 

~Aurora~ "Aurora, you should show your best side when you go and greet him."

Her mother's cold voice not only interrupted the silence but she pushed her elbow into her side. Aurora straightened her back and her eyes focussed on the nearing carriage. It was orange with gold details and in front, you could see two beautiful dark brown horses. The mane of the horses was in a beautiful honey-blond. A golden sun was on the centerpiece right in front of the carriage and under it, she could see their family crest. Calmen, the everlasting sunshine and home of her own mother. She never saw her mother like one of the Calmen women and she never talked about her growing up as noble women there. Aurora always tried to get to know more about the kingdom she knew she would marry into, but her mother always shut her out. So one day she stopped asking and even now, Aurora had never visited her future second kingdom.

"Of course," she assured her and started moving downstairs. She walked straight up and only people who knew her well enough would notice, that her hands were a little shaky. The princess lifted her skirt a little as she walked down. All her life she had been prepared for this. After the last step, she stopped and looked at the young man who had just got out of the carriage. Wrapped in the same, tame orange and gold, she recognized the familiar face of the man she had been promised to since birth. Jongho smiled when he saw her and bowed his head slightly, while Aurora curtsied a little and only stood up when he had caught up with her the last few meters.

"You look beautiful, Aurora." he greeted her in a soft and calm voice.

It had never been difficult to talk to Jongho. The Prince of Calmen, had never been the problem with this arranged marriage. It was the feud between Winter and Summer that placed an incredibly high burden on the two of them. Maybe that was the reason for both of them to give each other space, a quiet understanding for Aurora had grown up knowing that she could not marry for love, as there was this underlying antipathy between their two peoples and they both had to alleviate it.

"You too. I hope your travels went well?"

She meant what she said, even though he knew that she knew only too well that from now on every step they took together would be watched. And they did, at this moment his parents and younger sister left the carriage and she greeted them formally. Aurora showed her best side, played the role that her birth had imposed on her and finally linked arms with Jongho, with whom she walked back up the stairs to the courtyard. ~Raina~ At the thought of seeing Aurora again after many moons, Raina's mood brightened. But not only would they see each other again after so long; their third friend, Princess Jiska of Praedis, was also expected, which made the thought of the endless formalities of the evening more bearable. She had been close friends with both women since childhood and had spent a lot of time in their realms.  

Raina reached the walls of the castle and made her way to the royal stables in the courtyard, directly through the garden in front of it. From a distance, she saw a person behind a hedge, who was taking care of its shape, and a smile crossed her face. She pulled the heels back and signaled Onyx to speed up. Just before the hedge, she tightened the reins and let him jump over it. When he landed with thundering hooves and, after a curve, was made to rise by Raina, she had to laugh at the sight of the young gardener. He had stumbled in shock, falling directly onto the severed branches and almost into the adjacent fountain. As he looked at her in disbelief, she hid her broad grin behind her hand and pressed her lips together. 

“Excuse me, Hongjoong,” she said, still smiling, while he stood up and knocked the branches off his clothes.  

“If you weren't the princess, I'd have you reported to the king for that,” he replied, serious at first, but then a smile flitted across his features. ''Out so early, are you?'' he asked, stroking the black stallion's large head, which caused its nostrils to flare. ''That very important matter in Arlune is coming up soon, isn't it?'' he asked, and Raina's stomach tightened at his words. She just nodded, and he recognized her reluctance immediately. 

They had known each other since they were children. His family had also served the royal family for a long time. In the past, when his father had still tended the castle gardens, they often played among the flowerbeds under his supervision. For a long time, nothing could separate her and Hongjoong, until they grew older and their connected destiny created a gap between them. She was the princess of Vulnox and he, the gardener's son. Which was not a good starting position for a deeper relationship. This was especially painful for Hongjoong. He found it difficult to hide his feelings for her, and even if Raina knew about them, she could never bring herself to reject him.   

“My mother is probably looking for me already...” Raina sighed and turned her head towards the neighboring chambers. “What would I give to escape all the courtly constraints?” she added, but the young man came around to her side of the horse. He reached for her hand, which was covered by black riding gloves, brought it to his lips, and bowed slightly. 

“Don't worry so much, Raina. I'll be here when you return,” at his words, Raina had to smile and nodded in confirmation. 

“Thank you, Joong.” He released her hand and she wrapped her fingers around the reins. A short tug was enough to steer Onyx in the desired direction. He watched her until she disappeared behind the tall hedges of the castle garden

2023 © written by dreamteez_story [wattpad]

[sorayah2]

━Sensory Lovers| Neteyam x oc FF

@Sorayahluvs on Wattpad, I always post there days before posting on Tumblr!✨ Pls vote there too😘

✠ ┏━━━━━━━━Chapter 3

✩°̥࿐୨୧

Although she didn't say whether she accepted his apology or not, Saraïyah did appreciate the fact that he owned up to his actions despite the reasons he had. He acknowledged his mistake and apologized to her, something that the guys she's used to wouldn't bother doing. They would probably flip her off and she'd cussed them out.

The thought of some shameless creep spying on her with inappropriate intentions made her skin crawl in disgust. If that was truly the case, she would've killed him and buried his body deep under the ground. Then happily move on with her life. Who was going to find out when they were all by themselves? The creatures? Please.

But why didn't she take that action? Why did she allow him the luxury of hearing what she assumed would be pathetic nonsense as his justification?

Interestingly, it was his eyes.

His pure golden eyes, a perfect shade of yellow, and the most enchanting details she had ever seen in her entire life held her small reflection. Radiant and distinct.

The villagers often say that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. Like body language, the eyes say more than words ever could. The eyes can tell a lot about someone's emotional state. They don't lie. They show the truth, no matter what face they put on. By looking into the eyes of an individual, one can see their hidden emotions, attitudes, and thoughts.

She sees him.

She was able to read his emotions through those eyes. Even if she didn't want to believe him, he was telling the truth.

That intense eye contact snapped something inside that she never knew existed, which left her speechless and confused.

She was leading the way and Neteyam was following closely behind her, he skipped to be right beside her. Being taller than her required him to look at her from a lower angle.

"So, what's your name, Princess?"

Her ears perked up at the nickname he had just called her. Why would he even think to casually address her as such? And why does her entire body keep getting triggered by these weird sensations? It was a simple word that strangely flutters her heart and makes her feel like millions of Shimmyflies are dancing around in her belly.

Nicknames are normal between her and her friends. She shouldn't have been in any way affected by it. But his was different; it sent shivers down her spine.

Odd and unfamiliar. These confusing feelings, which still linger, had begun earlier. When she had him pinned against a tree with a knife to his throat. One wrong move sealed his fate.

He's too composed for a man who nearly lost his life.

Neteyam even surprised himself and didn't know why he said it. It slipped out. Either way he didn't mind and will continue calling her that.

Brushing her wavy wet hair off her shoulder, she replied. "Saraïyah, or Saïyah for short."

"Saraïyah." He repeated her name slowly at a low volume, paused for about two seconds, and then smiled genuinely while continuously staring at her. "It's beautiful, definitely suits you."

There's that feeling again.

"Thanks, what's yours?" She avoided Neteyam's gaze in the hopes that he wouldn't be able to see her tainted cheeks.

He did notice, and decided not to speak on it. At least for now.

"Neteyam Sully."

She, finally, raised her head to face him and asked, "The sixth Toruk Makto's oldest son?"

"You heard about me? I didn't know I was that popular. That's awesome-"

"Hold your tail, your parents are the legends, not you buddy. I only heard about you once." She diminished his enthusiasm, while thinking back to a random night. Although the memory was hazy, she can still recall portions of it.

"Buzzkiller." He playfully nudged her.

Snorting with a small smirk, she did the same to him. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,"

"You interrupted me."

"Be quiet, you." She hushed him, "As I was saying, I'd watch my back with Aonung if I were you mr 'Perfect' child. He despises you."

Saraïyah is certain that Aonung won't be hesitant to express his enduring hostility whenever he has the chance.

He noted the irony in her tone when she referred to him as 'Mr. Perfect.'

Neteyam raised an eyebrow, " Why though? I've only met him today."

Aonung having yet another unspoken hatred towards him was baffling. He was aware of the guy's resentment and annoyance when his father asked him to help him and his siblings adjust to the reef lifestyle.

"Well, his dad did compare him to you a few years ago. He was going on and on about how impressed he was with your achievements at a young age. I guess Aonung got hurt and jealous, so since then you've been dead to him."

"Really? Damn, no wonder he's acting like a jerk towards my siblings and I."

"That's how he is, a real jerk." A very annoying one she wishes she could beat up with a stick every single day.

When she spotted some Yovo bushes she moved towards them, signaling him to follow.

The bushes have large tufts of green leaves at the top and clusters of Yovo fruits underneath the leaves, and the purple fruit itself is small enough to fit several of them onto the palm of a Na'vi hand.

She started collecting the leaves and the fruits. "He just wants his father to recognize him. But, I suppose you do have to live up to yours too, don't you?"

"Yeah." Neteyam slowly nodded as he assisted her. "I kinda relate to him on that part."

"I feel for you guys, honestly. It must be a nightmare, constantly trying to prove your worth with all of those expectations and standards. That all sounds exhausting. I'd rather sleep."

He chuckled, "Right, it's fortunate and unfortunate. My parents don't exactly force them upon us...It's more like a self-obligation for me. I mainly want to set an example for my siblings and help them."

Neteyam cares greatly for his siblings, he supports them all so they can shine and succeed. To him, they're special and amazing in their own way.

"Don't mind me asking, why would your family come here when you have your own land? Did you get kicked out of your clan?"

"No, it was our choice. The guy my dad fought and my mom killed in the past is somehow back from the dead, and now he's after us for revenge. Dad decided that we should escape and hide among a different tribe. Our escape would also protect the rest of our tribe since they are the primary target for him."

He gave a brief explanation of the situation, including how it all began and how it should have ended. But fate says otherwise. Given that this is his family's business, he kept it to a minimum. She's still a stranger at the moment.

"You said that man is obsessed with tracking and capturing your father and that his cruelty has no bounds, where do you think the Metkayina clan will stand if he manages to reach our villages?" She pressed the matter.

Saraïyah was neither gullible nor clueless; she easily caught on to the dilemma. The Sully's understandably ran away on their own and with their tribe's favor, but by coming here, they also brought danger to another tribe, who are not in war or direct conflict with those Sky people personally. The people would undoubtedly fall victim to that man's cruelty, meaning that even if they are innocent, they may lose their lives.

Tonowari's sympathy for the family wasn't unexpected; what's surprising is Ronal herself complied. Saraïyah wasn't opposed to their decision, to say the least, she probably would've accepted them as well. She's naturally concerned about their safety, especially the children.

"We'll stay and fight." Neteyam stated with assurance and confidence.

However, despite their arms' strength and hearts' bravery, they will not be able to repel the determined assault without suffering fatalities. That was something he was conscious of.

"Is that so. There's not much of a choice, is there." She simply said this and looked further ahead of them.

Neteyam was about to respond when Saraïyah suddenly gasped, her jaw dropping.

"Oh my Eywa."

"What? What is it, what's wrong?" He scans the area, trying to figure out what startled her.

"Shh, come on." She dragged him behind the bushes.

"See that over there?" He looks at where she was pointing to, nodding.

"A Slinth? If it attacks, we can just kill it."

He reached for his knife but she intervened, shaking her head.

"Helloo? We're not gonna do such a thing. It's sleeping, we mustn't disturb it. I want you to be as stealthy as you can so we don't end up as the next course meals."

Neteyam shrugged, his idea is more reasonable. "Yes, ma'am."

Eywa and luck are on vacation, while unlucky was having a satisfying field day with two teenagers who thought their stealth skills were useful against the sharp predator and are currently regretting their live decisions.

The cunning creature had long been awake; it sensed the free meals from miles away and pretended to still be asleep. Until it needs to feed, it spends the majority of the day sleeping in the forest. When this occurs, it is among the fastest land predators on Pandora and is known for injecting its prey with a powerful poison before devouring them alive.

Once they moved close enough, the Slinth jumped to attack with an opened mouth and claws. Thanks to Neteyam's rapid reflex as he quickly grabbed a branch and swung, the Slinth was launched into the air and struck a tree. Right away, he started dragging Saraïyah after him as they ran in a different direction.

The Slinth screamed in agony and became enraged. Its speed was less effective because of the discomfort, but it was unaffected by this.

Unlike the previous occasion, Saraïyah is not being saved by her aunt. Back then, she was sad that the creature died despite the traumatic event she experienced. Now, deep down, she wished she had listened to Neteyam's proposition.

Gut-wrenching, heart pumping-after several thrusts forward, her legs started hurting, but she couldn't slow down. She was running so fast that she thought her legs were going to explode. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins as she forces her legs to push harder, anticipating the relief of lying in her warm bed if they escape this mess.

"I think this is the waterfall!" Neteyam said through sharp breaths. He's still holding her hand securely in his.

Saraïyah heaved out a long relieved sigh.

The waterfall was another option for them to return because it is partially connected to the ocean. Compared to the alternative route they were travelling, it does take longer.

Finally, they made it to the stony peak of the waterfall, panting from fatigue. They gaze back toward the Slinth as it draws closer, then down at the streaming water.

"You ready for it, Princess?"

They exchanged smirks while looking at one another.

"Heck yeah!"

With both safety precautions and fun in mind, they went for it and plunged off the edge. Saraïyah maintained a perfect form and pointed toes, while Neteyam had a much more laid-back attitude to the whole thing, having to perform multiple flips and twists from the spectacular heights.

All they could hear during the loud and exciting trip was the constant boom of water pounding into the stream and their screams. Plus, the bubbly rush of being one with the falls. The harsh smash landing that a several-foot fall may have caused was softened by the swirling water at the base of the waterfall.

"That was insane!"

"And dangerous!"

Plunging into a cool, fresh, tropical waterfall pool is one of the most exhilarating experiences imaginable for the two. Saraïyah never imagined herself engaging in such activities with a boy she had just met and had been threatening not long ago, on a random day like this.

This isn't a place that she often comes to, she was spending time with her Ilu and the scenery simply captured her attention. She planned on swimming for a short while and then possibly collecting weaving materials on the way home.

Never expected to be chased by a deadly beast.

Never expected to even cross paths with this Omaticaya Na'vi. And him saving her.

Obviously, she wouldn't stand by and let that Slinth kill her and carry on with its life or the next prey, just because she has it in her to oppose violence against creatures. She could have undoubtedly defended herself in some way if she had been alone, and if push came to shove, she would've set her merciful heart aside.

But in any case, Saraïyah was rather impressed by his rapid control of the situation. To a certain extent.

"You okay there, Princess?" Her wavy, dispersed hair was sticking to her face and blocking her eyesight, which made him chuckle amusingly.

"Not funny Skxawng," She scolds him, smiling as she fixes her hair.

That smile.

Her smile is so contagious to him.

"I'm fine, kinda bummed out about my materials, they're all soaked and ruined." She pursed her lips into a slight pout.

"Look on the bright side, at least we survived." He glanced up, finding out that the creature was gone. "Do you wanna try another spot? I'm sure that beast is still lurking near."

"It's whatever, I'm too tired. I think I'll have time to hunt tomorrow."

He nodded.

Saraïyah made a tongue-clicking noise, calling out to her Ilu.

The Ilu are social by nature, smart, and easy to domesticate. Like direhorses serve the Na'vi clans of the forests, jungles, and plains, it serves the reef clans, particularly the Metkayina. They can be found in groups close to the settlements of oceanic Na'vi clans and are as common in the ocean as Ikrans are in the sky.

"I still can't believe we just did that. My veins are shaking."

"I've jumped from taller ones." He spoke of it as if it were a simple and normal activity.

"I could tell, showoff." She playfully rolled her eyes.

Neteyam smirked. "We should go for another round."

"Absolutely not, I'm never doing this again." She waved him off.

Saraïyah spotted her Ilu swimming at full speed in their direction, her eyes lit up. Chichi emerged from beneath the waves to the surface in a dramatic entrance. Circling Saraïyah was what she first did.

"Hey Stargirl!" Her smile grew.

The creature was only concerned about whether Saraïyah suffered from any injuries.

"We're alright, don't worry." Saraïyah reassured her and petted her skin to alleviate her anxiety.

Chichi's a creature of rare beauty, adored by her Saraïyah.

Unlike an ikran, Ilu do not develop individual bonds with riders, so a skilled rider can mount any ilu that has been familiarized with the kuru bond. Chichi chose Saraïyah solely as her bond; hence, that fact didn't apply to them.

Saraïyah turned to Neteyam, "This is Chichi, she's my big spoiled baby."

"Hi Chichi," He greeted her.

Chichi slapped her tail against the water in response, splashing him in the face.

He wiped his face and said, "I guess I didn't pass her vibe check."

"Quite the opposite, actually, she thinks you're handsome. She'd bite you if you didn't." Like she always does to Aonung and Rotxo. And Saraïyah couldn't agree more with that statement.

"Oh yeah? Are you speaking for her or through her?" Neteyam swam a little bit closer, taking pleasure in the reddening of her cheeks as she realized what he meant.

"It's her opinion!" Saraïyah gasped, and mentality cursed herself for how hyper her voice sounded.

"Sure, thanks Chichi." He spoke to Chichi while maintaining eye contact with the flustered girl next to her.

"You're such a tease!"

He shrugged, smirking.

"Argh! Let's take his ass back to the village, Stargirl. I'm sure your parents are worrying sick while their eldest son is over here acting like a playboy."

After they bonded, Saraïyah climbed onto the creature's back.

"That was so flexible."

"Boy I'll leave you behind if you don't stop talking and get on." She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest, earning Neteyam's attention there for a fleeting second.

He hummed, doing as she says.

Saraïyah advised him to hang on to her since Chichi swims however she pleases in order to prevent him from sliding off. He hesitated to touch her waist, which she recognized, but she assured him that she didn't mind.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

A/n; I feel like the more I write the more it takes for me to update, I don't wanna rush the story, but I also don't wanna take too long to update. I think I need some sort of deadline like updating after 100 reads...idk omggg y'all!!

Comment. Vote. Share♡

[libidomechanica]

“Let in the red mans hand”

Roared before the wide wings, streaming.     Let in the red man’s hand. If by traduction can’t recur.     Drop by, and no blood curdled in feeling myself, and Stellaes     eyes survey’d the childlike into the grove, nor wish’d there’s     ne’er err’d, nor over-

anxious care. Away from the Arrows     that the echoes, dying, drilling,—for deeming frown. And     storing its wall; and stormed at the Elysian lawns, whereto     all those that others. The cost would be about witche: and     the world uplifts its spirit

in my own nostrils, should bar     him off to thee did make. But, ah, she gazing out an hour,     and, withouten lincks of love resides all contractor’s feet;     and what is lost the western skies. Reality, nor seemed     and I will not. He was

free to confident confusion,     and Stella is? When bells forth into universary,     a dove, my love and more on your early June, I to her     mammie’s wark, and gay: but death is six days long. Ties? Arose     and grow for ever. And

so last night and cared nothing air.     Penny that beneath and mouth? I stammered that way, he     sate by the third, in columns, with which starts; the Mamma Mia’s!     The ghost at least word, thinke you are a hard one to wake me.     When I inhale, smoke

occupied by fens. Come away dyd     wype. Till a morbid hate and bye The Shah beheld them proper     tone came out above us the waves of pearl makes sense,     to gratify, like Orpheus, from a grey churches; ’ there     was not Wisdom in Himself

had trod Sicilian fold,     his sheep, his hands, and wilt thou shepheards quill. To see a woman     climbs a peak to gaze o’er land and were accustom’d, as     a snowflake in love, my daily fires; the loved you, a million—     drawered cherries

pluck’d fresh as a rose her wishes     went! Part of a grave united by the innocence, as     common soldiers have left alone. Winds howling, will have come     away, children do in the weighs that her warlike mind, my     flashy acrobatics

with wives. Full in myself a motley     to their engineering slang, nor willing fetters—the     chains of your face was shed upon my face turns toward his world.     Sweet bells forth everywhere, confused by yourself would not vary,     is constable, table-

cloth and sees with his flute his     fires, those powers voted the aire: This life was one-and-twenty     I heard your warmly lit house of Amundeville,     and snowy summits old in store, to hinder the other     when the dances at a

leap; on whom pale as it was ashamed     of successful too; winning postures, couched no soul nor     boundless rue. Below my chin, she taught me Turn, and he did     sip, and laughs at thy birth I owe nobler seat then? The lightly     slake the first i’ th’

flower and being best     acquaintance mad March greater than she will went on in prepares     thro’ the bath-house love killer, I am murderous and     hath weand my comen trade, to crown thin, produce the lea; but     the old ladies, who fondly

laid, and tempting love. Along     the Noble Nature keep me alive has seizes warrior     maid invincible, arm’d with music. Nor ought delightest     ground at first ye were not talked, the right and trip when I did     strive to her colour vade

of fire, mortals he is gone, I     could not join them think on. Ho, and all in an houre sincerest     who are strong as that rivers. If Lucy hould breaking     of Empire, nor any mortal in a single shade     of love. At barn or byre

thou dar’st, all adieu! Meantime, her     make one dumb, yet leave my whimsies; but thoughts in a stare; and     crowne her golden dreams of glory and grace for it alone.     Tingle on the weather— still drink my answered nothing, but     with a mobile nose she

moved among us, learnt, for thou     art my wit or ward, was he, that’s great expanse and in your     death is gone down, I wak’d, she did sit or walke; how cloth’d; how     waited but thou wage mute! Waking no summers could reach the     pause I live and losse of

death. And bristling tier, forty feet     to where falls short; and see the pikes, or wait the Amen, ere     the spot where, and this you can find none! Ye goatherd gods, that     I lo’e thee with awful echoes, answers the palms. He gaed     wi’ Jeanie to the drunken

king to brawl at Shushan     underneath thy tongue for what will not dead; would them were still my     argument; so all men may be named by your hands we took     up an older friend, like that ancient Rome or Greece, whose deny,     my love immortal

mesh and lonely for his toilet,—     which of nicety, where you go. By those who rarely seen,     and beat, night-long with various nations; the Head, her back     to me. So that thou Lost in you, not lost it to you.     Sighing she spoke: like men!

[denalilily]

Perhaps We Should Settle This With A Dance Off: an AU breaking dawn crack fic oneshot

"Look, I'm not asking you to fight for us. All we need is to buy some time so that the Volturi will hear what we've got to say." Carlisle reassured the strange group of friends from different periods of his life, all standing together in his pale wooden living room, staring doubtfully at him. How strange life sometimes was.

"It will come to a fight. I can not see how you possibly plan to avoid that, Carlisle." Vladimir was the first to speak, his nonchalant tone somewhat diminished by the expectant smirk on his face.

Eleazar rolled his eyes and took a step forward, addressing the room. "We all know you cannot wait for an excuse to throw hands with the Volturi, but the rest of us still hold on to hope that it will not come down to that. I've seen his guards at work, I know their potency and what they can do. In a fight against the Volturi, we would be less than useless."

"Is there no hope, then?" Tanya asked, turning her amber eyes over to her brother and then to Carlisle.

"There is always hope." Carlisle said soothingly, putting an arm on her shoulder.

"Like Carlisle said, all we need is a distraction to get them to listen. They'll be coming to fight, not to hear us out. We need to throw them off their guard." Edward spoke out, standing up from his armchair and feeling important. He suddenly turned his head to Garrett, standing at the door with his arms crossed and a spark gleaming in his eyes. Edward let out a laugh of surprise and amusement, shaking his head slightly while smiling. "You know, that actually might be just what we need. Something unexpected, indeed!" He chuckled again.

Emmett looked from his brother's face to Garrett's, growling in frustration. "I hate it when he does that," he muttered to Benjamin, who was standing at his side. Edward whispered something in Carlisle's ear, and his face lit up with amusement and delight to match his son's.

"Brilliant, Garrett. That's exactly what will get them to stop and buy us some time." He wanted to burst out laughing in relief and amusement, but didn't want to make the faces staring between him, Edward and Garrett look even more confused and frustrated. Carlisle composed himself and turned to his patriotic friend. "Tell them about your plan, old friend." He said, still grinning.

Garrett stepped forward, looking around the room solemnly to demonstrate the importance of this moment. "May I offer an idea to be considered?" He declared, waiting a moment to add a dramatic pause between his words. "Perhaps we could avoid, or at the very least delay the fight by breaking into a choreographed dance the moment the redcoats set their eyes on us. It would certainly be unexpected. We would all have to practice, and someone would have to compose the choreography, of course. We still have a few days." His red eyes scammed the room again, to see the reactions on the other vampires' faces as voices began murmuring to each other. "Shall we vote on it?"

Emmett's face broke into a wide grin, and Garrett exchanged a smirk with him before his eyes wandered over to the Denali sisters. He caught Kate's eye, and noticed the michievous hint of a smile on her face, her golden eyes smoldering. She was gorgeous, and he couldn't help but linger his gaze on her. He forced himself to turn to look at the other vampires to see their reaction.

"I vote HELL YES!" Emmett roared, walking over to Garrett and slapping him on the back. Ever since getting here, Garrett had had a good feeling about Emmett, and could see now that he was right. They were going to be great friends, he thought.

One by one, the vampires' hands began to raise, some more hesitant than the others. Siobhan, Benjamin, Esme, Bella, Carmen, Kate, Tanya, Zafrina... Almost everyone seemed to be on board with it. Vladimir and Stefan were the last to raise their hands, their condition being that they would only agree to it if they would be free to gouge the Volturi's eyes from their sockets once it was done.

---------

"Everyone, get in formation! Five, six, seven, eight!" Benjamin shouts, signaling the start by lighting a little flame on his palm.

Tanya and Carlisle hurried to the front of the group in extravagant dance steps as the music blasted.

"Em!" Rosalie snapped, when Emmett started beat-boxing again.

"What?" He asks, a little too innocently.

"If you're going to do that even one more time, I'm stepping out."

"Babe, come on! We'll just look stupid without music!"

Rosalie rolled her eyes affectionately and let the subject drop.

They continued the dance, Rosalie making everyone seem foolish with her own graceful and classical variations of the moves. Some of the others, like Jacob, who kept bursting out in laughter and disrupting everyone, were having a hard time taking this seriously. Carlisle and Tanya, who were supposed to lead the whole thing, were very committed to their part, their faces serious the whole time. The bit ended with everyone stepping forward and snapping their fingers repeatedly and throwing their hands up. Each time they practiced, it ended with everyone freestyling, so Garrett and Carlisle proposed to keep it in the choreography. Zafrina and Senna showed off their moves from an Amazonian war dance, Emmett grabbed Rose's hand and spun her around, Vladimir danced like a robot. Everyone started jumping and moving around like crazy, laughing and having fun. Garrett had forgotten what it felt like, to enjoy the company of other people and have fun with them, as he was sure many of the other nomadic vampires felt as well. He came face to face with Kate, who was laughing as well, and pulled her into his arms, spinning around together in a circle. Caught up in the happiness of the moment, none of them even thought about the reason they were here in the first place, and how much time they might have left to be together.

---------

They stood in an arranged formation on the field. Everyone was in the position they had been practicing in, and now there was nothing left to do but wait. The snow was sticking, and the day had come.

"Our plan may succeed, but then again, it may not. We might as well all die here today, but if that is to be so, let me say one final thing. If I am to die, then I am honored to die dancing by your side." Garrett declared, looking around at the vampires surrounding him. Friends, allies, family.

Carlisle gave his friend a meaningful look, and nodded to acknowledge his words.

"If they decide to attack, then let them come. I am not afraid." Kate said loudly, staring around at the vampires as if challenging someone to disagree. "Hear, hear!" Vladimir approved.

They stared at the forest, and waited as the last seconds passed.

They came with pageantry, with a kind of beauty. Aro was in the very front, leading the formation. Carlisle didn't even need to count them to know that they were outnumbered. They moved slowly, but deliberately, and showed no signs of stopping. Carlisle looked at Benjamin for the signal.

Benjamin held out his palm for everyone to see. A small flame flickered to life, and Garrett knew this was it. It was now or never.

He stepped forward deliberately, making sure the Volturi could hear and see him clearly. "Perhaps we should settle this with a dance-off!" He shouts, and as he feels the movement coming behind him, he steps back to his place at Kate's side.

Carlisle and Tanya took moved forward in steady steps, the others following right behind. Garrett found that once they began, it was impossible to stop, and all his fear evaporated as they continued toward the Volturi, their steps and moves becoming more and more confident. And the Volturi... halted.

Incredulity was the strongest emotion on the leaders' faces, which slowly turned into fury, amusement and indifference on Caius', Aro's and Marcus' faces respectively. And if Garrett hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. The ancient leader stepped forward, breaking out in his own, strange dance moves.

"Stop him!" Caius hissed, his face livid. The guard hesitated, no one brave enough to talk sense into their master. Aro did not stop. One of the guards, a large man, stepped forward beside him, breaking into a freestyle dance. Some of the others followed suit, while most of them took cautious, awkward steps forward as they followed their wild, dancing master to the center of the field.

They met in the center, and when the two dancing sides were close enough to be of talking distance, Carlisle put up his hand and they halted. So did the Volturi.

There was a long pause. Finally, a member of the Volturi guard spoke out.

"Well played, Cullens. Well played."

There was an amused and impressed smirk on his face. His name, Edward read from Eleazar's thoughts, was Demetri. There was a collective wave of relief as they knew now their plan had succeeded. The Volturi would not attack immediately. They had time to explain everything, at least, even if it did come to a battle eventually. Garrett began to felt a spark of hope. They were going to make it. He was not going to die, not today, not when he had finally found something to live for. He bound his arm around Kate, ready for the rest of eternity to begin.

'perhaps we should settle this with a dance off!'

has anyone written a fic with the premise that the Cullens and Volturi actually *did* settle their differences with a dance off?  If so, does anyone have a link?  If not, would anyone be interested in a one-shot with this premise?

[happiest-hotch]

Secrets

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (hurt and comfort)

Word Count: 3.7k

Content Warning: gunshot injury, mention of blood

There had been a debate about who would go and talk to him. Reid counted the pros and cons once they voted him off because they all worried he would launch into the statistics about whether or not she was going to live- statistics that weren't good-

JJ was too upset to be giving counsel and Morgan was on the phone with Garcia, trying to provide her with some comfort- something that was going unsuccessfully.

So that left Prentiss and Rossi, both of which didn't exactly want the job. It's seemingly impossible to offer advice to someone who never needed any, especially when this was easily one of the worst days of his life.

Emily volunteered so that Rossi could go back to the precinct with everyone else and wrap up the rest of the case, another job that was usually left for Aaron.

They could all feel the pain radiating off him as he sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair without moving an inch. Even if he would deny he cared about her more than anyone else, Emily was determined to do something.

"You should change." She told him, handing over a shirt and some dress pants of his that JJ had brought from his go bag once they realized he would not be leaving the hospital.

Aaron didn't move an inch. He stayed sat there with his body hunched over and his elbows resting on his knees, barely acknowledging her. His blue dress shirt was covered in blood, but he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button.

It isn't meant to happen once to someone- being covered in the blood of someone you love- but it's happened to him twice now. Only this time, there was some tiny hope that the woman he loved would get to live and he was between trying to hold on to that hope and preparing himself for what was statistically the most likely outcome.

Aaron didn't even turn his head to look at her, but she could see the shiny tears against his cheek. "Do you know the last time I told her I loved her?" He asked, a question so far out of left field that she couldn't hide the way her mouth dropped open in shock.

"I didn't even know..." She started, unsure how to finish the thought.

"No one did." He cut her off, wondering whether or not the decision was right. If they had come clean with everyone then at least he would have been able to hold her hand in the SUV on the way to the unsub's house.

Emily looked back at where the team had been standing. "Rossi's claiming he did." She countered.

It made Aaron scoff lightly. If they weren't in the hospital and if there wasn't a large chance she was going to die, it might have been sweet for Rossi to insist he knew they loved each other just from the way they looked at each other.

"So...how long?" She asked.

Aaron knew she was trying to distract him, trying to get his mind off a situation he couldn't do anything about, so he played ball. "A year and a half, we live together."

Once again, Emily couldn't stop the shock etched on her features. She had no idea how none of them notice for so long. "Are you going to tell me that story then?"

Summertime in DC not only meant that it was warm in the mornings, but it also meant the sun was up earlier enough that Y/n and Aaron didn't have to wake up in the dark. Instead, once the obnoxious sounding alarm went off, they could open the curtains and the golden light could stream into the bedroom.

"Good morning." He mumbled, his cheek against his pillow so he could look at her while he lay face down on the bed.

"Hey." She replied, cupping his cheek and leaning forward so she can kiss him. It was past odd to see him like this, but occasionally she still thought about when he barely smiled and how lucky she was to see him with a smile and no shirt almost every day.

Aaron couldn't help the smile on his lips when she pulled away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to close the distance that had been created between them in the night.

She stayed laying on her side, placing kisses all over his cheeks while tangling their legs together. "You kinda need to shave." She mumbled, fingers resting on the slight stubble along his chin.

"Heard no complains last night." He reminded her with a cheeky smirk.

"Be quiet." She scolded playfully. Aaron shook his head against the pillow, hair flopping around. In one motion, he turned over onto his back and pulled her on top of him. "We're going to have to get up in a moment, you know?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his waist regardlessly.

He shook his head again, nuzzling into her neck. "No, don't wanna."

"The team needs their leader, Hotchner." She told him, half-jokingly as she pulled back to give him the full effect of a peptalk. "You need to give the people what they want."

That made him laugh, his chest moving her up and down. "I'm all about giving a couple of special people what they want." He remarked, resting their foreheads together while he drew circles against her bare skin.

"So, you're making breakfast then?" She asked, smirking at him.

"I walked right into that, didn't I?" He returned, although he had no problem at all with it.

Y/n nodded, a joyful smile on her face at the little victory. "I would make you, but I actually want to." She decided.

"Then you're always going to be Jack's favorite." He pouted, big brown eyes locked on hers.

"Aw, that's so sad." She said sarcastically, a smile on her lips.

He used the hands that he had at her side to tickle her waist, making her squirm around on top of him while giggling. "Not stopping till you apologize." He declared.

"S-sorry! Sorry, sorry." She squealed out, thrashing around until he stopped. "Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed." She huffed.

"Y/n L/n, I will go again." He cautioned, hands back on her waist again threateningly.

She shook her head. "Not if you want breakfast, you won't."

"Fine, fine." He conceded, holding his hands up.

With one hand, she grabbed both his wrists. "You're in trouble now." She warned, using her other hand to try and tickle him in revenge.

"Sweetheart, I'm not ticklish." He reminded her.

"I'll get you back." She promised, still holding his wrists together. "When you least expect it."

He used how much stronger he was than her to flip them around, so his knee was between her thighs and he was leaning over her. "I can't wait." He whispered in her ear in agreement.

Y/n leaned up to run her hand through his hair. "Don't get too sexy with me, Aaron. Otherwise, there will be no BAU today."

"Don't tempt me." He quipped, getting up off the bed. It was beautiful to see him so relaxed in the mornings, a grin on his face.

Y/n held her hands out so he would pull her up. He did so effortlessly and wrapped his arms tightly around her to hug her. For a minute, they stood like that, Aaron with his head on top of hers, and Y/n with her head buried into his chest.

"I'll shower, and you do breakfast?" He asked, reiterating their plan.

"Mhm." She agreed, leaning up to kiss him before they split and he sauntered off to the ensuite while she went through their bedroom door.

Jack's room was down the hallway in the townhouse they brought and moved into months ago. It would have been nice to have the team helping them; Garcia helping with the decor, Morgan lifting the heavy furniture, Reid to figure out how to get their couch in the small doorway, JJ to provide a friend for Jack, Rossi to bring the celebratory scotch, and Prentiss to bring the snacks. But it didn't work out like that, and they were still happy.

Jack wasn't in his bedroom, but the Captain America covers were perfectly made, so she continued her search down the hall. "Good morning, little man." She greeted him, leaning against the bathroom doorframe as she watched him spit out his mouth full of toothpaste in the sink.

"Not little." He complained, hanging up his toothbrush before getting down off the bathroom stool. "I've grown 4 inches since kindergarten, dad said."

"Well, if you wanna grow some more, then you're going to need some breakfast, big man." Y/n reminded him, following after the 6-year-old as he bounced down the hallway, and to the kitchen.

Jack was already talking about his day and about all the things he was going to do on that particular Tuesday in first grade, and Y/n was listening intently like usual. She always found him interesting, even if he was talking about kid stuff.

"Get on up, partner." She instructed, nodding to the bar stool and walking to the other side of the kitchen island. She opened the fridge, pouring him the glass of apple juice he had every morning while she spoke. "What are you feeling like on this beautiful morning?"

"Pancakes." He cheered, amending his speech when Y/n shot him a look with raised eyebrows. "Pretty please."

She nodded at his request, turning back around to get some more things out of the fridge before she started making the pancakes on the stretch of bench in front of Jack.

"Do you ever feel scared?" Jack asked an out-of-left-field question she was used to getting from him.

Except this question sounded like it could be adjacent to his mom. "Sometimes, but daddy and I are always super safe." She assured him.

He still looked like the cogs of his mind were turning. "Did you know my mom?" There it was, and she wished Aaron was there to help her navigate her answer.

"I didn't." She answered honestly. "But she must have been pretty amazing to make you."

"I still talk to her sometimes," Jack revealed casually.

She was thankful he felt like he could talk about it openly because she never wanted him to feel censored. "That's good, bud. I'm sure she's looking out for you."

"I think she's looking out for Daddy and you, too." He told her.

"It makes me really happy that you think that, Jack. Thank you." She said honestly, feeling a bit teary-eyed at such an early hour of the morning.

As quick as the conversation was there, it was gone, and Jack was talking about his friend's birthday party on the weekend.

She turned to the stove once she finished the mixture. Then Jack giggled just a second before two tight arms were wrapping around her waist.

The shock made her squeal and spin around to hit his shoulder. "Aaron Hotchner." She growled as Jack burst into a fit of giggles. Aaron clearly found it funny too and she could feel his chest move as he chuckled.

"Sorry, sorry." He apologized insincerely with a smile on his face. She couldn't even stay faux mad with him while he held her, strong forearms holding her tightly as he rested his head on top of hers.

The cologne she loved so much was stronger than the smell of pancakes due to how close he was standing. Compared to his dress shirt, tie, and dress pants, she was dressed in only a shirt of his and some of her pajama shorts.

"You better be sorry if you want any of these pancakes." She threatened without any malice as she flipped the last few pancakes.

Aaron let go of her after he kissed her cheek, taking the stack of pancakes and holding them out so Jack could put some on his own plate.

"Thank you, Y/n," Jack said, smiling at her as he tipped strawberries onto his plate.

"Bud, I think that's enough sugar," Aaron told him when he kept tipping the jar out. He pouted a little before continuing to eat his pancakes. The adults stayed on the other side of the bench while they ate, where they could watch each other and Jack.

Their usual morning routine progressed, and Y/n went to take a shower while Jack got dressed and Aaron cleaned up and made him lunch.

"Hey, bud, did you want grapes or an apple?" Aaron asked when Jack walked back into the kitchen, dressed with his backpack.

"Grapes." He answered, sitting down to put his shoes on. "Do you know what I was talking to Y/n about before?" Aaron didn't, and he shook his head while assuming it was something about his school. "Mom." He revealed.

Aaron kept a neutral face while he made Jack's lunch. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Jack assured him, providing more relief than he probably realized. "I think mom would have liked Y/n. She looks after me like mom always did."

"That's very sweet of you, Jack." He replied, a little bit stunned by the little boy and unsure of what to say. "I hope your mom would think that too." He commented, closing the lunch box. and handing it to the little boy. "Come give me a hug."

Jack obliged, wrapping himself around his dad's legs before Aaron picked him up. "What are we doing this weekend?" He asked, his brain already somewhere else when Aaron put him back down.

"You can pick whatever you want. We'll be back by then." Aaron promised, watching as Jack packed his bag.

"The jumpy place." Jack immediately decided.

"Perfect, we'll go that then." He agreed. "I'll go see if Y/n's ready, okay?"

Aaron had half expected her to be finished getting ready by now, considering she wouldn't have washed her hair since she did it the night before and that her go-bag was already packed.

When he got into the bedroom, Y/n was still in the bathroom. "Hey, love, are you alright?"

She looked at the pattern of the tiled deeper than she ever had before as she sat on the countertop. "Yeah, I'm good." She lied, hoping he wouldn't detect it in her voice. "I might drive myself, though. There's something I need to do, and I don't wanna make you or Jack late." It was only sounding more and more like a lie. "I'll bring you coffee."

It was good enough for Aaron, who was slightly frowning as he noticed her go-bag on the bed. "Okay, I'll see you in there then." He decided it was better not to argue when he checked his watch for the time. "I love you." He called out.

Y/n smiled, although she didn't exactly feel like it. "I love you, too. Tell Jack I love him."

Aaron missed almost all of the little details as he retold the story to Emily, still private about their lives even if everyone now knew. "I didn't think... that would be the last time." He said sadly.

"It won't." Emily tried to assure him. Even if she wasn't sure of it herself, she was going to do everything in her power to convince him of it.

"Jack can't-" That thought made him out a hand over his mouth to avoid crying too loudly. "He was young when we lost Haley, young enough he doesn't remember too much of it, but he's 6, almost 7 now, and he's going to understand what it means when she doesn't come home." He rambled a little, revealing how nervous he was.

Emily shook her head firmly. "He's not going. She'll be fine."

"This." Aaron gestured down to the blood drenching the shirt he had been wearing that morning in the kitchen. "Isn't fine. They don't think she'll be fine."

It was his worst nightmare all over again, but this time there wasn't a phone call as a way of a goodbye, this time he had to hold her body before she slipped out of consciousness while her blood poured all over him.

"So the statistics aren't great, but she's Y/n, and she's not going without a fight." Emily reminded him, and he knew that much was true. "She'll be fine, Aaron, and you two can get back to your normal lives." She assured him, using his first name in a seldom occurrence. "Preferably with us involved."

The 10 hours was an excruciating wait, but Aaron knew that with each minute that went on, she was alive so he watched the clock tick with Emily sitting next to him. That whole time he didn't do anything but look at the clock on the wall and think about everything they had together and everything he wanted in the future for them.

The bloody shirt was a constant reminder of her, and every time he looked down he wondered if the last time he touched her would be on the cold concert floor of the basement when he called for a medic and attempted to act professionally.

Finally, the doctor called her name, and he prepared himself for the worst. It flashed in front of his eyes as he walked towards the doctor; crying loudly in front of everyone, pitiful looks on the jet, having to call her family, having to tell Jack when they didn't come back home together, the funeral. Would he even go back to the BAU when it had taken so many people from him?

And then he got told she was okay. Hurt, but alive and going to be able to walk out of the hospital. The doctor explained it all to him and Emily as he walked them to Y/n's room. "The bullet missed any major arteries in her chest, and by some miracle, it didn't shatter her clavicle. Even though she's on lots of pain killers, she's going to be sore when she wakes up."

Wakes up. Because Y/n was going to wake up and they were going to get to live the rest of their lives together. That was the only thing in the world that mattered to him, so much more than the team knowing.

"Agent Hotchner." The doctor stopped him before he went into the door after Emily had stepped away to call the team with the good news. "Did you know?" She asked, turning the clipboard she was holding around to show him something on Y/n's chart.

He had to read it a few times before he realized what it said, and his eyes quickly filled with tears. "No." He replied in a whisper, shaking his head.

The doctor nodded with a little smile. "She should be waking up soon." She informed him, walking away when he finally twisted the knob on the door.

Aaron couldn't believe it when he looked at her in that hospital bed, but he had never been more grateful for trauma surgeons or whatever forces of the universe had made it possible for her to still be here when she was so close to death in his arms.

He sat in the chair next to her bed, finally able to breathe fully into his lungs when he touched her hand, and it was warm. Not as warm as it should be, but much warmer than it had been in the warehouse.

She squeezed his hand first before her eyelids fluttered open. "Hi." He squeaked out, tears already falling down his cheeks. "You're in the hospital." He told her, knowing what it's like to wake up somewhere unfamiliar when you have no idea what's going on.

Her eyes were still getting adjusted to the blaring white walls of the hospital. "What happened?" She asked groggily, pointing to the water in the hopes he'd know to pour her some so she didn't have to waste the words.

He did, and he sprung up to pour her a cup. "You got shot, so badly that they didn't know if you would live."

Y/n drank the water gratefully and tried to adjust on the bed, which was incredibly painful. "The unsub?"

"Dead, and the little girl's okay." He reported back to her and he should have known it would be her main concern. "But don't think about work. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty bad." She answered truthfully, trying to find the remote so she could sit up. "I need a hug." She told him, opening her arms as much as it hurt.

Aaron quickly hugged her as delicately as possible before cupping her cheeks and kissing her gently. "I love you." He told her the one thing he wished he hadn't waited so long to say.

"I love you, too." She replied. "But there is something I need to tell you."

Aaron tried to act like he didn't know, but he jumped in with his own confession. "Me too. They know."

That was something she could live with without any problems. After all, it was a long time coming. "I sure hope they do." She joked. "You better not have treated me like a colleague, Aaron."

Seeing the color return to her face relieved him and finally convinced him everything would be okay. "They know everything." He told her. "Well, most of it."

"Yeah... that." Y/n delicately spoke, biting her bottom lip.

"How long did you know?" He softly questioned. It wasn't her intention to cause her any extra stress.

"Tuesday morning." She mumbled. That made sense to him, why she wanted to drive herself when they always dropped Jack at school and drove to the BAU together. "Don't tell me off for not telling you because I wanted it to be special, and I sure as hell didn't think I'd get shot." She quickly pleaded with him. That was the problem with having your boyfriend as your boss.

Aaron shook his head, squeezing her hand. "I'm not going to tell you off, my love." He assured her. None of it was as important as having her alive. "Not when you're alive and okay."

"And pregnant."

[rebelrayne]

These are fics I recommend to change your life (and your opinion) of all the LIs that were ranked with negative points with combined like and dislike votes! They are all amazing! Read them and prepare to love these least fave LIs! I dare you not to fall in love with them. Big thanks to @longbobmckenzie who helped out a lot with the recs and anything she recs is amazing, 100% so enjoy these!

In the recs, you will find fics for: Arjun, Bill, Ciaran, Elijah, Elisa, Felix, Harry, Ibrahim, Jakub, James, Mason and Tom.

fight for it (RATED M) by @queen-of-boops

Arjun has never had a normal life. He's spent his whole life running, his whole life avoiding others. Until he met Emma. But he has a secret, a secret he hopes she'll never find out.

golden thread (RATED T) by @starsarestars

Far away in a world of it's very own, tucked away in an affluent fashion quarter not too far from Bermondsey, is a place where designer heels and exorbitantly overpriced colognes supplied by a buxom Mancunian are a requirement. Verona Lane. It’s all about image first, personality later. The people there have mastered the art of keeping up appearances, even if it means renting the odd Lamborghini to pose outside your obscenely expensive bedsit in Penge with. Verona Lane is where this tale of deception, fashion and seriously questionable decisions begins

hey stupid, i love you (NOT RATED) by @sparxaf

A bit of fluff in which Bill faces an impossible choice. Five minute word prompt from the LITG FF writer Discord : Mayo Enjoy this lil bit of Bill love. He's a complicated character. I liked him, then I didn't, then I sort of did. Now I love him. He's a weirdo but he's also sweet. He deserves more fandom exposure.

the only two things (RATED E) by @mrsbsmooth

Based off a writing prompt (Fake Dating) allocated by the LITGWritersRoom on Tumblr. "Sophie". Kelly blurted out. "His girlfriend's name's Sophie. She's a friend of mine. And yeah, she's coming." Oh god. Kelly thought. She really hoped Sophie would be okay with this.

reap what you sow (RATED T) by @i-boop-you

It's the Stick or Twist recoupling, and Elijah is in for a shock. (Justice for Elijah is served)

clickbait (RATED M) by kiki_the_creator

Clicks are power, power is money, and Elisa can’t say no to money. Only her newest financial venture is proving far more stubborn than anticipated, and the clicks might not be worth the hassle. Until they start racking up, and up, and up, and she falls deeper and deeper, just for the ploy to begin falling apart in her hands.

heaven help a fool who falls in love (RATED T) by @crimswnred

When you're young and hurt, love feels so distant. A somber take on Felix.

mind games (RATED M) by @becangle

Felix arrives at Casa Amor ready to romance his dream girl.

choppy waters (RATED M) by @queen-of-boops

Harry and Piper won Love Island one year ago and it's been anything but smooth sailing.

how the turn tables (RATED E) by @crimswnred

Zoe and Harry have been in a couple for the most part of the season but it’s the first night the Hideaway is open...

superpower (RATED M) by constantrepeat

Through a desire to please and be a hero to those who mean most to him, Ibrahim's spent his entire life abiding to a stringent lifestyle that's left little room for play, let alone love. However, an invitation veers him off-course and into the world of Love Island, a shameless and saucy destination of romance and debauchery. Hoping to face his fears in order to find someone to share his life with, Ibrahim finds new power through the pursuit of love and the challenges it brings, in a high-stakes environment where everyone's looking to save themselves.

121°C (RATED T) by margotmuses

Jakub finds that maybe what he likes isn’t what he thought.

the other side (RATED T) by @rebelrayne

Was it really happening? He had to have been dreaming. He wasn’t big, rugged and buff like Hazeem. He couldn’t be cool and collected like Kobi. He’d never be as handsome as Dylan. There’s no way he could ever be charming or suave like Youcef… He was just… him?

the challenge (RATED T) by @thesepromises

Hope Adeniyi wants a promotion, and to do that, she needs to score an exclusive merchandising contract with boy band Seventh Heaven following a recent surge in their popularity. Lead singer Mason Knowles wants her to fail; but Hope always plays to win.

and the day after that, too (RATED T) by @/rebelrayne

In 2016, Summer had a whirlwind romance with a boy with a British accent. He wasn’t very smooth and he wasn’t the tallest guy around, but for those short three months, he was hers.

[samwilsonshandsandass]

Five Times Sam Kissed You First And One Time You Kissed Him First

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader Summary: The five times Sam kissed you first and the one time you kissed Sam first Warnings: none, just get your dentists this is pure fluff Word count: 1397

The First Time Sam Kissed You First…

The party, organized by the usual suspects, was supposed to be held outside on the lawn of the Avengers Compound. Sam had moved back into his former quarters there for training new people and building up new initiatives for special special missions. With two job interviews you had lined up in the area, you joined Sam and were promptly roped into attending the party as well.

Now, you sat in front of a mirror on Sam’s desk. When you had asked why there suddenly was a mirror on his standard issue desk, Sam had looked at you as if he couldn’t figure out why you would even ask that. You unscrewed your lipstick and applied the first layer.

Sam, looking even more splendid than usual in his dark blue suit, came up behind you. He bent down and kissed you. It started as a soft kiss but Sam wasn’t a man to do things half assed. He cradled your head in his hands as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

When you came up for air, you chuckled. “There goes the first layer of lipstick. Straight onto your lips.”

“Then so be it.”

… The Second Time Sam Kissed You First…

You stood in the kitchen, shelling peas. Through the open windows, the sounds of rustling trees and of the sea wafted in. Cass and AJ worked through the mountain of sweet potatoes and Bucky had his difficulties with the seafood. He hadn’t moved too long ago, so he was still learning.

AJ complained about the amount of homework he had gotten from his history teacher. “He wants us to write about life in the 30s! But how are we expected to do that, when our book just tells us about dates and who was voted into which position when? That’s not ‘life’!”

“Life in the 30s, you say?” Bucky perked up.

Sam came into the kitchen. “Buck’s flexing how old he is again?”

“If it helps, Sam… And you still didn’t show me the Lord Of The Rings movies. Still!”

Sam stood next to you and kissed you gently on the lips. “Sorry for rushing out like this, need to get back to the boat.”

“Just come back in time to eat. You hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

… The Third Time Sam Kissed You First…

In one week, Cass would celebrate his birthday. Today, Bucky did something with AJ out of town, Cass had a school trip and Sarah had an appointment in town. So you and Sam were on grocery shopping duty.

“All right. We need ingredients for the pies, the cakes, some meat, a few vegetables, sweets and seafood-“ You listed off what everyone of the Wilsons’, you and the new step dad Bucky, had written down over the last days.

“You’re not suggesting we of all families buy seafood.”

“Right. Forgot that for a second.”

“Forgot? How can you forget that? And who you’re married to?” Sam had the tone of voice of mock betrayal down to a T.

You squeezed his hands. “So, I get started on the pie and cake things and then we’ll meet at the sweets, after you get the other things?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You parted ways, each with a cart. You were quicker than Sam and now stood in the sweets aisle, debating what you should get or not. Especially for yourself. From the corner of your eye you saw the other customers; one looked very much like Sam. You turned your head. It wasn’t.

“Other side, love.”

You turned your head the other side and saw a grinning Sam. Before you could do anything, he kissed you sweetly.

“Which kinds do you think we should get?” You held up several kinds of gummy bears.

… The Fourth Time Sam Kissed You First…

The sunlight was too… sunny. Bright. Early. You groaned. Smiling at the memories that resurfaced with the pleasant ache in your muscles, you rolled out of bed. The sun that filtered in through the blinds at least warmed your body.

You fumbled blindly around the bath, still too tired to make the effort to look closely at everything you saw each morning and evening. You reached for your toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste on it. The door opened and you smiled tiredly at Sam. He smiled back and reached for his own toothbrush.

Sam moved closer to you and put his head between your toothbrush and your mouth. He pecked your lips. He stroked your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. When you did, Sam sucked your tongue into his own mouth and gripped your head.

You came up for air. “Sam, I still have morning breath…”

“I care about a great many things but morning breath is not one of them” Sam mumbled, only inches from your lips and never loosening his grip on your head.

… The Fifth Time Sam Kissed You First…

It was a normal humid day in Delacroix. Sam was home and after breakfast you now prepared to drive into New Orleans to an animal shelter. For weeks now, Sam and you had talked about getting a dog and when you had thought about everything you needed to do, pay attention to and whatnot, you looked through the adoption process and set about making your life dog-friendly.

At the shelter, you and Sam were shown to the dog kernels. The person you had already talked on the phone stayed with you for a bit to show you the dogs you had shown interest in and then left. She had told you she’d pay attention to how you behaved with each of the dogs from afar.

The first dog she brought out was a female Golden Retriever. One of her eyes was milky but still, she walked quickly to you. She took her time to smell you, before she gave you a small lick. She turned to Sam and after smelling him as well, she boxed him with her nose.

“I think you’re supposed to do something” You smiled at the dog and then Sam.

“Yeah? I’m supposed to do things?” Sam was already entirely smitten with her. You wouldn’t be able to get him out of the shelter without this dog by side. Not that you planned to.

The two of you played with her and petted her. You went on a small walk around the shelter to see how she behaved, but you both knew the decision to adopt her was basically made.

“So, what do you say? Wanna adopt her?” Sam grinned at you and the dog’s tail thumped against the floor.

“Yeah. I think this good girl wants us to take her home, doesn’t she?” You petted her softly.

The thump-thump-thump of the Labrador’s tail increased.

“Love you” Sam mumbled and pulled your face to his. He cradled you in his hands.

A wet snoot wedged itself between you and Sam.

“And you, too” He smiled down at her.

… And The One Time You Kissed Sam First.

Your body seemingly told you it didn’t need more sleep, despite it being five am. No nightmare woke you, no wet snoot from someone who wanted to go on a walk no matter the time, no sudden movement from Sam who would turn so quickly in his sleep he’d wake you up and then trap you in his bone crushing cuddles.

Turning your head, you looked at Sam. The sun didn’t yet rise so there was only the faintest of light playing on Sam’s features. His eyelids, relaxed and his eyes unmoving, his lips slightly parted. You leant over him and kissed his forehead. It creased and relaxed when you trailed your lips down his nose. Now, that scrunched up a little. You continued with his cheeks. You went down from his temples and didn’t leave a spot untouched from your lips.

Sam’s lips were now opened a little more and you kissed the corners of his mouth softly. You softly sucked on his bottom lips before you snaked your tongue into his mouth and cradled his face.

When you stopped kissing him, you heard his voice, raspy from sleep. “Why’d you stop?”

“Who said I was stopping?” You mumbled over his lips.

“He.”

“But I am pausing. There’s a morning run waiting for us” You smirked.

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sacrifice Part 2 - The Maze Runner Minho Imagine

Request from @elizabeth-brown: hey when your requests will be open can you do 'the maze runner' one with minho. where one day when new greenie was coming up he had letter with him. on it there was written that if they sacrificed y/n they would let everyone out. so keepers decided to vote. most of them voted 'yes' so without any emotions Alby kick y/n into the maze. then minho realized his feelings. y/n survived the maze and WCKED took her. after one year she escaped WCKED and ran into the scorch. Minho missed her miserably. y/n searched the safe heaven. and when Group A searched safe heaven they saw y/n and she was so mad. you can end it however you want either she forgives them or not. and please tag me

Masterlist

Part 1

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the kind words! I really appreciate all of it! :)

Word Count: 3.8k

The sun was rising. You stared up at it as you walked, your cracked lips parted, mouth dry beyond belief. The cloth you’d wrapped around your head was already growing warm. Beneath your long-sleeved shirt and jeans, your body was scarred with sunburns. Your backpack hung heavy on your shoulders and scraped against your back painfully. Still, you kept walking through the sand.

Crumbling buildings lined the barren street. At the end, next to an intersection, you saw one that still had an intact roof. You willed yourself to move faster, but your steps continued in the same plodding manner as before. The sun beat down heavier.

A dry wind whispered past, bringing swirls of sand to flight. They looked beautiful in the golden rays of the morning but cut like glass as they whipped past your cheeks. With a grimace, you reached a weathered hand up and pulled some loose cloth farther over your face, squinting your eyes for protection. The sound of your heavy breathing filled your ears.

How familiar that was. How familiar exertion was. Before you could stop yourself from thinking, from remembering, you saw his face. He was by your side, smiling, goading you to run faster. He was betting you that he could reach the doors first.

“If I win, you owe me half your dinner,” came his playful tease, so vividly that you almost thought it was real. If you let your gaze wander, you could barely make out a mirage of him jogging ahead of you.

What was it you’d said, back in that other life, where you ran the Maze and lived in the Glade and weren’t as alone? You smacked your lips together now, looking for any moisture, and croaked, in a hoarse voice, “What do I get if I win?” The effort made you cough. Stopping in your tracks, you doubled over hacking. You expected to see the worn stone of the Maze beneath your feet, but there was only sand. Knives scraped your throat. You tasted blood.

“You can have anything you want,” Minho responded. You lifted your head, hoping for a glimpse of his face and seeing only sand.

Tears filled your eyes. You wanted Minho with you, right now. You wanted to not be alone. You wanted to not be here, to not have made any of these choices, to not have to keep going and keep trying and keep surviving all because of one promise. You wanted to reach the doors -- no, not the Maze doors, never the Maze doors again, the doors to a crumbling building in a crumbling town in the sun-baked, sand-ridden, abandoned Scorch.

Straightening up, you started for the building again. You reached it in a few long, purposeful strides. The door hung half off its hinges. You slipped inside, shutting it as best you could behind you, hoping that would keep at least some sand out. The inside was blessedly dark. The front room seemed kind of like a cafeteria, with a few tables and chairs and a long counter at the back. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you remembered the last cafeteria you’d been in. You wanted to spit on this place as payback.

Instead, you walked behind the counter, sunk to your knees, shrugged off your backpack, and curled into a ball. Your head pounded. You squeezed your eyes closed, pressed your palms to your temples, tried to hold back any more tears. The memory of Minho floated to the front of your mind again.

“No need to cry,” you could hear him saying. You could almost feel him tuck a finger under your chin, like he’d done before, and raise your head. “I’m still here.” And then you opened your eyes, hoping to see that cocky grin that would make the whole world would seem a little better.

But Minho wasn’t there. You weren’t in the Glade anymore. You weren’t even with WICKED anymore. You were somewhere in the middle of the Scorch, alone and trying to survive and failing.

With trembling fingers, you unzipped your backpack and pulled out your last bottle of water. It was half-empty. You stared at it numbly. How far could half a bottle of water take you? When you used to run the Maze, a lifetime ago, you never went in without at least one canteen full. Minho had teased you during your first run for taking three. You wondered what he would say now.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll get out together.” That’s what he would say. That’s what he had said, right before you went into the Maze for the last time.

I tried, Minho. You wanted to scream it out to the Scorch, let every damn Crank within a hundred miles of you hear it. Maybe Minho would hear it too, back at the WICKED compound, back in the Glade. He said he would find you. You’d repeated his words so many times in your head that they were practically imprinted in your brain. They were like a touchstone, something you remembered for luck and courage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he’d said.

You’d never said it back. You wished you’d said it back.

You forced yourself to stop remembering and took a sip of water. It was like ice filtering through magma cracks, soothing, soothing, soothing, and then gone, evaporating and leaving behind seething bubbles of lava. You wanted more. You wanted so much more for yourself.

You twisted the cap back on and shoved your water into your bag before you did something you’d regret. Leaning against the counter, you let your eyes close. Fatigue made your limbs heavy, and the warm air settled over you like a blanket. You hoped the sun would be gone when you woke up. Then you would walk, as you had for countless nights, with no real directions in mind, only the understanding that you needed to keep moving or else you would die. Somewhere out there, there was a safe haven.

But in your dreams, there was darkness, and in the darkness, there were Grievers. The Maze walls, dripping with ivy, closed in around you as you ran. Your breaths came short and fast, more from fear than effort. You had no bag, no weapons, just the shoes on your feet and a little bit of hope in your chest. But the Grievers were closing in.

Mechanical limbs whirred, slamming against the Maze floor so forcefully the ground seemed to shake. You whipped your head around, caught a glimpse of them, turned back and ran faster, looked again and saw them even closer. Metal clanged together, the sound of razor-sharp fangs gnashing, slick with slime. A rush of wind sliced past your arm. You tried to move faster, just a little faster, just enough to keep narrowly avoiding the Griever’s claws, just enough, please, just enough to make it to sunrise--

A wave of fire burned a line across your back. The pain was white-hot, so bad you couldn’t keep your eyes open, you were stumbling and faltering and barely moving and the Griever was going to get you, only with your next step you felt nothing but open space and then you were falling and falling and falling.

You hit the ground so hard the air went out of you, and only then did you realize you’d been screaming. A moment of shock passed. Then you shrieked again. Your back burned with pain, but it wasn’t fire, not like you’d thought at first, it was a cut, huge and sprawling and parting the flesh of your back. Blood drenched your shirt. You screamed, blind with pain and fear, waiting for the Griever to finish you off or sting you and send you into a spiral of even greater misery.

Something grabbed your arms, hoisted you up, strapped you down. The Grievers have me, they’ve got me, they’re going to kill me, you thought, even as you felt human hands and heard human voices and saw human faces.

“No!” You caught a glimpse of one of them holding a syringe, a Griever in disguise. Twisting away, trying to avoid it, you let out a scream so loud you thought your vocal cords would be torn to shreds, just like your back, just like the ravaged mess that was left of your back. The needle pierced your skin.

Immediately, your yells dropped off. The people or the Grievers or the Grievers masquerading as people laid you face down on a stretcher. You couldn’t move your neck, or your arms, or your feet, but every step they took as they carried you sent bolts of lightning through your body. Your face was wet with tears, with blood. The jostling stopped. Every nerve in your body rebelled in pain, and then there was a cold hand on your cheek, forcing your chin up. Grinning down at you was the face of the devil.

You woke now with a start, a cool sheen of sweat coating your body, phantom pains chilling your back. Your heart thundered wildly. Acting on pure instinct, you shot to your feet, looking frantically around the room. She would be there, you were sure of it. The devil, with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, her lips painted red with the blood of her victims.

But the room was dark and empty and you were alone.

You untensed with a long, slow exhalation. Tiny daggers still ran up and down your spine, dancing along the scars the WICKED doctors had said they couldn’t fix.

“An unfortunate variable,” the devil had said about the Grievers, “but necessary.”

Necessary.

You spat on the floor, wishing it was her pristine white cafeteria, half-hoping you’d look up and see her standing there so you could strangle her. But that thought was fleeting and your head shot back up in fear, scanning the room again and again to reassure yourself that Dr. Paige was nowhere to be seen.

When you were sure there was no one lurking in the night-shadowed corners, you hefted your backpack onto your shoulders and made for the door. Outside, the desert air was chill and dry. The occasional wind stirred the sand as you walked, footsteps making quiet whispers along the dusty sidewalk. Moonlight paved the way forward.

Goosebumps covered your arms as you replayed your dream, your memories, over again. Yes, the Grievers had gotten you, but not the ones in the Maze. It was the hidden Grievers, the ones who said they were good, and that they were going to save the world, and that you were helping.

“Thank you for participating, Y/N,” Dr. Paige had said. “I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The data we gathered on the group’s response to a requested sacrifice will prove very useful, I assure you.” And she’d smiled at you. She’d actually smiled, pointy, predatory canines on full display behind her parted red lips. “The data from your response will also be very beneficial. Thank you once more for your participation.”

You were too shocked. You were in too much pain. The synapses in your brain weren’t firing correctly, still stuck trying to piece together that the sacrifice was some kind of test. An unfortunate variable. “What...what happens next?”

Dr. Paige had already left. Someone lower in the chain of command gave you a nonanswer about your role in Phase One being complete.

“But what happens in Phase Two?”

There was no answer to that question, no matter how many times you asked. You asked when you were stable enough to be moved to your own room, when you were compliant enough to walk the halls of the facility with a chaperone, when you were obedient enough to eat in the cafeteria among the staff members.

“WICKED is good,” they’d say. And then they would smile at you.

You shuffled through the sand. Reaching a hand, which you pretended wasn’t trembling, into the side pocket of your bag, you pulled out a meal replacement pouch with WICKED emblazoned on its side. Even as you ate, you worried. The dream loomed over you like a heavy cloud, and your food supply was dwindling. You wished for a sip of water, just a taste, a small trickle to wet your lips, something to help the powdery bar go down.

You wished you’d started hoarding food at WICKED earlier. It was only when you noticed that change was coming, that the air was electric and the people were alive, that you started to slip items from the cafeteria into your bag. The doctors had stopped ordering you in for blood tests and scans, which they had pretended were for your back, and then they stopped sending you a chaperone. It was almost like freedom.

“Code Green. I repeat, Code Green. All personnel begin preparations for Phase Two. I repeat…” The message came over the speakers while you were in your room, a barebones cell with a cot and a desk. In a flash, you were on your feet, pouncing on the opportunity. You slung your WICKED bag over your shoulders, ignoring the discomfort as it pressed into your bandaged back. Peering through the crack in your door, you couldn’t see anyone in the hall. The lights were flashing in time with the announcement, strobes of green slicing across the walls. Holding your breath in anticipation, you tried the door handle. Unlocked.

Heart fluttering, you pulled it open a crack and slipped through, shutting it gently behind you. No chaperone sitting outside. No guards patrolling. No people at all. You bolted down the hall.

Thinking about it now, as you finished your second to last meal replacement, the perishable food long since gone, you wondered why it was so easy.

Phase One. Phase Two. Thank you for your participation. An unfortunate variable. Unfortunate unfortunate unfortunate thank you for participating thank you for the data thank you for trying thank you for dying. Phase Two, I should have raided the cafeteria will you be in the cafeteria, Minho are you in the kitchen? Where are you where am I why is this happening what is--

Welcome to Phase Two.

You crumpled the meal replacement package in your hand and threw it into the air, letting it fly with the wind.

Minho’s voice was in your head. “I’ll raid the kitchen, the Med-jack Hut, bring us weapons.”

You shook your head and it faded. “I would have done it if you were there,” you said. Your voice was a croak. You cleared your throat and tried, “I would have…” The words floated away. I would have tried harder to survive.

“I tried so hard, Minho.” You thought of your bottle of water, only a few sips left. “I tried to wait for you in the Maze, but WICKED took me.” Grievers and white-clothed doctors and searing pain. “I tried to wait for you at WICKED, but...I think they let me escape.” An unlocked door, no patrolling guards. The vast expanse of the Scorch beyond, and a snippet of an overheard conversation about a safe haven at the end. “I tried to reach the end. But I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Sand. So much sand. Lightning storms and a burning, vengeful sun, and a throat so dry it hurt. “I can’t do this anymore.”

And still, you walked. Because there was nothing else to do. Because you were a Runner and Runners never stopped. Because you thought this might be another test, another phase, and you wanted to reach the end. Because the mirage of Minho was nearby, talking.

“We’re almost there,” he said. You rubbed your sand-crusted eyes and tried to find him. “We have to keep going.”

Other voices chimed in, pitched low and hard to hear. You hoped you could hallucinate Newt, too, and maybe Zart and Frypan, who had tried to help, had tried, just like you tried. You moved faster, feet cleaving through drifts of sand.

“There it is!”

You missed the sound of an excited Minho. You remembered the first time he’d had a little too much to drink at a bonfire, and he’d picked you up and twirled you around. You’d never smiled so much.

The memory used to be good, then it turned painful, and now you were just numb.

You kept walking. Around you, the city was fading into sand. Ahead stood a tall dune. You wanted to stop and stare and convince yourself to turn around. But you kept walking. Behind the dune, you’d see Minho and Newt and Zart and Frypan and maybe even Alby, and maybe you would forgive Alby, or maybe not, but you would still see him because everyone would be there.

You boot punched a hole into the sand dune, sending streams of gritty yellow dust cascading down the slope. Stepping forward again, you sunk into sand up to your mid-calf. Again and again, and then you stumbled and fell in up to your elbows, and still, you crawled.

“We can do this,” Minho said, from somewhere above or behind or by your side. He was climbing with you, barely out of sight. His playful grin was audible.

“Bet I can beat you to the top,” you said before he could.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked.

You smiled and there were tears in your eyes and sand on your cheeks. “You can have anything you want.” And you climbed higher.

“I want you to say it back. Please say it back, Y/N. Please.” His voice was fading. You were leaving him behind as you neared the top.

Sand burrowed into the lines of your face, past the seams of your clothes, finding every nook and cranny of your body to hide in. It was in your mouth, your ears, your eyes. You struggled to breathe. Your head felt as light as a cloud. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finally promised as you reached the empty crest. Still on hands and knees, you peered over the other side of the dune. The slope was empty. Everything was empty.

You rolled onto your back, eyes shut against the fading night sky. Your arm bumped against something stiff. Reaching a hand out blindly, groping for it, you came back with a stick. You looked at it through squinted eyes. Atop the stick was a flag, and on the flag in big, thick letters, the same font WICKED used for everything, were the words, “Safe Haven.”

You laughed. The bitter chuckle was alone in the Scorch. Overhead, the sky was lightening, and soon you would be alone in the daylight of the Scorch, alone in the Safe Haven.

Shrugging your backpack off, you reached inside for your water and the last of your food. The bottle was empty. You didn’t remember finishing it, but you figured you must have. You chucked it to the side, listening as it rolled down the sand dune. You wouldn’t need that anymore. The air grew warmer as dawn approached and you opened your last meal replacement. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear voices. You wondered if you were going crazy, decided you didn’t care because you had tried Minho I really tried I’m sorry please promise me I’ll see you tomorrow please don’t let it end like this please.

You took a bite of the crumbling meal replacement bar and immediately spit it back out. It had soaked up the last bit of moisture in your mouth. You tossed the package to the side, where you’d abandoned your water and your will.

The sky grew pink and orange and yellow, and, finally, there was the sun, high in the sky, and you had no idea how much time had passed while you stared, and you didn’t care. There was no further destination in mind. This was it. And with the sun up there and you down here, you hoped that maybe this wouldn’t count as dying alone.

“There it is!” Minho again. Funny how he kept saying that. And then the voices of the other Gladers chimed in again. You wondered if you would keep replaying that moment until you finally passed. You wondered how it would feel. You wondered if there was water on the other side.

The sand rushed down the sides of the dune in waterfalls. You could hear it, even if you didn’t have the energy to look. It sounded like a whisper. Beneath the whisper was the panting of a group of people.

Runners, you thought. All of the Runners before and all of the Runners after, coming to take me away. Would Minho be among them? Was he dead, like you and like those sad souls who’d been killed by the Grievers (An unfortunate variable, but necessary) and all of the people who’d gotten the Flare, which you barely understood because no one had answered any of your questions?

Why is this happening and where am I going and what do I do and how did I get here and when can I go home, please bring me home, I want to go home and I want to see Minho one last time because I never promised him back and I should have.

“Y/N?”

Minho. You didn’t have the energy to speak or even open your eyes to see the hallucination.

“Y/N!” Feet pounding against sand, then hands on your arms, looping around your back, pulling you close and shielding you from the sun. “Wake up, Y/N. Clint!”

No, Clint wasn’t supposed to be here. Clint had voted for you to be sent into the Maze. You were pretty sure you used to hate him for that, but hate took so much energy, and you just wanted to pretend Minho was holding you until you didn’t have to think anymore.

The people nearby talked unintelligibly, oscillating between murmurs and gleeful shouts. There was cotton in your ears and a blindfold over your eyes and strong hands on your back, propping you up. Then there was a splash of water on your face and the world opened up again.

There was Minho. Better than in your memories, because he was here, in full color, so perfect you needed to squint. He was on his knees and holding you. Above, Clint was pouring water over your head. All around you were Gladers.

“Minho?” you croaked, although there was no question who it was. Dark brown eyes, now filled with tears. Full lips curved up in a smile. Scatters of freckles across his cheeks. Minho.

Minho nodded and pulled you into a hug. “I thought…” he trailed off. Then he laughed, a sound so bright and so happy that the water on your skin felt a touch cooler, the sun on your shoulders a shade dimmer. “I should’ve known you’d survive.”

“There’s no safe haven,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

Minho shook his head, still buried in your neck. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Smiling, you pressed a hand to his cheek, coaxing him to look at you. When he did, you leaned in and finally felt at home.

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Author's Note: I wanted to put a longer, more serious note at the end instead of the beginning so I wouldn't deter any newcomers from reading. I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for letting me try out this style! I'm not very happy with how this turned out but it was good practice. Hopefully, I can use this experience and write better pieces in the future. Thanks again for letting me experiment and for the encouragement. And my requests are always open :)

Tag List: @officialfictionalwreck @elizabeth-brown @newtsgirl-hehe @jjjmaybank @adoregin

[anxiousstark]

The Name of the Game | Mitch Rapp

Warnings: Vulgar vocabulary, public sex (if you squint), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), teasing, foreplaying, etc. Porn with some plot.

Word Count: 3280

A/N: First time writing smut so, please don’t kill me. This CAN’T be considered flithy after the 11k I wrote for the Dylan fic.

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST  | MIATCHEMBER |  KO-FI

A long dark green silky dress hugged the shape of your body, accentuating the most appealing parts of your physique. Your bareback was full of goosebumps as your hair caressed the uncovered skin. Besides, your makeup was done flawlessly, emphasising the most attractive features you had.

Your walk was confident, the clicking of your heels turning heads towards you. Your presence too big for the room. However, you ignored the desiring gazes that you received from both men and women, focusing on your mission.

Liam Zajicek was your objective. A young and attractive man who was being searched by almost every CIA agent. At the young age of 22 years old, he was probably the most searched and wanted hacker. The CIA had been searching for him since last year when he successfully altered the votes in the elections of the new president of America. However, Zajicek was stealthy, not leaving any hint that could implicate him in such a grave crime.

But the man you worked for was even more stealthy, preparing his next moves before Liam Zajicek had the opportunity to do anything. And his next move was you.

The mission was easy, too easy for you. You would be lying if you denied feeling offended for receiving such a simplistic mission. It was as lightly as seducing Liam. Even if he was a talented hacker, he was still a young man who would be sex-driven.

A man in a tuxedo walked closer to you, a tray on his right hand, lowering it so you could grab the drink you craved. Nodding while offering him a charming smile, your eyes gazed around, trying to find the man whose pictures you had studied closely.

The ballroom was full of people. Elegant dresses and tuxedos, expensive drinks, and perfumes. It was the perfect environment to seduce someone, leading them out of the public eye to kill them. However, Liam was going to be luckier as your boss wanted to be the one taking care of him.

The golden light appeared to illuminate your beauty as you wandered closer to the bar, discerning your target talking to a considerably alluring woman. Sitting in a luxurious barstool, you crossed your right leg on top of your left one, causing the cut of the dress to expose your glowing skin.

Setting your intense gaze on him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. Your tongue wetted your lip, exaggerating the action a little more as Liam Zajicek noticed you. His mouth turned into a smirk, eyes focused on you as he ignored whatever the red-haired girl was telling him.

The music turned into a ballad. Getting up from the barstool, you walked to the floor where some couples were already slow dancing, enjoying the closeness, and hoping to bring a nice one-night stand to their hotel room. As you walked to the floor, your gaze was focused on Liam. He completely ignored the red-haired woman, walking to where you were standing.

"Are you maybe waiting for someone who will have the chance to slow dance with you?" His voice was husky, and you weren't sure if it was due to the desperation he was radiating, or if it was his usual tone.

Your left hand grabbed his right hand, placing it on your waist. "I was hoping you would be that lucky someone." Your white teeth accentuated the red rich, rosewood lipstick.

His other hand instantly grabbed your other side, dragging you closer to him while your hands rested on his shoulders. "May I get your name?"

You wanted to groan, feeling a little overthrown. You expected to have fun during this mission, have some sexual tension yourself. But the way his hands only pulled you closer, without teasing you in some way was telling you that Liam Zajicek didn't have as much experience with women as he did with hacking.

"Holland," You lied, not displaying such valuable information to someone who was a mere target. "May I get yours?" This time it was you pulling him closer, biting your lower lip.

His eyes sparkled, and if you had gotten a little closer, he would have thrust against you, rutting just there. "I'm Adrian." You tried not to scoff, knowing that he was also lying.

His hands went lower, moving towards your back. He bit his lower lip too excessively, and you tried to contain a roll of your eyes. His hips got closer to yours, letting you know that there was a bulge growing, although nothing prominent.

"So," His fingers relocated, grazing your back. "Such a pretty lady coming to a party like this one on your own?" The knife being held by your garter ached to be grabbed. "Is your dad one of those rich men?" He smirked. "Because that means it will be difficult to impress you, baby." The pet name sounded lame coming from him.

Before you could answer, the music switched. The melody was still slow, a little more sensual, and you saw people wandering around to dance with other people, bodies even closer than before.

"May I take her from you now?" A deeper voice interrupted your words. Looking beside you, a man's gaze was focused on you. The other men preferred to look at your cleavage while this one preferred to gaze into your eyes, at least for now.

Before you could answer, the black-haired man had glared at Liam, making him walk away, whispering that he would try and find you later.

"Do I know you?" You did. You knew him, and he knew you. However, you both wanted to have a little fun, ignoring the detail of recognising each other.

Mitch Rapp innocently smiled at you. "I don't believe so." You had seen pictures of him that your boss had shown you, and this wouldn't be the first time Mitch Rapp had the same purpose as you. He had shaved his beard and styled his quite long dark hair. "But I wouldn't mind getting to know such a good-looking lady."

You grinned. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to run down his chest, pressing against firm muscles. Not caring about your long dress, his left leg parted yours, resting in the middle, grazing the sides of your inner thighs. His left hand slid from your back, resting upon your butt, pulling you even closer. His face near yours, warm breath hitting your top lip while his lightly upturned nose rested against the tip of yours.

"You told him your name is Holland, uh." He smirked. His right hand was on the right side of your waist, pulling you even closer to the point where your core was placed directly on top of his thigh. "I thought I told you this type of dudes are the CIA's business, Y/N."

You smirked, tongue leaping out to wet your lower lip, accidentally grazing his bottom lip, which made him try and hide a grunt. "You know I like the excitement of ruining your plans. And if Stan gets mad, it's a plus." You grinned. "Plus my boss wants him."

"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson." He scoffed. "So disobedient, always making my job harder." You suggestively glanced at him, noticing that wasn't the only hard thing you provoked as his bulge was pressed against your core. He understood what you were implying, shaking his head. The hand that was resting on your butt went to the front, brushing your tummy while going down. Disappointment overflowed you as his fingers skipped the part you desired he would graze, going directly under your dress, grabbing the knife that was being held by your garter. "You changed the place of the knife."

"Couldn't have you finding it again." You whined as his cold fingers left your thigh, not taking the blade as he was confident you wouldn't use it against him. "But seems like you did."

"Leave this one for me, baby girl." He referred to Zajicek, knowing he will have to fight you to take you away from whatever your boss had ordered you to do.

"Do you know how much I will get paid for this, Rapp?" Your hands went up again, circling his neck to bring him closer. Your next words made your lips brush against his. "A lot of money, Rapp. More than you can imagine." Your gaze moved around, remembering what you were there for. Mitch Rapp had distracted you from your objective. "Shit."

The man that was keeping you close to him turned around, following your gaze until he saw Liam speaking to a man while glancing at you two. He had discovered that you both were there to get him. He swiftly pushed through people, trying to escape both of you. "Fuck." Mitch's hands left your body, stepping as quickly as possible, following Zajicek. You did the same, trying to ignore the fabric stuck to your lower lips, confirming the effect Mitch Rapp had on you.

You lost both of them, finding yourself in an empty hall, glancing around. It wasn't until you heard a thump that you knew where both men were. Rushing to a white and golden door, you were met with Mitch as he dodged a chair that was thrown to his head by Liam.

You quickly walked closer, jumping on Zajicek's back, arms tightly around his neck, trying to choke him. "Mitch, he is mine." Your legs around his waist, pressing your thighs against him, trying to weaken the lower part of his body. Nonetheless, Liam Zajicek used his elbows to hit your stomach, causing you to fall on your butt and back, your breath being kicked out of you.

"No way, baby girl." He grunted as he ran after Liam again. As soon as you were able to get up, you ran behind them, seeing them going inside another room, which seemed to be an office. Liam tried to kick a shelf. Mitch was strong enough to stop the entire shelf from falling on top of him, although he would have a big bruise on the back of his arm.

Liam's eyes widened as he understood how tough, and trained Mitch Rapp was, running to a door that was inside the office. Pulling it open, he was met with no exit. Mitch and you ran to the other chamber, which was a bathroom.

You quickly kicked Liam's chest with your heels, making him wail in pain, collapsing on his bottom. Mitch gripped the boy's hair, dragging him over the white porcelain bath, turning the water on, and splashing his face with the head of the shower until he was turning purple as he couldn't breathe.

"Where's the SD?" You asked Zajicek. When he didn't answer you, Mitch turned the water on again. But the boy resisted, not wanting to reveal his secrets.

Your hands rapidly moved around Liam's body, going inside his pockets until your fingers found a hard object. Mitch Rapp was too distracted threatening the hacker. It was your opportunity to flew from the room with the SD you needed. Proof enough for your boss to get the money from finding and discovering the ways of Liam Zajicek.

You rushed out of the bathroom, not getting too far as a hand grabbed your right elbow. You didn't have time to turn around as a rough body pushed you against the desk placed on the middle of the office. Your chest was tightly squeezed against the hard wooden surface, while a body was pressed to the lower part of your body. A hand around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. A veiny hand came to view, grasping the SD card from your grip. "Such a snake, baby girl."

"I repeat," You tried to get away from his grasp, unsuccessfully. "I like ruining your plans."

"Good," You heard him shuffle behind you, probably hiding the SD in one of his pockets. "It's my turn to ruin you." There was no time to proceed his words as both of his hands went to the cut on your leg, ripping the dress so he could see what was underneath. His cold fingers grabbed the knife, throwing it somewhere in the room. "No underwear." He grunted, hips colliding with yours, showing how desperate he was.

You moaned, using your elbows to hold yourself up. You turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you. "Underwear looks horrible with such a delightful dress." His eyes slipped from you to look down at your folds. Seeing the satisfaction in his eyes, you decided to move your hips back, hitting his hips again, leaving a little damp mark on the front of his pants due to your wetness. His eyes went back to yours, holding your gaze as the fingers of his right hand teased your folds, not touching them completely, just grazing them. "Mitch, you better touch me right now. I swear to g-." Your words were interrupted as he conducted your wish. Two of his fingers rubbing the wetness of your pussy all over your folds, making you gasp and hold his gaze.

"So wet." His fingers left your core, making you whine. He placed his hand between your centre and the desk, his fingers going back to the sought place. This time, toying with your clit as the other hand ran up, grabbing your boob through the dress, squeezing, and pinching. "Fuck. How can you be so wet even before I started touching you."

"You always do the same." Your hips trapped his hand against the desk, riding his hand as he played with your clit. "You always get me all turned on, and then, you leave." Your right hand stopped supporting your weight, blindly going behind your body until it was wrapping Mitch's bulge. "How can you be so hard even before I touched you."

"Shut up," He groaned, a little smirk decorating his face. His hand left your clit as he felt how you fere fastening your peace against him. His other hand removing yours off his bulge. He rapidly unzipped his jeans, and after thrusting his hips a couple of times against yours, he lowered his boxers. His left hand pushed your face against the desk, keeping you there as the head of his dick caressed your wet folds. "We have no time, baby girl. We have to be quick." He pushed the head between your folds, teasing. "No time to eat you out, no time to have my dick deep down your throat, and no time to finger you." You could notice that he was talking with a pout on his lips. He finally decided to shove himself fully in you.

"Mitch," You whined. "Don't go all soft on me, please." The grip he had around your neck tightened while his dick went out of your pussy, just to go back inside at a slow pace. You were going to beg him to do you harder, and faster, but the ringing of your phone interrupted you.

"Who's it?" Mitch mumbled. As you wanted to ignore the call, you didn't answer, which made Rapp stop his slow thrusts. When you complained, turning around to peer at him, he had an earnest expression. "I asked you a question, kitten." Your legs trembled, and you were grateful that Mitch and the desk retained your entire body.

With shaky fingers, you clutched your phone. Hazy vision trying to guess the ID of the caller. "Stan," You answered. Mitch couldn't help but smirk at the chance of fucking you while your boss was on call.

"Well, kitten." His hips went back, going forward, roughly, fastening the pace. "No more foreplay for us." Mitch and you did this in every mission that Stan sent the both of you to. You both acted as if you were each other's competition, ending up fucking somewhere after capturing or killing your target. "Answer him, baby." Your eyes widened, and before you could talk, Mitch thrust a couple of times into you, fast.

"Y-yes?" You replied after sliding your finger on the screen of the phone to accept the call.

"You guys are taking more time than normal. Was there any problem?" His annoyed voice sounded over the line, making you both roll your eyes.

Your hand went to your mouth, keeping yourself from moaning while being on the phone. Mitch was going harder and deeper as possible. His balls hitting your clit every time he thrust. "W-we already have him, Stan. We will be back soon." Soon, you were going to cum soon, not being able to hold back from how quick Mitch was doing you. "We are taking more time as I lost my knife," You plainly lied. "You know how much I love that kn-." A loud moan interrupted your sentence, followed by a couple of more.

"Oh my god, you horny rabbits." Stan realised what both of you were up to. "Finish quickly, and come back with Zajicek." He hung up.

"You heard him, kitten." He pushed you even farther into the desk, ordering you to stay there. His left hand went to your waist, moving your body to meets his thrusts. His right hand found its place on your clit, expertly moving in circles until your knees were buckling. "Come on, baby. Come on." He groaned, knowing you were so close to your high.

He pressed his chest against your back, his teeth biting your ear, not scared to moan loudly, letting you know that you had the same power on him that he had on you. "I'm so close baby." You could feel his dick grazing places that could make any woman pass out from pleasure. His member pulsating in you, letting you grasp that he was close.

A couple more of thrusts and he was cumming inside you, the movement of his hips still hitting you, perceiving you were close. "Mitch!" Your mouth was open, and a trail of drool running down your chin as your body shook from how hard you were cumming. His load filled you up, and even after both of you had reached your highs, Mitch was still inside you, pressed against you while breathing hard.

"Fuck, even quickies with you left me all satisfied." He groaned, deciding to slip his dick from you, which made you whine as you loved being filled up by him. Now, you moaned, the mix of your juices falling down your thighs. "Let me go grab you a towel." He moved to the bathroom, to come back a couple of minutes later with a warm wet towel on his hands, not hesitating to gently clean you up, knowing you were quite sensitive after sex.

"Hey," Your eyes widened. "What about Zajicek?"

"He was unconscious when I came here as you tried to escape." He hummed, concentrating on cleaning you up. "But when I went back inside to get the towel, he was conscious, tied to the bath. He probably enjoyed you moaning loudly." He winked, making you feel flustered.

"Mitch Rapp," You groaned. "My dress it's all ripped. How am I supposed to get out of this party like this?" You pointed at the ripped dress he was guilty of as he couldn't wait until you unzipped it to be inside you.

"You will have to keep closer to me, baby girl." He grabbed you, dragging you closer to his body. Your hands ended up against his firm chest. "Hard again?" You chuckled, feeling his bulge on the lower part of your tummy.

"Wait until we get home, Y/N Rapp." He winked. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Ms. Rapp."

.

.

Taglist: @og-baby-ob14​ - @siwiecola - @linkpk88​ -

People in bold means I can’t tag them.

[monstersandmaw]

Sleep paralysis demon/nightmare x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This was begun on a Twitch writing stream, with lots of input from the chat, and while I did say I would post it straight to Tumblr, I ended up adding another 3k words to it, and a tiny bit of plot, so I figured I'd put it up on Patreon first. Since Patreon supporters voted so highly for a ‘nightmare’ on the 'next monsters' poll (thank you!), I thought it should go up there first too.

Our reader has been experiencing anxiety and insomnia lately, and this draws something to us... There's a bit at the start that's got creepy vibes to it, but the creature means us no harm. Because of the sleep paralysis element, I'm going to say watch out for non-con vibes, but nothing really happens without our consent first time round. Just putting it here in case that's a major issue for anyone.

Ft. dapper mothman landlord Reggie, and gnoll best friend too.

“You’re living where now?” Francis practically barked into his whisky as you sat together after work. The gnoll’s enormous, dish-like ears flicked forwards, dark and fuzzy and full of concern. “Seriously, you do know how shitty that part of town is, right?”

“It’s not that bad,” you growled, taking a sip of your own drink and leaning back into the soft leather back of the chair. You stifled a yawn and blinked, the exhaustion of a week’s worth of broken sleep catching up to you in one brutal rush.

Francis flicked an ear and levelled you with a flat look, dark eyes serious for once. “You’re kidding…?”

“Ok, fine, it’s not amazing, but it’s really not the worst bit of town. Anyway, it’s all I can afford right now until I find a new job.” That seemed to shut him up on the subject, at least for now. He couldn't argue with your dwindling bank balance after all.

“When’s your first interview?” he asked, raising the whisky to his lips and sipping it with surprising elegance for someone with such big hands and such a powerful jaw.

Taking a deep breath, you forced the nerves down and muttered, “Monday. I’m not prepared, but at least it’s something.” You tried not to think about the inbox full of rejection letters which, in a mere two sentences and with surgical succinctness, told you that they were not hiring, nor looking to hire, nor to take on any new staff just at the moment. Thank you for your interest.

It wasn’t interest; it was sheer bloody desperation.

“You’re not going to be at all prepared if you get mugged to death on your way home tonight,” Francis grumbled.

“It’ll be fine.”

He looked at you again and took another final drink of his whisky, long tongue lapping out the remaining dregs before he set it down with a clonk on the circle-stained table. “Please text me when you get there?”

With a solemn promise to do just that, you stood and he followed you outside into the cool evening. A scuffle of dry leaves drew your attention to your right, and the fleeting shadow of a cat projected huge along a brick wall made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Francis’ concern had got you jumping at the smallest things, and as you separated from him with a warm hug and the reiterated promise that you’d be fine, you gritted your teeth and told yourself in no uncertain terms not to flinch at the slightest sound.

To be honest, the neighbourhood honestly wasn’t that bad. There had been a few break-ins, and the police had conducted a drug raid a few streets over last month, but other than that, it was mostly just… tired. Perhaps it would be the subject of the city council’s next ‘rejuvenation’ scheme, and some commerce and life could finally be injected back into this wallowing, languishing, crumbling part of town. Still, the mothman who had let you rent one of the apartments in his old, converted town house had been very pleasant when you’d met to discuss rent, and that had gone a long way towards heartening you. Without his offer, you might not have had anywhere at all.

You tried to keep that fact in mind as you passed by the closed grocery store, the lights inside low, the neon sign flickering and drawing moths to it like supplicants to a shrine. For a moment, you caught the rapid drumbeat of footsteps behind you and tensed. In under a minute, they disappeared down a side street, and you let out a shaky breath. “Get a grip,” you breathed, reaching into one pocket for your keys all the same.

After fifteen minutes of striding at a quicker pace than was cardiovascularly comfortable, the old, slightly shabby, turn-of-the-last-century building loomed out of the gathering night. At the pedestal-base of the antique, cast-iron street lamp, a narrow pool of golden light shimmered and flickered intermittently, illuminating cracks in the pavement that seemed larger and more treacherous than they had in full daylight. Your imagination conjured black, coiling shadows creeping up from those dark cracks in the earth like smoke on a stage set, and as you paused a moment beneath it to sort your keys out, a breath of wind stippled goosebumps across the nape of your neck.

Glancing once over your shoulder, half expecting to discover someone standing silently at your back, you found nothing at all out of place, swallowed, and scuttled up the uneven garden path to the main door of the converted apartments.

No sooner had you put the key in the lock than the door rattled and swung open from the other side. Reeling away in surprise, you stumbled half a pace backwards and gasped as your eyes registered nothing but blackness inside the hallway beyond. From within the swath of darkness, two points of crimson glowed, then tilted slightly to the side, and you would have shrieked, had the entity inside not murmured your name at that exact instant in his deep baritone.

“Reginald!” you practically whimpered in relief, body going slack as you encouraged your heart rate back to normal with steadying breaths, and then huffed an embarrassed laugh. “You scared me… sorry. I’m just super jumpy this evening.”

“No, no,” the mothman purred, stepping delicately out onto the path and holding the door open for you with his lower right arm. His black fur rippled and shimmered in the soft night breezes and he buzzed his wings once. The fur around his nose was beginning to turn silver, and on his hands and around his antennae too. “I apologise. I felt you coming and I should have announced myself. How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” you croaked, equilibrium mostly recovered. The cool night wafted across your clammy skin and calmed your racing heart while you stood there making polite conversation with him until you yawned conspicuously.  

“Thank you for indulging an old moth, but I shan’t keep you up any longer. You look as though you could use some sleep,” he said, inclining his head in an old-fashioned bow, antennae dipping too and making you think of a gentleman dipping his hat at you. As you headed inside, fumbling on the wall for the light switch, you heard the distant buzz of his wings, and closed the door with a soft click as Reginald took off into the night.

The decor of the main areas of the building left a bit to be desired, with the odd peeling corner and scuff on the antique dado rail, but it was clean, which had set it well apart in the list of other apartments you'd scouted in the last month or so, and as you traipsed up the stairs to your first floor flat, the boards creaked raucously beneath your feet. No one was sneaking in or out of here without making a huge racket, and that thought provided a little comfort.

The interview on Monday loomed in your mind, ticking your resting heart rate up higher than normal, but after you went through the motions before bed with a strange sense of detachment, you let the weariness building behind the anxiety creep over your limbs and draw your eyelids down. Reginald hadn’t been wrong when he’d remarked on your appearance; it had been a while since you’d slept really well. So, it was with a familiar sense of dread that you let your mind slide away into unconsciousness, praying that the nightmares that had plagued your sleeping mind would stay away that night.

With a jolt, your eyes flew open to find the room dark, the street lamp outside extinguished, and a familiar sense of crushing dread weighing on your chest. Lying there, motionless, you breathed slowly, trying to figure out what had woken you so suddenly. Nothing stirred, and as you strained your ears, you caught no whisper of autumn leaves in the reaching branches of the walnut tree outside.

No sooner had you closed your eyes again, hoping to slide back into dreamless sleep, something touched your hair with a spider-light touch and you tried to scream and flail. Finding yourself utterly unable to move, you could only lie there as adrenaline flooded your whole body, your throat went dry, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, and the sensation returned, stronger now.

Pinprick sharp claws - like a cat’s but much, much larger - raked through your hair, softly stroking your scalp, and you felt a silent scream tear itself from your chest. Something was there in the dark with you and you couldn’t move a muscle.

A shadow in the blackness of the room, a darker blur than the rest of the inky room, shifted along your bed from behind you in a coiling tendril, unfurling across the sheets and over your body like the root of a plant or the limb of an octopus, and your blood began to hammer in your ears. All you could do was lie there and gasp for breath.

Claws, long and glistening and dripping with darkness, scraped almost gently down your temple and as the entity moved into your limited field of vision, you felt another soundless yell rip itself from you. An involuntary trembling began in your limbs as a dark, black, skull-like face loomed over you, a wide maw stretching open to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.

You were going to die. If this was a nightmare, you’d probably be found a few days later, dead of a heart attack, and if it were real… gods above - the thought of being mugged was abruptly shunted to the bottom of your list of things to fear in this neighbourhood. The last thing you’d said to Francis was ‘I’ll be fine.’

The creature opened its mouth wider and wider as if trying to draw out your soul from your body, teeth glistening, breath completely silent, leaning in close to your face. It looked veiled, somehow, as if a wet, gauzy material had been draped over a skeletal form, which then stuck to the emaciated body beneath. With a jolt, you realised it looked like a shrouded corpse, wrapped in black fabric. The ragged shreds of material that floated eerily, slowly, as if the creature were underwater and the wisps were nothing more than kelp, and the tips constantly dissolved into fine smoke that curled lazily around the figure.

Was this Death itself?

Please… you begged silently. Please… I don’t want to die.

To your surprise, the creature tilted its terrifying head to one side in a motion that reminded you of a cat; as though it was curious.

Oh please don’t be something that toys with your prey first…

Fractionally, the entity drew back a fraction, though its four-inch long, sickle-claws remained at the side of your face. As you stared at it, wide eyed and sweating with fear, you got the fleeting impression of an emaciated torso and two equally skeletal arms beneath the floating veil.

In a moment of oddly detached clarity, you wondered if it could understand you.

It nodded.

The fuck?

That grin stretched wider. It had teeth like an angler fish, and the moment you thought that, all you could imagine was it lunging for you out of the darkness like a sprung trap, teeth sinking in, blood pouring, ending in nothing but pain and fear…

The creature nudged its clawed hand against your lips, and for a horrible moment you thought it was going to slice open the skin of your mouth, but instead, like anaesthetic wearing off, your lips began to tingle. You could move them again. Swallowing, you rasped, “Can… you understand me?”

Again, the entity nodded and retreated a little further from the bed. Like an aura of shifting mist around it, the darkness of the room rippled and moved, and you realised it really was floating beside your bed, one hand tethered to the headboard, the other near your shoulder.

“Can you speak?”

The creature paused, going still, and the air in the room thrummed with a sudden tension. Your lungs squeezed and your ribs creaked under the pressure of it.

Eventually the strain on the atmosphere snapped, and a rasping, polyphonous voice from somewhere to your right hissed, “Yes.”

Stunned, you could only lie there as it remained beside you, suspended and shifting like waterweed in a lazy current.

“What do you want?” you managed to croak. You still couldn’t move anything else but your eyes and your mouth. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Again, the air seemed to vibrate, and a chill ran through you.

“Is that you?” you asked. “Are you doing that?”

This time it took longer for the creature to make a sound, but it nodded slowly first. Its claws returned to your body and you gasped as the muscles unlocked and you found you were able to move again. Scrabbling to sit up, you blinked, and the creature twitched, lurching backwards away from you like a skittish horse.

“You can’t be… You’re afraid of me?” you blurted, almost laughing. It didn’t seem like it wanted to hurt you or scare you any more, but the surreal vision beside your bed was enough to keep your heart pounding. “Are you Death?”

Its wide maw stretched open again, revealing its mouthful of deadly teeth, and you balked, fear leaping into your throat again as you clutched the sheets around you like a child. Those claws could slice a sheet - or a body - to ribbons, and yet you clung to them.

It reached out slowly for your ankle, latching its long fingers around the joint, and you choked out a whimpering yell. Knowing you were alone in the house, with Reginald out on his nightly business and the only other apartment in the building still unoccupied, your fear crescendoed to a peak and your words failed you.

With what appeared to be a gargantuan effort, the entity paused, then inhaled, and then chorused, “Not. Death. You… fear… me…”

No shit, you thought. “What do you want?”

“Fear… is… all I… know… Without it… I am… nothing.”

Was that sadness that tinged its many voices? Was there more than just one entity within those constantly-twisting shadows?

“Just… me,” the creature murmured, half-turning away and releasing its solid grip around your leg.

The emotion in those two words made something crack inside you. “You’re lonely…” you breathed, and the creature began to tremble, glitching like a badly aligned SCART connection.

In that instant, your fear drained out of you to be replaced by a wave of compassion, and the tension left your muscles. Whatever this was, it was alone as well.

The creature’s form continued to flicker, and as you blinked in confusion, the misty veil covering them seemed to boil off, leaving nothing but the emaciated, charred-looking skeletal figure beneath, strangely vulnerable for just a heartbeat before it seemed to evaporate away altogether.

The stillness in the room left your mind reeling as you sat there. Had you dreamed the whole thing?

Scrambling, your fingers found the light switch beside the bed, and you squinted and scowled as harsh, yellow light flooded the room at the click of a button. Nothing was out of place beyond, and no hint of creeping shadows drew your eye.

“Are you still there?” you whispered, but after waiting for what felt like hours, you got no answer.

If you returned to sleep at all that night, it would be a miracle, but still you tried. Lying in the dark a good while later, and curled on your side with your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t help straining your hearing for the slightest hiss of claws on fabric, but nothing came, and eventually, you must have drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Remarkably, no nightmares plagued you that night, and when you woke the next morning, you felt oddly peaceful and well rested for a change.  

You stretched and yawned, and only remembered about the strange experience from the night before when the soft weave of the cotton sheet snagged across your ankle and a sharp prickle made you frown.

Upon investigation, you discovered a long, thin scratch in your skin, as if a cat had nicked you with its claws in passing.

You froze.

It had not been a dream after all.

For the next two nights, nothing unusual happened, unless you counted the fact that you actually slept well for the first time in weeks. You found it almost physically impossible to make it past midnight, whereas before you’d frequently seen midnight tick by and vanish into the past as you lay there with prickling eyes and an exhausted, restless body, anxiety tingling along your nerves, counting the minutes as time ticked closer to dawn.

Astonishingly, as you faced the interviewer on Monday morning, you felt alert and almost chipper.

The naga smiled and held out a hand to you as she wrapped the interview up. “Thank you so much for your time,” she said. “You’ll hear back from us tomorrow, most likely, but let me say now that I was extremely impressed.”

Your brows rose and she laughed kindly at your evident surprise. “Thank you,” you croaked, and left politely before you ruined anything.

That night, you lay back alone on your bed after celebrating with Francis again, spread-eagled and stared at the ceiling. The old-fashioned plaster moulding made it look like you were underwater, especially if the huge tree outside swayed in the wind and cast shifting, kaleidoscope patterns on it. A cold draft prickled over you and you shivered. “Is that you?” you asked almost hopefully, wondering if the nightmare creature was back.

Nothing.

With a huge sigh, you looked around without moving, nervous in case you spooked it. “Listen, if you’re the one that’s given me such amazing sleep lately, then… well… thank you. I think I might have got the job…”

A movement in the darkest corner of the room caught your attention, but when your gaze landed on it, all was as it should be.

“Seriously, if you’re there, please… let me know.”

Again, you experienced that strange pulling sensation, like some kind of energy was being drawn from the room, and as you sat up, your bedside lamp flickered. In front of the darker form of your dressing gown on the back of the door, something had begun manifesting into a tall, slender figure. Shrouded as before in shadow, the creature glided forwards, every bit like a nightmare, and your heart thudded.

“Afraid…” came a chanting, polyphonic voice, “And yet not…? How?”

“Have you seen yourself lately?” you hissed. “You’re kind of intimidating. What are you?”

“Nightmare…” it hissed.

You blinked. “You’re a literal nightmare?”

Its claws glinted in the half-light of your small bedside lamp as it just hung there, swaying softly like a corpse on a gallows. “Yes.”

“What are you doing here? Does Reginald know you live here?”

It turned away and you saw a ribcage jutting out like a mummy’s fragile body, though every inch of them was a soft, matte black, pock marked like volcanic stone.

It shook its head. “I found you…” it croaked in its struggling, faltering voice. “Your fear… drew me… to you.”

“You vanished when I stopped being afraid,” you said and again, the creature nodded.

“I was using your fear to… manifest. Without it… I could not stay.”

“But you’re not using my fear now, are you?” you were excited, your heart was pattering out a wild rhythm, but you weren’t afraid.

It shook its head.

“How?”

Turning towards you, it brought up one lethally clawed hand and let a tendril of wisping black smoke play through its dead-looking hand. The fingers were longer than a human’s, and tipped in those sickle claws. “You sleep… better now,” it said, as if that explained everything.

Sitting there on the bed, you frowned. “Yeah, the nightmares have gone and — wait, are you… are you feeding on other nightmares?”

Slowly, the creature nodded. “I fought one that night, for you…” it rumbled. “I won. Now… they fear me.”

“And me? Do I have to fear you?”

The nightmare shook its shrouded head, the fabric wafting slowly as it billowed around the skeletal body beneath.

“So why are you here? Why me?”

“May I… come closer?” it asked.

“So long as you’re not going to hurt me,” you said in a reedy, weak voice. “A bit closer is fine…”

Hovering, the nightmare seemed uncertain, but then made up its mind and loomed a fraction nearer. This close, the glow from your lamp gilded the empty sockets of its skull and showed the stretching maw, and while you might not have been terrified any longer, it certainly made you wary.

“Will not hurt you…” the creature snarled. “I swear it.”

“Ok, fine, but you can’t blame me for being a bit… you know… I’ve never met anything like you before, and you are technically in my apartment…”

“Should I leave?”

Probably, but you found you didn’t want that just yet. “No, not yet. Can you answer some more of my questions?”

It shrugged. “I will try. Remaining here is tiring though. I don’t have much time left.”

“Where do you go?”

“There are many realms beside yours… Nightmares exist… in the cracks between, belonging nowhere, lingering only a while…”

“Sounds lonely,” you muttered.

“It is. That is why I stayed. You… You spoke to me, even when you were afraid. I have never had that before.”

The mist moved like snakes between its fingers and you watched, half mesmerised. “Your claws… are they why I couldn’t move?”

It nodded. “Sleep paralysis causes… much fear. I’m sorry I had to… frighten you to show myself.”

You snorted and pulled your legs close to sit cross legged on the bed, staring at the hovering nightmare in your room. It was so surreal, you wondered if you’d hit your head on the way home. “You tried to reassure me at the same time as scaring me shitless didn’t you?”

It flashed its claws again and swung a close to you. “Soft,” it purred, now mere inches from your face.

This close up, you found yourself frightened again. The horror of its empty black eyes, its gaping maw full of black, pointed teeth, the coiling shadows around it, its skeletal hands with tipped with onyx scythes… and yet, they smelled like the very best of winter nights; slightly smoky with a coldness that, as you inhaled, stung the back of your throat.

“Afraid, and yet not,” it repeated.

“Can I touch you?”

The nightmare clearly had not been expecting that, but nodded. Trembling, you brought your fingertip to its cheek. The skin was cool and hard like leather, but a fine mist floated around them, and you realised that the shroud wasn’t cloth at all, but intangible and made simply of smoke and shadow. The creature shuddered and you pressed your whole palm to their face as they leaned into your touch.

A moment later, they began to flicker and let out a broken moan. “I cannot stay.”

“Come back?” you whispered.

The mouth that held the promise of death, with all those teeth, suddenly smiled and they nodded. After that, they vanished.

Another week went by, but as you faced the fears of starting a new job, and the nearer that your starting date drew, the better you slept.

“It’s you again, isn’t it?” you asked the empty, black room on the night before you started work. “Come on, come out. You’ve been trying to manifest all week. I can feel it.”

Rippling out of the darkness, the nightmare swayed towards your bed and hung in the space beside it, drifting.

“Thank you,” you smiled and stood up. The nightmare didn’t move as you walked towards it, and this time when you reached for it, the creature did anticipate it, wafting closer, apparently keen for the contact. “I actually missed you, you know?” you said as the creature’s whole body quivered.

It brought its hand up to your face in a mirror of your gesture and brushed the curved back of its claws against your cheek. It tingled but you were still able to talk.

“You can touch me,” you whispered, drawing it back towards your bed by taking its skeletal fingers in yours.

Having its permission, the nightmare raked those claws through your hair with a tenderness that left you breathless. “Let me take the fear from you…” it murmured.

Examining your feelings, you discovered a small knot of anxiety about tomorrow, and smiled. “Leave me a little bit, ok? Trust me, a bit of nerves helps.”

Nodding, it leaned close and inhaled.

Standing there beside the bed, your body ignited with what could only be described as a deep and yearning lust, and you gasped, knees going weak. The nightmare caught you as you swayed, head spinning, and laid you easily down on the bed, despite the fact that it hardly looked strong enough to withstand a slight draft.

“What…?” you gasped, core burning.

The creature looked at a loss as it hung in the space beside your bed.

“I’m assuming this has never happened to you before?” you snorted, feeling a little recovered. “How lonely do I have to be to get turned on by a literal nightmare?”

A chuffing laugh made you look back at them.

“You find that funny too?” you asked and they nodded. “Well, if I’m honest… now that I know you’re not going to hurt me, I think you’re kind of beautiful.”

A soft, broken, crooning sound escaped them and they floated nearer, hovering over your bed and extending a hand to stroke talon-tips down your cheek again. “You are beautiful,” it murmured in all its numerous, whispering voices.

“Touch me,” you breathed.

“It will paralyse you,” they snarled, leaning backwards. “I can only… control it for so long.”

“But you won’t hurt me, and it’ll wear off, right?”

They nodded.

“Then touch me… please… I… I want your touch,” and you did. In a way you’d never felt with anyone else, human or otherwise, you needed them.

Rearing closer to you, the creature hung in the air above you like a cloud. It raked its claws down your body, but instead of shearing your clothes open, they simply evaporated, reappearing on the floor nearby in a tangled, crumpled heap.

“Neat trick,” you muttered before gasping as their hands landed on your bare torso, spreading their fingers wide and inhaling again. “Magic?”

“In dreams, anything is possible. We are not bound by your laws.”

“Of course not, but you’re —” you cut off sharply as they opened their mouth and a long, black tongue slithered free and coiled around your hardening nipple. You lurched and your back arched before falling back onto the bed. A tingling spread rapidly all down your right side as their hands gripped you more strongly now.

Working steadily first down one side and then the other, the nightmare scraped its teeth over you in a hundred scratching lines that made you want to yelp and buck, but their paralysis had begun to sweep over you. Every almost-bite it chased with its soothing, teasing, paralysing tongue and fingertips until you could do nothing but tremble and twitch beneath its touch.

A voice hissed, “I will know if you want me to stop,” and you let the last of your fears slide away, giving into the intense pleasure that their mouth offered on your body.

Finally, breath heaving, you felt your release crashing towards you. Never before had you been utterly immobile like this. You wanted to thrash and buck, to squirm and writhe - the pleasure was so intense and visceral that you needed to scream, but the nightmare held you in its grasp and wrung your release from you with relentless focus. Before you could recover fully, it demanded a second orgasm hot on the heels of the first and you thought you might shear apart with the force of it.

Gasping for breath, you begged silently to be allowed to move again, and as it sat back, that long, clever tongue lapping up the last of your release, it touched you once again and your body went slack.

“Oh my god,” you panted. “I’ve never come like that…”

“Your… energy,” they whispered, touching their fingers and thumb together as if their skin was tingling too. Something cool and dark slid over your leg and you looked down to find black liquid dripping from their robes, all over your legs from where they were hovering above you.

You had to laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re switching careers to an incubus now?”

The nightmare looked at you. “It’s just you,” they said. “I want only you.”

“If you’re going to make me come like that, I think we could come to an arrangement…”

The creature grinned, showing all its deadly teeth, and you lay back and stared at the ceiling for a long time, drained and tired but deeply satisfied. You didn’t even notice yourself sliding into a blissful sleep.

When you woke with your alarm the next morning, there was no trace of the creature, but on the back of the door as you were preparing to leave, you found the words ‘good luck’ scraped into the surface of the wood.

“You’d better come back and fix that tonight,” you grumbled with a smile on your face as you spotted it. Even as you stared at it, the wood melted back into the shape it had always been before, and in its place, a simple, line-drawn heart appeared.

You snorted. “See you later,” you said as you grabbed your coat and headed out. “And… well… thank you.”

___

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[imagine-lcorp]

Written In The Stars (One Shot)

Request

Hi! Can I request something like Lena falling in love with an alien reader?

A/N: Hey guys!!! First one shot of the year!!! Let’s hope we can keep the rhythm this time...also I broke my phone so I’ll probably be less active on the app...the writing is still going tho so yaaay! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and as always, let me know what you think! Love ya beautiful people! 

Lena Luthor x Alien!R//Word Count: 2,204 -------------------------------------------------------

When she was younger, Lena Luthor used to look at the night sky with infinite awe. The map of stars that hung above the Earth had been the place where she could find solace and a sense of peace. The stars were never alone, always needing one another to form their constellations. They reminded her she was also not alone even if it seemed like it.

However, as she grew up most of that wonder translated into scientific interest, which started to diminish as she found herself enthralled by more practical sciences. The sky, as vast as it was, was a mystery she recognized she couldn't unravel in her lifetime. She needed to focus on more earthly things, but she was content to be another curious viewer of such canvas of light.

Being a curious viewer, however, was something that changed abruptly when the existence of extraterrestrial life was proven by no other than Superman. Even more when it was known the Earth had been a refuge for many more aliens than it was possible to believe. The stars had reached the Earth, and they came bearing their own cosmic forms of life.

The population had been divided between those that accepted and welcomed the space travelers and those that rejected the idea, defending their right to their land and planet, fearful of an unstoppable invasion, living with the enemy and whatnot. For a while, Lena found the latter to be a matter of great concern. She wanted people to feel safe and believed they had the right to know who among them was or not an alien.

It wasn't until Kara came to knock that idea off, presenting her with an alternative story and reminding her that those aliens too had a right to their own freedom. She opened her eyes to the reality most of them lived. They were mmigrants of desolated planets, seeking shelter from wars and just like Superman, seeking a new home after their planets had been shattered. There were a few bad seeds, yes, but most of them were only looking for a better life. Wasn't that enough to give them a vote of confidence?

Her alien detection device was then transformed into an image inducer, a new gadget that helped aliens conceal their true appearance if they wished to look physically human. It was great to blend with the crowd, and it was a great success in the alien market.

"Miss Luthor, Kara Danvers is waiting for you in the conference room." Jess told her one day as she arrived to the office.

"Kara?" She found herself surprised by the sudden visit of the journalist. "Does she want another interview?"

"No, she has come along with someone else. She said she only needed a few minutes with you."

"Alright." Lena said leaving her purse on her desk and taking a couple of files from Jess to revise them later. "Let's see what it is."

Lena Luthor entered her conference room to find two figures chatting amicably at the room table. One she could recognize immediately, with her golden locks and bright smile, the other she had no idea who it was but as soon as your eyes were on her she was curious to find out.

"Lena!" Kara said rising from her chair, with you following suit. "Thank you for meeting us in such short notice. We promise not to take too much of your time."

"Kara, of course. How can I help?"

"Well, actually, I would like to introduce you to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." At the mention of your name, you stepped forward, extending your hand to Lena. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Luthor."  

"Lena, please." She said taking your hand.

"Then, please, call me (Y/N)." You said with a firm grip and a kind smile, something rare for Lena to see during those days.

"(Y/N) is the leader of an alien race residing in National City." Kara continued with a proud stance.

"Is that so?" Lena replied with a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk on her lips. "Is (Y/N) your real name?"

Lena's words prompted a chuckle from you, and you decided to clarify before there were any misunderstandings.

"It's my chosen Earth name. I don't think you have enough tongues to be able to pronounce the real one." You said with a playful smile. "Also, I wouldn't go that far. I am what you would call a representative, and it is of a small group only. Miss Danvers here is just too kind."

"She is, indeed." Her smile only grew bigger as she saw Kara fail to conceal a little pout.

"Well, you're still a great representative." Kara said.

"But to what do I own the honor of you visit?" Lena said gesturing to you to take your seats again. Kara smiled at you and moved along with you towards your seats.

"Right." You said pulling a small box from your jacket. "I'm here to deliver this."

Lena took the little box from your extended palm, her curiosity growing as she inspected its contents. Inside she found a little black matte icosahedron, nothing extraordinary by the looks of it.

"What is this?" She finally asked.

"The alien community wanted to thank you for creating the image inducer. It has helped a lot of people, especially those of us that don't exactly fit into the human shape." You started to explain as she inspected it.

After the launch of her device, Lena recalled, the company had received countless letters and e-mails, most of them in gratitude for helping the aliens in National City as they were still fighting for acceptance within the human population. It helped them find jobs, housing and places to be without having to worry about their looks or if other people reacted negatively to them. It helped them feel safe.

Only then Lena understood the impact it had on other's peoples lives and how her work had helped them accomplish that.

"So this is a thank you gift." You moved your hand and placed a finger on one side of the icosahedron.

Lena was startled as the other sides of the new device in her hand started to open. Suddenly the room was filled with a clear colorful light, but it was more than that. It was lines and spheres and points and spirals well defined. It took her a moment to realize what it was but Lena found herself looking around the conference room with a fascination she thought she had long lost. As the conversation followed, you explained Lena the device in her hand was a space chart. It contained information about several planetary systems, their galaxies and stars, and common routes to reach them, you said as if it was nothing but a travel guide.

Lena turned her eyes towards you a few seconds later, ready to declare her own gratitude when she noticed your expression. You were staring at a far corner of the room, not with the usual distant look of a daydreamer or that of someone who has lost interest in the present moment. You were looking with intention and, more than that, with longing in your eyes.

"It's wonderful. Thank you." Lena finally said, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked a few times before the smile returned to your face.

"If you ever wish to know a bit more about what's out there, you can always consult it and if you need help navigating it, I'll be more than happy to help."

Lena thought about it for a moment more. While she had long ago left her intentions of unraveling the skies, she saw a chance within those stars. This was the opportunity she had been hoping to find in National City. If she could gain the trust of the alien community, she would be able to expand her work and better help not only them but the whole city. To help put the world back together instead of tearing it apart. She was more grateful then to you, for giving her that chance.

Besides, she thought, it was also a chance to fulfill her curiosity about you.

It wasn't long after that meeting that you were back at her office, teaching her how to use the space chart. Her attention bouncing from the lines of stars and planets to understanding the technology behind the device. While her studies on science and astronomy made it easy for her to identify the structure and functioning of the chart, and the several celestial bodies it showed, she still had to learn how to translate that into terms she knew and relearn the names people used to refer to their own planets and stars. You did your best trying to explain how both things worked, which she highly appreciated.

As days passed, Lena took a new liking to your teachings which turned into more personal reunions. You didn't limit yourself to talking just about stars or planets but about the different cultures that inhabited them. Mentions of your home planet became more regular and you even used it to contrast the big differences between Earth and the rest of worlds you had known. Lena was delighted to indulge in such conversations, taking in as much as it was possible.

The way you talked about your home planet, your country, if such concept even applied, your family, your house, everything, was enough for her to look at you with the same awe she used to look at the stars when she was younger. She knew she wouldn't get to know all the stars in the universe but just knowing you, she thought, made up for it all.

"The sunsets there were hours of golden light washing over the citadel, and the nights were, oh, the night was too beautiful with its waves of light across the sky." You told her one day as you both had finished one of your reunions.

You were leaning against Lena's balcony, both of you observing the sun go down behind the city skyline.

"You know, I don't think you have ever showed me where you're from." Lena said, crossing her arms and taking a step towards you, seizing the opportunity. You had showed Lena at least dozens of planets, especially those closest to Earth's solar system but yours, for everything you talked about it, somehow still remained a mystery.

Lena felt a slight pang in her chest as she saw the smile in your face turn sad.

"No, I suppose I haven't." You said and after a moment, where you seemed to ponder a few options, you moved your head, signaling Lena to follow you back inside her office.

You took the space chart from her desk, activating it and moving your hands again until the hologram in the room moved, showing a single planet in the center of the room. You took a few steps back and gestured to Lena to take a closer to look at it.

"Here it is."

The planet, surrounded by seven moons, was a very Jupiter look-a-like. Lena was instantly enthralled by the colors and the stripes, swirls and waves that formed the planet's atmosphere. The hologram displayed a name in a language Lena certainly didn't know and that made her wonder just how many tongues she would need to pronounce it correctly.

"It's beautiful." Lena said, still looking at it.

"It was." You replied, and she turned to look at you with a confused frown and a question clear in her face.  

You moved the chart once more, reducing the image to show the whole system your planet used to be a part of.

Lena saw other nine planets but only one caught her attention as its name was being displayed in an alphabet she actually recognized.

"Krypton." She whispered, eyes widening in shock.

Everyone already knew the story. How the almighty Kryptonians had traveled to Earth when their own planet had been destroyed. But no one, including her, had thought too much about what it had meant for the rest of their own little universe. Lena imagined it then, an explosion setting a chain reaction. Not only one but several worlds shattered, with their people trying to escape the path of destruction.

Lena's eyes landed on you once more, finally understanding the longing she had once seen in your own eyes. She also knew, in some way, what it was to lose your home. So she approached you, slowly taking your hand and muttering an apology, for whatever little comfort it could give you.

"It's alright." You said looking intently at her with a reassuring smile. "I found a new home."

"And I'm glad you found it here."

You made her feel at home, Lena thought and, as she smiled back at you, she thanked the stars for giving you both the chance to find a home along each other, and hopefully, one day, a home for you both.

[chibimyumi]

Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible????  Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^