#he asked what happens if electricity hits a magnet

[incandescentflower]

well this is a first. my kid is using scientific inquiry to delay bedtime now.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

As one

Warning ⚠️; None, for once

Pairing; Barry Allen/Male!Reader

Summary; Barry wasn't the only speedster made that night; there were you as well. But what no one saw coming was the bond that was created between you.

Note; a little Barry/male reader story for y'all! I wanted some soulmate like story so I made one!

~~~~~~~~~~

Eversince that storm, eversince you were hit by lightning, you were able to run faster than anyone else. So fast that you could run on water and on the faces of buildings. You had to be careful still to not burn your clothes or shoes and needed to eat enough calories to not pass out.

But there was something else happening. Each time you ran, you felt a pull as if someone or something was trying to call you somewhere. Like a magnet while you were a piece of metal. It was a longing for something you didn't know, like a piece of you was missing.

One day, you couldn't take it anymore and just ran. You ran following the pull and didn't stop, no matter how many rivers or forests you traversed. It wasn't long until you reached a city you heard of months ago; Central City.

There, the pull was stronger, almost asphyxiating.

You walked around, not wanting to use your powers and risk being discovered. The city was calm, especially at night. It felt strangely familiar to you like a scene from a dream.

You soon found a small apartment and a good job, allowing you to live there until you understood what had pulled you there. To your surprise, Central City wasn't a peaceful place. Meta-humans like you often attacked the city as various villains. Sometimes robbers or murderers even both!

And then there was the local hero.

The red flash.

The first time you saw him, you felt the air fill with electricity as if a lightning storm was about to happen. All around you time seemed to freeze as the Flash passed in front of you. For a fraction of a second you thought you shared a look, but before you could confirm he was gone.

After that, you felt empty and cold. Your body would shiver and spam by moment and it was almost as if you were in withdrawal. Which was stupid, you couldn't get drunk and most drugs didn't affect you. It took a few days, but then you were back to normal.

During that time you noticed that the Flash was also missing. He wasn't seen until you felt better. You wondered if it was a coincidence. But it was impossible. Why would the hero be down at the same time as you? Why would you two be down in the first place?

Then you noticed people following you. Three in particular, two men and one woman. They weren't discreet at all and you almost wanted to confront them. Almost. Because one in particular caught your attention; the tallest man. Each time you would come across him you would feel the same electricity as when you saw the Flash.

Then one day you touched and to your surprise, you got electrocuted. A little squeak left you while the man almost jumped away. You stood still, eyeing each other in shock.

- “I’m so sorry! I don't know why that happened.” the stranger said, looking at your hand.

- “It's fine, but I would like to know why you've been following me around with your friends.”

You almost laughed seeing the expression on the man's face. Clearly, he didn't think you had noticed them. Again, he excused himself profusely which made you laugh this time.

- “Well, can I get the name of my stalker?” You asked amused.

- “Barry, Barry Allen.” The stranger presented himself, passing a hand in his hair awkwardly.

With Barry, you went somewhere more private and he got you some food. As you ate he explained why he and his friends had been following you; they suspected you were a meta-human.

They were right.

For some reason, you trusted Barry immediately and told him everything; how you were hit by lightning and gained superspeed then the strange pull that forced you to come to Central City. To your surprise, Barry had the same story. Exactly the same, except he resisted the pull until the day you first shared a look.

Because Barry was the Flash.

To say you were astonished would be an euphemism.

Why was a hero stalking you? Why was he and his friends curious about your statue as a meta-human? So many questions and they were all worrying to you.

Barry of course saw your reaction and tried to calm you down and reassure you, but no matter how safe you felt with him you couldn't deny how fuck up the situation was. So you did the only sane thing that came to your mind; you ran away.

You didn't expect Barry to follow you, but he did. He ran by your side, begging for you to listen to him. As you danced around each other, running throughout the city, Barry begged for your for forgiveness again, but you didn't want to hear it. You knew he captured villains and you didn't want to end up in a cage.

So you kept running, trying to escape the city and Barry kept following you. It was strange how natural it felt running with him, like breathing. You didn't want it to ever stop and to your surprise, you somehow beat your personal speed record.

The pull was at its strongest too as air filled with more and more electricity. You could feel it crawling on your skin like thousands of spiders. As you looked at Barry, you could tell he felt the same euphoria.

Running with Barry was like a drug and it scarred you.

You stopped in an abandoned building, Barry by your side. You were both panting, but not because you were out of breath, but because of the feeling you got by running by each other side. Barry's pupils were dilated, making his eyes almost fully black and animalistic and you knew you weren't better.

You didn't move when Barry walked closer to you and closed your eyes as he grabbed your arms and pressed your foreheads together. Breathe shivering, you melted against Barry just like he did against you. The pull was gone, leaving only a feeling of unity between Barry and you.

You felt as one with Barry.

- “Please, come with me. Don't leave, I am begging you to stay with me.” Barry whispered, his breath tickling your lips. “Come with me, I have people to present to you and who are eager to meet you.”

- “Okay… okay…” You replied, voice barely audible.

S.T.A.R. Labs were different that what you had imagined. The building was huge but empty and it felt as if you were walking in an open tomb. People have died because of this place just like others have become meta-humans like you. Criminals and Heroes rising because of a preventable explosion.

Barry stood by your side as you walked the empty corridors and he didn't leave your side as he introduced you to his friends. Caitlin and Cisco had a good sense of being ashamed and remorseful when you pointed out that you knew they had been following you. Even with their actions, you still found them friendly.

Cisco won you when he showed you the suit he made just for you. The same as the Flash but in a different colour. With it, you'll be able to run as fast as you want without ruining your clothes or shoes. You would be able to assist Barry as a hero.

But the one person who caught your attention was Dr Wells.

Unlike with Barry, the man gave you the creeps and you wanted nothing more than to run as far away from him as possible. The way he looked at you and Barry made you uncomfortable. He was like a predator wondering what prey to devour first. Yet you could only stay as he hypothesized about the bond between you and Barry.

- “You two are like magnets, attracting each other and amplifying your capacities. Fascinating!” He had said, sending shivers down your spine. “You two must have connected by being struck by lightning at the same time. I wonder how deep that bond goes.”

Feeling your uneasiness, Barry had taken you to his place. Meeting Joe West was a pleasure and the man welcomed you with open arms as he knew about Barry's second identity. No, the only one who met you with hostility was his daughter Iris. Even tho she was seeing someone, you could see the jealousy and envy in her eyes.

She didn't approve of you and let it be known even if Barry and you weren't nothing yet. You knew right then that she loved Barry more than a “brother” no matter if she was promised to someone else. But you didn't care. Barry had only eyes for you just like you for him.

Everyone knew that with time you two would let your relationship evolve. If for now, you were friends and partners, soon you would be more. You just wanted to take the time to learn about each other, not wanting to let the bond force you together and that was the best decision you could make.

And no matter the adversity you had each other back and stood as one against the world.

[ginxyy]

The first kiss

Part 2 to the mingyu first kiss

The following days after that kiss with Mingyu were a blur, filled with stolen glances, moments of quiet tension, and the unrelenting hum of guilt gnawing at my insides. I avoided Jun as much as I could without being obvious, trying to push down the weight of what had happened. Every time he laughed, every time he held my hand, it only reminded me of the secret I was keeping a secret that felt too heavy to bear.

Mingyu, on the other hand, was everywhere.

He’d show up at the café like clockwork, his presence effortlessly magnetic, drawing my attention no matter how hard I tried to resist. There was always a subtle tension hanging in the air between us, something neither of us acknowledged but couldn’t escape. Every time our eyes met, I felt that familiar warmth rush through me again, the memory of our kiss simmering just beneath the surface.

It didn’t help that Jun was oblivious, pulling Mingyu into every hangout, every double date, as if the universe itself was conspiring to place him in my path. Mingyu would sit across from me at dinner, his eyes flickering with an unspoken intensity that made my heart race. He was always there, always too close and yet too far, and the more I tried to act normal, the more I realized how impossible that was.

I had thought that maybe the kiss was just a one-time mistake, something I could bury in the past, but the way Mingyu looked at me told a different story. There was something between us, something neither of us could deny anymore.

One evening, after yet another group dinner that felt too stifling, I decided to take a walk to clear my head. The city streets were quieter, the sky painted in hues of deep purple and gold as the sun set. I wandered aimlessly, trying to sort through the mess of emotions tangled in my chest.

Then, as if summoned by my thoughts, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Hey.” Mingyu’s voice was low, almost cautious.

I stopped, my breath catching in my throat. I turned slowly to find him standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his eyes full of something raw, something that made my pulse quicken.

“Mingyu…” I began, not knowing what to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Are we just going to keep pretending like nothing’s happening?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with frustration. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t sit across from you, act like I don’t feel what I feel every time I look at you.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat, the truth too heavy to speak.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. “I know this is complicated. I know Jun is my best friend, and I hate that this is where we are, but I can’t help it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that kiss.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing against the carefully built walls I had tried to maintain. It was everything I had been trying to avoid admitting to myself, but hearing him say it out loud made it all too real.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of my confession. “I care about Jun, but… I feel something for you too. I don’t know how to handle any of this.”

Mingyu stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. His hand reached out, gently brushing against mine, and that same electric spark surged through me, just like it had that day in the café.

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unspoken promise. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes as I looked at him. “How? How can we do that without hurting him?”

Mingyu’s expression softened, and for the first time, there was something tender in his gaze, something that soothed the storm raging inside me. “We’ll find a way. I don’t have all the answers, but I know this—what’s between us, it’s real. And it’s worth fighting for.”

I looked away, torn between my feelings for him and the loyalty I felt to Jun. But even as I struggled, I knew deep down that Mingyu was right. What we shared, as complicated and messy as it was, couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper

“I am too,” he said, his hand finally taking mine, holding it with a gentle firmness that sent warmth through me. “But sometimes, the things that scare us the most are the things we need to face.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the weight of everything hanging between us. But in that silence, something shifted. The fear and guilt were still there, but there was also hope a small, fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, we could navigate this storm together.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice steadying as I looked up at him. “We’ll figure it out.”

Mingyu smiled, a soft, relieved smile that made my heart ache with the depth of emotion behind it. “I’m not letting you go,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

And in that moment, I knew I didn’t want him to.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of difficult conversations and raw emotions. I had to break Jun’s heart, telling him the truth about my feelings, about the connection I couldn’t deny with his best friend. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, and the pain in his eyes haunted me for days. But even through the heartbreak, there was a strange relief, a weight lifted from my chest.

It wasn’t easy. The fallout was messy, friendships were tested, and there were moments when I wondered if we’d ever make it through. But through it all, Mingyu stood by me, unwavering in his quiet support. He was there for me, not just in the big moments, but in the small ones too, reassuring me with a simple touch or a soft word when I needed it most.

And slowly, over time, we found our way.

What started as a dangerous, forbidden connection had grown into something real, something that anchored us through the chaos. We had to rebuild, piece by piece, but we did it together.

In the end, love won. Not the simple, easy kind of love, but the kind that was forged in fire, tested by trials, and strengthened by the decision to fight for it, no matter how hard it was.

As I sat with Mingyu on a quiet evening, watching the sunset from our favorite spot, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace. The tension, the drama, the unspoken feelings it had all led us here, to a place where we could finally be free to love without the weight of secrets hanging over us.

And as he leaned over to kiss me softly, I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together.

[sashaisready]

Chapter Fourteen - A new development

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

Warning: Near car/pedestrian collision, angst! Bucky still being terrible, but don't worry - a taste of his own medicine is teased in this chapter..

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 15

Series Masterlist

It had been nearly a week and you hadn't heard anything from Bucky since That Morning. You had replayed the events over and over in your head but you still didn't know what you'd done wrong, how you'd gone from falling asleep in Bucky's arms with his tender whispers in your ear...to being unceremoniously barged out of his house with the offer of fifty dollars for your trouble. Your best bet was that he wanted to sleep with you after all your back and forth over the last few months, and now he'd achieved that, the mask had slipped and he had no reason to play nice. Another notch in his bedpost. Another item off his to do list.

You knew at the time you should've asked him outright what exactly had changed, but you were hurt and embarrassed, and you lashed out in anger like you always did. And you didn't want him to think you were weak and pining over him.

Wanda had been shocked by the evening's sharp left turn after she'd gone home. You had caught her up in the bakery and she was disgusted by Bucky's actions. She had stood there angrily frosting a birthday cake while you recounted what happened, uttering a series of curses under her breath in response. Some were in Sokovian – you didn't know what she said but could tell they were bad.

You were hurt. You knew sleeping with someone didn't mean you were exclusive or they owed you anything, but you expected a bit more kindness and respect – especially from someone you had got to know quite well over the last few months.

But maybe that was your own naivete, you knew what Bucky did for a living – it wasn't a stretch to imagine that he would be just as cold in his personal life too.

It was a relatively quiet morning in the bakery when the bell went. You looked up smiling ready to greet the customer when you felt a wave of nausea hit you as you saw who it was.

Bucky walked in...with a beautiful blonde woman on his arm. She was stunning. Of course she was. She smiled at you sweetly and you managed a small one back at her before your eyes flicked over to Bucky.

He was stoic, unreadable. You glared at him, doing your best to convey your anger to him without completely losing it. He gave you a smirk in return.

Asshole.

Bucky knew this was a risky game. He hadn't spoken to you since you stormed out of his home and he missed you. He didn't know what to say, how to make it right. He knew he should stay away, he'd tried, he knew that you were too good for him – but he couldn't resist. You were like a magnet he couldn't avoid. He knew you were angry and he wanted to apologise but his pride was getting in the way.

He had drafted countless texts but sent none of them, he frequently brought your name up in his contacts and tried to summon the courage to press the call button. He wanted to go back to how it was before, teasing each other, bantering and besting one another. He thought if he could bait you into an argument then he could draw you out again, rile you up and see that electricity in your eyes he loved so much.

And what better bait was there than another woman?

You cleared your throat and greeted them sweetly. "Hi, welcome to Pepper's Bakery. How can I help you today?"

Thankfully your voice betrayed none of your true feelings. That was years of customer service experience paying off.

"Oohh..." said the blonde. "I mean it all looks so good but I'm on a diet right now and shouldn't be eating sweets...I'm sorry, I'm probably the last person you want in your store!" she giggled.

You had no interest in being cold to the woman, no interest in punishing her because of Bucky's childish little games. She hadn't done anything wrong, and she seemed nice enough. No, there was only one person to be angry at here.

"Well if you're ever in the neighbourhood and having a cheat day you're always welcome here" you told her warmly.

She smiled back at you and nodded encouragingly as she looked over at the display cases. Over her shoulder you looked at Bucky. You kept your face frozen, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting worked up, but your eyes made it clear you were unimpressed.

"I'll take a couple of danishes, and a cannoli" he told you gruffly.

Prick. And what ever happened to 'please'?

Your hands began to build the pink box on autopilot and you wordlessly packed his order.

Bucky frowned. He was hoping for fireworks, to push you that little bit further and ignite that anger within you, resulting in his favourite back and forth. He wanted to see the fire from you which always sent a quiet thrill through his belly.

But no. Nothing.

Your face was neutral, there was no fight in you. No appetite to go toe to toe with him.

He realised suddenly that he had gone too far. You weren't angry. You were hurt.

His eyes searched yours as you pushed the box over the counter at him and he pulled out his wallet. He was almost trying to communicate with you telepathically, telling you his true feelings and that you were all he thought about. You only stared back at him defiantly, eyes narrowing as you handed him the card reader. Your mouth was a thin line of disappointment.

He tried to smirk to see if that would light the fuse for the reaction he so desperately sought but you merely dropped his gaze.

He pulled a hundred dollar bill out and slid it across to you but you grabbed it from him, crumpled it into a ball with your fist and flung it back at him. He flinched as it struck his chest, then swept it back into his wallet.

"That won't be necessary" you said coldly, eyes burning into him again.

He tried to say something but you cut him off.

"Thanks for your custom Mr Barnes" you deadpanned, making it clear that this interaction was over.

"And lovely to meet you" you said to his companion in a kinder tone.

She earnestly grinned back at you. "I'm Allegra by the way".

Allegra then gushed about how lovely the shop was, peacefully oblivious to the tension in the room.

Wanda watched nervously from her side of the store as the scene unfolded, examining your face. She knew you were hanging on by a thread.

Bucky opened his mouth to speak but closed it again quickly. He wanted to apologise, to take it all back. He thought about how you felt in his arms. How your moans had sounded in his ear. How thrilled he'd been to finally get to that point with you...and now he'd ruined it. Ruined everything. Destroyed the foundations of everything he'd built with you. Guilt and shame overwhelmed him but he still wore his stoic mask.

You just continued to glare at him as Allegra spoke, your brow furrowed. You felt nausea rising up inside you once more. His eyes looked different now to the smugness they'd reflected when he walked in. Was there...regret in there? Surely not. He was probably relishing your humiliation.

Allegra hooked her arm with Bucky's and guided him to the exit as she shot you a cheerful goodbye. Bucky followed meekly, watching you intently over his shoulder as he left the store. His eyes were on you for as long as possible until he disappeared out of view.

You waited a moment before your knees finally buckled and you crashed onto the counter as the tears finally broke the dam and began to fall. Wanda was on you in an instant, her arms wrapped around your torso as she nuzzled her head into your back, quietly soothing you.

*

You were feeling a little more together when you closed up, locking the doors and stepping out onto the street. You had cried a bit in front of Wanda, embarrassed for her to witness your vulnerability but grateful for her comfort. She had asked if she could do a spell to punish Bucky which cheered you up, but you declined, insisting she shouldn't waste her precious energy on such unimportant subjects. You had managed to power through the rest of the day, throwing yourself into work and distracting yourself with customers as the clock finally rolled around to closing time.

Your tears had dried but you still felt awful. Embarrassed. Hurt. You didn't expect to marry Bucky after your night together and you knew that neither of you had made any commitments to one another. Still, cancelling your date and rubbing another woman in your face at your workplace was uniquely cruel. You felt stupid for allowing yourself to get caught up, to have feelings for him, for entertaining the idea that he might like you too. It was clear now that you were nothing but a plaything to him. A toy to wind up and watch it go. Something to amuse him, a way to blow off steam between whatever hideous mob business he was getting up to in his 9-5.

You understood now.

And that Allegra woman he was with - she was the type of girl he wanted on his arm. Tall, willowy, beautiful. The type of woman who looked like she'd stepped off a fashion magazine. A walking Instagram filter. Not you, who was pleasant enough to look at and fun for a quick fuck, but not someone you want to show off - not beautiful. How stupid you were.

You were lost in your thoughts as you wandered towards home. But not so oblivious as to miss the black SUV parked across the street, as subtle as a pink sock in a drawer of white ones. You waved mockingly at it and it slowly rolled around the corner out of view, but you could still glimpse the back of it if you squinted. You knew he wasn't in it as he would've made an appearance by now. Just his goons inside, most likely. Was it not enough that he'd humiliated you, he had his little lemmings following you again??

Your hurt began to mutate into anger as all of your emotions twisted and fizzed within you. All of the fury and outrage you felt towards Bucky was now channelled like a laser beam onto this stupid car. You let your rage lead the way as you stormed towards it, determined to give the occupants a piece of your mind regardless of how big or terrifying they might be.

Any common sense evaporated as you marched into the street in pursuit of the SUV. In fact, you were so single minded that you didn't even notice the yellow taxi speeding towards you until you heard the screech of brakes and tyres squealing on asphalt. You turned at the last second and caught a glimpse of the driver's panicked eyes before you realised it was about to hit you, and it was too late for you to move...

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced for impact as a forceful pressure wrapped itself around your torso and yanked you onto the sidewalk. Suddenly you were on the ground, trembling as you realised you were looking at the sky - wondering where the car had hit you. You thought it would hurt more than this, was it a bad sign that it didn't hurt? Oh god, were you paralysed and that's why it didn't hurt?! Wait...something else had hit you...

A handsome man with sandy brown hair popped into your view, his forest green eyes filled with concern as he watched you carefully. You glanced at him, realising you were laying on your back in the street.

"You all good? That was a close one huh??" he said. His voice was friendly, warm.

He turned to the cab driver who had parked up and was watching you just as nervously.

"She just came outta nowhere...I tried to stop but...I mean if you hadn't been there..."

"It's alright" said the green eyed man calmly, cutting him off. "She's fine, she just had a shock. Don't worry, I'll make sure she's okay".

The cab driver muttered angrily as he stepped back into his car and pulled away.

"Do you think you can sit up?" asked the green eyed man.

A few passers-by were watching with morbid curiosity. The man extended his hand to you and you took it gingerly, pushing yourself up as he pulled you upright so you were sitting up on your knees. You blinked, looking down at yourself to check you were still in one piece. You certainly seemed to be. Just slightly winded by how you hit the sidewalk.

"I'm okay" you said nervously as you wiggled your fingers and toes to check for any pain.

"Oh good, phew".

He sounded genuinely relieved. And kind.

"Did you...save me?" you asked with trepidation.

He smiled. "Saving is a bit of a strong word but right place right time I guess" he grinned. "I'm just sorry you had to eat sidewalk in the process".

You felt yourself soften at his caring smile, all of your anger and upset about Bucky suddenly gone. He seemed...nice. Really nice.

"Thank you. Really, thank you" you smiled bashfully as you stood up, brushing yourself down. "If you hadn't been there..."

You trailed off as you looked him up and down. He was dressed casually in a red leather jacket and dark jeans. A far cry from Bucky's expensive tailored suits. You could tell he was in good shape though, sturdy and strong. Handsome...

"I'm Peter" he said happily as he extended a hand to shake. "Peter Quill".

You took his hand and shook it shyly, giving him your own name in return.

"Of course you have a beautiful name too, why I am not surprised?" he said.

You blushed at the compliment, visibly taken aback by his forwardness. You weren't used to men picking you up so openly. It was a refreshing contrast to Bucky's little games – not having to wade through words and implications and figure out what exactly was meant.

He screwed his face up in embarrassment. "Oh God. I'm sorry. That was cheesy..." he said, his voice pained.

You chuckled, feeling yourself smile widely for the first time all day. "Actually it was very sweet" you countered.

He grinned at you, his eyes drifting over your dungarees. You felt a bit underdressed in your work attire, covered in flour and icing stains, suddenly wishing you were a bit more presentable.

"I like your overalls" he said.

"Thanks" you replied, fingers pawing nervously at the buckles. 

"I work at Pepper's Bakery down the street. Although I did realise earlier I'm wearing a yellow t-shirt with them today so I look a bit like a Minion..." you joked.

Peter's eyes widened with amusement. "Oh my god...you kinda do..." he spluttered.

You laugh uproariously. "You're not supposed to agree??" you snap incredulously.

"I'm sorry but it's true. But the minions are super cute right? So you fit right in..."

He shot you a wink and you felt a surge of warmth in your stomach. This was exactly the balm you needed after a horrible day.

"Pepper's huh? Love that place" he grinned.

You light up at that. "You do?? Oh that's great to hear. Yeah it's a nice place to work".

He nodded earnestly. "Best danishes in the city, in my humble view".

"I'll have to save you a few when you next come by. Y'know, least I can do for saving my life and all". The words seductively roll off your tongue before you even realise it.

You stop dead, wondering if you've been too forward with him. Bucky had really thrown you for a loop when it came to interacting with men. But Peter's grin just grew wider and he leaned in closer, his face near yours.

"And tell me...do you get much downtime? Time away from the bakery? Or is it all work and no play?"

His voice had dropped an octave as he moved in and his eyes locked onto yours. You find yourself instinctively leaning towards him too as your heart beats heavily in your chest. You're so close you could almost...kiss him.

"I do work shifts so my days off can be different. But I always have at least two off a week" you smile.

"Oh that's good, so a lotta free time to spend with your boyfriend then?" he asks coyly.

You giggle and your face flushes at yet another direct question. "No boyfriend, currently..."

Absolutely no-one, actually.

He nods again. "So, hypothetically...if I were to ask you out...you'd be able to meet me for dinner one evening?"

"Absolutely, hypothetically. But maybe we should stay away from cabs" you quip.

He laughed. "Sure. But I may need some pointers on where to go as I have no idea what minions eat..."

You exchange smiles as he passes his phone to you to add your number, which you give him gladly. You chat for a bit longer and suddenly Bucky feels like a distant memory. You've even completely forgotten the reason for your impulsive stroll into traffic.

As you say goodbye to Peter and practically skip home with glee, the SUV emerges from its poor hiding spot and follows you from a safe distance. In the passenger seat Clint pulls out his cell, hitting the first number on his speed dial.

"Boss...uh, a new development for you..."

*

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi Nausicaa! I’ve recently found your blog and as a future doctor (final year med school, good lord), I was thrilled to find out that you wrote a story with a doctor!reader (Healing Touch). May I request a follow up to it? Maybe she does go to the show and while she loves the music and energy, she is rather concerned cause the girls flash the guys and she sees James enjoying it. When she is taken by a crew member backstage, she thinks it’s cause James asked for her, but it turns out that the crew members was looking for pretty girls in the audience to help the guys with their famous showers (my brain says it’s horrible, but in reality I’d definitely do it for James)? She feels disgusted, as she trusted James, so she leaves; shes also very mad at herself for trusting him, as a smart educated woman- she should have known better.

Since she’s not replying to his calls, James goes to hospital himself, as he thinks she didn’t like the show or something like that. Reader confronts him, as he was saying things things that made her feel special, but in the end, he was enjoying looking at half naked girls and asked her backstage only to treat her as a groupie. James explains that while he feels guilty for ogling, he never went to showers with girls, but instead went looking for her - but the crew member got to her earlier? And after that for all shows she gets like a “girlfriend” backstage pass? So he can always have her around?

I understand that in the reality, chances of this happening is not zero, it’s actually negative. But the reason I like this app, and your blog in particular, is that because it lets boring, nerdy girls like me dream of being together with someone completely out of my league, even if just for a few minutes while I’m reading the story. Thank you for letting us all dream ❤️

Thank you so much! It makes me happy when you say that my story can make you dream, and for me, it's my goal to make my readers dream, even if it's just for a few minutes. Best of luck in your final year, Doctor! ❤

__________

Healing Touch: A New Beginning

The concert was electric. The stadium lights pulsed in time with the music, the crowd a sea of movement and sound. I couldn’t help but get swept up in it—the thrum of the bass, James’ gravelly voice echoing through the night, the sheer energy pouring off the stage. It was intoxicating, magnetic.

But then, it happened.

At first, I wasn’t sure I’d seen it correctly. The woman a few rows ahead of me leaned forward, lifting her shirt with a playful grin, baring herself to the band. My breath hitched as I saw James’ reaction—his grin widening, a spark of appreciation in his eyes as he gestured to the guitarist, laughing.

I tried to shake it off. It’s part of the show. It doesn’t mean anything. But as it happened again and again—women flashing the stage, James soaking in the attention like it fueled him—it gnawed at something deep inside me.

It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. It was something colder, sharper. Doubt.

The show ended with a roaring crescendo, fireworks bursting above the stage as the crowd erupted in cheers. I clapped too, unable to deny how incredible the performance had been, but my excitement had dulled.

A crew member approached me just as I was preparing to leave. He was young, wearing a lanyard and holding a clipboard.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice polite but rushed. “Would you mind coming backstage? Mr. Hetfield would like to see you.”

My heart skipped. James wanted to see me.

I followed him through the maze of hallways, the air heavy with the smell of sweat and beer. But as we approached the green room, I overheard a snippet of conversation:

“...Just grabbing a few from the front. You know how it is—showers are ready.”

The words hit me like a slap. I stopped in my tracks, my pulse pounding.

“Wait,” I said, my voice sharp. “What’s this about showers?”

The crew member froze, looking sheepish. “Uh, it’s just a thing we do. You know, for the guys after the show. Keeps the energy up.”

“And you thought I was here for that?” My voice cracked, humiliation flaring hot and fast.

He stammered, “I just—uh—Mr. Hetfield didn’t say anything specific, so I just assumed—”

“Unbelievable.” My chest tightened, anger and embarrassment swirling in a toxic mix.

I didn’t give him a chance to explain further. Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the venue, leaving behind the noise, the lights, and every lingering thread of trust I’d foolishly given to James Hetfield.

The next few days were a blur of anger and self-recrimination. I ignored his texts, his calls, even the messages he sent through my coworkers. How could I have been so stupid? So naive?

I was a doctor—a professional, educated, logical. Yet I’d let myself believe that James saw me as something different, something special. Instead, I was just another face in the crowd.

It was a week later, during a lull in my shift, that I heard his voice again.

“I’m here to see her,” James said, his voice unmistakable even from the nurse’s station.

I froze, my hands gripping the counter. A moment later, one of the nurses poked her head into the break room.

“He’s not leaving until you talk to him,” she said, half-annoyed, half-amused.

I sighed, squaring my shoulders before walking out to meet him.

He was standing there, his usual confidence tempered with something softer—nervousness, maybe. His leather jacket looked a little out of place in the bright hospital hallway, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, but the smile faltered quickly at my expression.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said coolly, crossing my arms.

“I had to come,” he said, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. “You weren’t answering my calls. I thought... I don’t know, maybe you didn’t like the show, or I did something to upset you. I just need to know what happened.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “What happened? I trusted you. I thought you wanted me there because you cared, but instead, I got treated like some groupie plucked from the crowd for your famous post-show ‘activities.’”

His eyes widened, alarmed. “Wait, what? Groupie—what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know?” I asked, my tone cutting. “Your crew brought me backstage, saying you wanted to see me. Next thing I hear, they’re looking for girls for the ‘showers.’ You really expect me to believe that wasn’t you?”

His expression shifted, genuine shock giving way to frustration. “No. That wasn’t me. I would never... I didn’t know they’d bring you back like that.”

I crossed my arms tighter, my voice shaking with anger and embarrassment. “Then why the hell was I there?”

“I asked them to find you,” he said quickly. “I wanted to talk to you after the show, but I didn’t say anything about showers or any of that crap. When I couldn’t find you, I figured you’d left. I didn’t realize...” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I swear to you, that wasn’t what I wanted.”

I stared at him, searching for any sign of deception, but his face was open, earnest.

“Why should I believe you?” I asked, the hurt lacing my voice like steel.

“Because you’re not just another face in the crowd to me,” he said, his voice steady but pleading. “I don’t want that. I want you. And if I screw this up, I’ll spend every day making it right. I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to me. It was a laminated pass, the word “GUEST” emblazoned in bold letters. Beneath it, in smaller print, was the word “GIRLFRIEND.”

“For every show,” he said quietly. “So there’s no confusion. So you’ll always know where you stand with me.”

I stared at the pass, my emotions tangled and raw. He’d embarrassed me, hurt me—but here he was, standing in the middle of my world, offering an apology in the only way he knew how.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You can,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll prove it to you. Every day, for as long as it takes.”

For a long moment, I didn’t move. Then, slowly, I reached out and took the pass.

“This is your last chance,” I said, my voice trembling but firm.

His relief was palpable, his smile soft and filled with gratitude. “I won’t screw this up,” he promised.

And for the first time since the concert, I let myself believe him.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

So like about that one TikTok I’ve sent you, I was thinking the most basic, every school girl dream, plot. Like the reader is a fan and she comes to see them live, stands there, Josh likes her, interacts with her during the show and then invites her backstage to do some dirty things

Loved your work about Tyler throughout the years, that was exactly what I was thinking about 💖💖💖🪬

Backstage - Josh Dun x Fem!Reader - Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (do not do that lol eww) + the trauma that comes with reading smut :)

Word Count: 2551

A/N: Sorry this took so long lol it was fun 😭 i tried second person pov and present tense so lmk if you prefer that. enjoy bestie :)

message for people who know me irl - FUCK OFF RN OR I WILL FIND YOU :)

You’ve never been this close to the stage before. The lights are blinding, and the bass thumps so loud you can feel it in your chest, vibrating through your entire body. You’ve seen Twenty One Pilots live before, but this is something different. This is intimate. Front row, close enough to almost touch the band, close enough to feel the energy pulse through you like an electric current.

The crowd around you screams as the music starts, and your heart races in anticipation. Tyler's voice fills the arena, smooth yet raw, while Josh sits behind the drums, pounding away with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. You can barely take your eyes off him. His cotton candy pink hair shines under the spotlights, his arms moving with impossible speed, muscles flexing with every hit. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on Josh, but seeing him this close is something else entirely. He is magnetic.

You try to focus on the music, letting yourself get lost in the moment like everyone else around you. But every now and then, your gaze drifts back to Josh. And that’s when it happens. For the briefest second, in the middle of a song, he looks directly at you. You’re not imagining it. His eyes flick over the crowd, then land on you. It’s like the air around you shifts. His lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then he goes back to drumming, but the connection lingers.

You brush it off, thinking it’s just a coincidence. After all, there are hundreds of people in the crowd. Why would he notice you? But as the show goes on, you keep catching him glancing in your direction. Every time, his gaze seems to linger a little longer. During the bridge of one song, he stands up, walks around the front of the stage while Tyler plays solo, and again, his eyes find yours. This time, he winks.

Your breath catches in your throat. Is this really happening? You can’t believe it. Your whole body feels like it’s buzzing, your skin tingling under the heat of his attention. It feels like the whole arena has faded away, and it’s just the two of you. His energy is palpable, almost overwhelming, and you feel yourself getting lost in it, in him.

As the show nears its end, you think that will be it. A few stolen glances, maybe a wink, and nothing more. But then, during the last song, Josh does something unexpected. He leans to the side between drum beats and says something to a security member. The man looks at you, and Josh nods before continuing to bash the drums.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur. You’re barely aware of the music anymore, your mind racing with possibilities. By the time the final notes ring out and the crowd erupts into applause, you’re trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. You can’t believe this is happening.

As fans start to leave the venue, you are still waiting at the front of the barricade. Your heart pounds, and you have no idea what to expect. You’re standing there, trying to calm your racing thoughts, when a hand taps you on the shoulder.

You spin around to find a security guard, towering over you with an unreadable expression. “I’ve been asked to bring you backstage,” he says.

You follow him through a maze of corridors, your pulse quickening with each step. Finally, you reach a door labeled ‘Dressing Room.’ The guard opens it, and you step inside, your stomach flipping with anticipation.

Josh is there, sitting casually on a couch, a towel draped over his shoulders, still damp from the show. He looks up as you enter, his smile widening. “Hey,” he says, standing up and crossing the room toward you. Up close, he is even more stunning. His skin glistens with sweat, and his eyes have that same intensity that drew you in earlier.

“Hi,” you manage to say, your voice shaky. You’re not sure what to do with your hands, so you shove them awkwardly into your pockets.

“You look like you’re having fun out there,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he looks you up and down. He stands so close now you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of sweat mixed with something else, something distinctly him.

“Yeah, I—I love your music,” you stammer, your cheeks burning.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you. “Thanks. I noticed you. All night, I kept catching your eyes.” He reaches out, brushing a stray hair from your face. His fingers linger against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to process what is happening. All you can focus on is how close he is, how his hand now rests lightly on your waist, drawing you even closer.

“I don’t usually do this,” he murmurs, his lips inches from yours.

Your breath hitches, and you find yourself leaning into him, drawn by some invisible force. “Do what?”

“This.” And then, without warning, he closes the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours.

The kiss is fierce, hungry, and you melt into it, your hands finally finding their place against his chest. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his heartbeat strong and steady. Josh's hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. The room spins, and all you can think about is him—his lips, his touch, the way he makes you feel like the only person in the world.

Things escalate quickly, the intensity of the moment wrapping you both up in a whirlwind of heat and desire.

Josh's lips move expertly against yours, igniting a fire within you that spreads through every cell in your body. You can taste the sweetness of his mouth, feel the slight roughness of his stubble against your soft skin. His hands roam over your curves, mapping out the contours of your body as if committing every inch to memory.

You press closer, your breasts flattening against his firm chest, your hips grinding instinctively against the hardness growing between his thighs. The friction sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you, making your head spin and your knees weak.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, Josh trails his lips along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before whispering, “God, you're beautiful.” His hot breath sends shivers down your spine, and you tilt your head to give him better access.

You groan softly as your lips meet his once more, pouring all of your pent-up desire into the kiss. His hands slide down your back, coming to rest on the swell of your hips as he pulls you flush against him. Fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, he holds you steady as you feel his hard length against you. The friction is maddening, stoking the flames of your arousal higher with each passing second.

“I want you so bad,” he breathes against your lips, his voice husky with need.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats. “God, I can’t get enough of your touch, your taste… everything about you just drives me wild,” he pushes you against the door.

“Fuck, Josh,” you groan, feeling everything. His hands roam your body with increasing urgency, squeezing your ass. Lips attacking your neck, he nips and sucks at the delicate skin there.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his words muffled against your throat. “I'll give it to you, anything, just please... let me make you mine.”

“God yes, yes,” you pant.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea what I’m gonna do to you,” he rasps, his lips traveling down your neck to your collarbone. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive bud while his other hand teases the other breast. Your heart races beneath his touch, your breath ragged as he works to drive you wild. It’s intoxicating, knowing he has power over you. Your free hand slides down to palm your sex through your pants. “Let me take care of you, Y/N.”

You let out a groan, grinding yourself on his hand in a desperate attempt to feel something. He starts to rub slow circles over your clothed sex, feeling the heat radiating from your core. “That's it, baby,” he encourages, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants and slipping inside to stroke your bare folds. “Don't hold back. Let me hear those sexy sounds you make when you're turned on.”

He pushes a finger inside your tight heat, groaning as you clench around him. Slowly, he starts to pump in and out, curling his digit to hit that special spot that makes you see stars. “So fucking tight,” he grunts, adding another finger and scissoring them to stretch you open. “Gonna fill you up so good, Y/N.”

“Fuck, fill me up,” you groan. Almost immediately, he strips you of your jeans and panties, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his desires. Grabbing your hips, he lifts you almost effortlessly, positioning you above his straining cock. Your entrance hovers mere inches away, teasing you.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. “Ready to feel every thick inch of me stretching you wide open?” Without waiting for a response, he lowers you onto his shaft, groaning as your velvety walls engulf him. Inch by delicious inch, he fills you completely, until your hips meet and he is buried to the hilt inside your tight heat. Slowly, he starts to pump in and out, curling his digit to hit that special spot that makes me see stars. 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, adding another finger and scissoring them to stretch you open. “Gonna fill you up so good, Y/N.”

“Fuck fill me up,” you groan. Almost immediately he strips you of your jeans and panties leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his desires. Grabbing your hips he lifts you almost effortlessly, positioning you above his straining cock. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. Without waiting for a response, he lowers you onto his shaft, groaning as your velvety walls engulf him. Inch by delicious inch, he fills you completely, until your hips meet and he is buried to the hilt inside your tight heat. 

“Fuuuuck,” you hiss through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to climax instantly.

“You feel incredible, baby. Like you were made just for me,” Josh groans.

As Josh's words echo in your ears, you feel his cock pulse inside you, the fullness making you gasp. His hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you in place as you both take a moment to catch your breath. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending electrified by the intensity of the moment. You can feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, matching your own. The connection between you is undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither of you can resist.

Slowly, he starts to move, lifting you up just enough before pulling you back down onto him. The friction is exquisite, a delicious stretch that has you biting your lip to keep from crying out too loudly. His thrusts are slow but deep, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body, building a tension in your core that begs for release.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder as you cling to him, letting him take control. He sets a rhythm, steady but intense, his breath hot against your ear as he groans with each thrust. “God, Y/N, you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, his voice strained with desire.

Your body responds instinctively, your hips meeting his thrusts with increasing urgency, the need for release growing unbearable. Every movement, every touch, every sound heightens the pleasure until it is almost too much to bear.

Josh’s hands roam your body, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other grips your ass, guiding you in time with his thrusts. You can feel the tension in him too, the way his muscles tense with each movement, his breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps.

You’re close, so close, and you can tell he is too. “Josh, I—” you gasp, unable to form a coherent thought as the pleasure builds to a fever pitch.

“Let go, baby,” he rasps, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “I’ve got you.”

That is all it takes. With one final thrust, the tension inside you snaps, and you cry out as the orgasm rips through you, your body trembling with the force of it. Josh follows moments later, his entire body tensing, muscles flexing as he erupts inside you. Thick ropes of cum pulse from his twitching cock, flooding your insides with his essence. Each spurt seems to go on forever, painting your walls with his release. Slowly, the intensity of your orgasms begins to ebb, leaving behind a warm, tingling sensation that spreads throughout your limbs. He cradles you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your quivering form as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“That was... incredible,” he chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Yeah. Wow.” He kisses you again, this time slow and gentle, as if savoring the moment.

As you finally pull apart, reality starts to creep back in. You suddenly feel self-conscious, standing there half-naked in the dressing room of one of your favorite musicians. But Josh doesn’t seem fazed at all. He just smiles at you, his eyes soft and warm, and for a moment, it feels like everything is perfect.

“Are you okay?” he asks, genuine concern etched across his face.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “I’m more than okay.”

“Good.” He grins, leaning in to give you another sweet kiss. The heat of the moment lingers, but the adrenaline slowly gives way to a soft warmth that envelops you both.

Josh reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I don’t usually bring fans back here, but there was something about you,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

You can’t help but smile, your heart racing all over again. “I’m glad you did.”

He takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s memorizing every detail. “So, what now? Do you have any plans?”

You shake your head, feeling giddy. “No, not really. Just came to see you guys perform.”

“Then how about we hang out for a bit? Just the two of us?” he suggests, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you reply, your heart fluttering.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Great. Let’s just take a minute to breathe, alright? You blew my mind, and I want to make sure we enjoy this.”

You nod, feeling a sense of bliss wash over you. As you sit together on the couch, the sound of the after-show excitement fades into the background. For the first time since you arrived, you feel completely at ease, reveling in the moment with him.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[jimmys-zeppelin]

hoping, waiting

arrow through me part four

may 16, 1972

10:30pm

It was unseasonably cold that May night. The wet sheen on the pavement from the rain that had fallen earlier made Jeanie’s brand new Biba boots squeak louder than they would have in drier weather.

She pulled her mini skirt down further over her bum, though it was already at the lowest it could go. Her mother had bought her a soft pink jumper that matched perfectly with the outfit. She wished she could go home to show her mother her nice outfit; even though her mother would definitely have something to say about “the length of that skirt!”

Jeanie's stockings pricked at her legs, making her calves break out in goosebumps when combined with the London cold. Nadine, a friend of a friend and a girl she had barely known, walked beside her in the street. They were on their way to the after-party following a popular rock act’s performance.

They hadn't gone to see the performance, rather Nadine had only been invited to the after-party. Jeanie couldn't figure out how the logistics of that worked in the slightest, but she was the only one in a long line of girls available to attend that night, so she didn’t really care.

And so she went. The drinks were free...what was the worst that could happen?

"Jeanie, come on," Nadine urged, several steps ahead of her.

“It’s not like we’re missing anything,” Jeanie complained, adjusting her foot inside her tall boot. “Concert’s over anyway.”

5:35AM

Jeanie woke stirringly to long black hair acting as a pillow for her sweaty cheek. She was back in her flat (good) and saw only the dim light of the bathroom lighting the place up. With an inward groan, Jeanie would have rather gotten a slightly more expensive electric bill than to leave the comfort of her bed and the stranger—not stranger, Jimmy—beside her.

The warmth radiating beside Jeanie was comforting. The alcohol in her system had just begun to settle, and, in her sleep-filled stupor, she couldn't help but be drawn to it like a magnet. Jimmy sighed contentedly, pulling her closer as if they'd known one another for years. Her cheek settled into his bare, sparsely-haired chest, the distant scent of sweat mixed with cigarettes and his cologne proved the most intoxicating sleep aid.

She settled back to sleep then, setting all worries aside until the morning.

10:45PM

Miraculously, Jeanie was already sipping her second gin and tonic for the evening. Her first had been halfway slurped before being knocked out of her hand by another partygoer—Jimmy, as she'd come to know him—and he got her another drink.

"You live in London?" Jimmy asked. His green eyes sparkled even in the dark club lighting.

"Yeah. Just moved out here from Chiswick," she said as she sipped through the dual straws as hard as she could.

"That's cool. I've just moved here myself—well, actually it's been about four years," he chuckled.

"How old are you?" Jeanie asked, noticing how young he looked.

"Twenty-six," Jimmy replied with a slight raise of his eyebrows and a sip of his beer. She could tell he was trying to impress with the number. Now she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. No matter how cute he was.

Jeanie figured after she'd enough to make herself go cross-eyed, she would head home. Once again, the free drinks were something to take advantage of.

"Did you go to the show before this?" she asked, the gin and tonic starting to hit her right in her empty stomach.

"Yeah," Jimmy chuckled, "I'm the guitarist."

"Oh," Jeanie replied. How mortifying, she thought. But she played it off. "What kind of music is it? My friend only invited me to the after party," she said, pointing over at Nadine, who was slung over the arm of a blond man with curly hair.

"It's alright. We play rock music. Some pretty heavy stuff. Blues and such."

"Anything I may have heard?"

"Probably not."

"You're kidding."

"I mean it, we haven't gotten much radio exposure outside of the AM stations and live performances.”

"I listen to plenty AM, thank you very much," Jeanie said curtly, "I have to go rescue my friend. Excuse me."

Jeanie left without another vote of confidence for Jimmy, her patience having been exceeded a little too quickly. She was glad she hadn't wasted any perfume on her look that night.

"Nadine, let's go. I'm not vibing."

"Oh, come on, Jean, have a smoke, chill out," Nadine replied, her eyes hazy and her own perfume having been overtaken by the stench of reefer.

"Yeah, your friend's right, chill out darlin'!" the blond exclaimed, pushing a joint into Jeanie's face, which she declined with a near comical grimace.

11:45PM

"What would you do if you didn't make music?" Jeanie asked, passing Jimmy the ever-shortening joint that the alleged bassist, John, had rolled for them. After the three long drags she'd taken from it combined with the alcohol in her system, the view from each of her eyes begun to cross. Had she moved her head too quickly, she'd need more than a few seconds to refocus.

One more strong drink and she'd be done for.

"Biological research," Jimmy said, slurred. His eyes had begun to slump shut themselves, yet he remained firm. A drink of questionable color sat by his side on the pavement while Jeanie's fourth (or fifth?) gin and tonic sat empty, the plastic cup ready to blow away in the chilly night air.

She hadn't remembered why they were sat outside. The sweat between the crease of her knees was cool to the touch. The cooling sweat at her hairline reminded her that she'd dragged Jimmy away to sit outside the pub to give her ears a moment to relax. The music inside the pub had been awfully loud to her drunken ears.

"What?" she asked, forgetting her question.

"Dunno," Jimmy shrugged, "It's a stupid sort of thing kids say. That was my thing," he blinked along, the smoke from their shared joint floating past his lips with each word he spoke. His lips were awfully pink for a man his age, she thought. And plump. She felt she was mere inches from his face, but knew she was about a foot away. Even then, she felt that she could almost see his beard growing back onto his cheeks.

"What did I ask?" Jeanie wondered, not having listened to Jimmy's response at all. Her eyes came back to reality, noticing she had been closer to the rear bumper of the car beside her than she was to Jimmy's face.

"If I didn't do music," he stopped, not wanting to exert his brain into saying the rest of the question. Jeanie nodded.

"Ah."

"What d'you do, hm?" Jimmy asked, passing her back the joint.

Jeanie took another delicious drag of the marijuana, eyes fluttering shut as the smoke filled her lungs. She parted her lips and exhaled delightedly. "I'm a receptionist. At an ophthalmologist."

"Do carrots really improve your vision?"

She shook her head, "Load of bollocks. The doctor told me himself." she sucked on the joint. Hard. When she exhaled, she coughed a bit harder than she had anticipated.

"Alright?" Jimmy asked, patting her back lightly.

Jeanie waved him off, "Fine, thanks." She peered down at her watch, taking much too long to focus her vision and noticed it wasn't yet midnight. The night was still young. And she was pissed to high heaven.

"Might have to go soon," she said, giving Jimmy his turn on the joint again. He held it between delicate fingers, letting the edge smolder in the windy night air instead of smoking it some more.

"'s still early," Jimmy tried, scooting his body closer to hers on the pavement. The street was still damp from the morning's rain.

"I know. We started too early," Jeanie slurred. "We should go back in....dance a bit."

"Sure," Jimmy said, standing from the pavement with little difficulty. He placed the joint between his lips and wiped off the backs of his slacks before extending soft, pale hands to Jeanie. She took him gracefully, taking her time to get back to her feet.

Jimmy took a quick drag of the joint, blowing it out as he put it back in Jeanie's mouth. "Done?" she asked. He cleared his throat with a nod.

"Don't wanna get too zoinked."

With a giggle, Jeanie acknowledged his words, "Zoinked is funny," she paused, "You're pretty."

"You're drunk. And high."

"You don't think I'm pretty, Jimmy?" Jeanie pouted.

"Prettier when you're sober," he said, taking Jeanie by her shoulders and guiding her back into the pub, their drinks laying abandoned by the street. "Maybe we should get you home."

"Hm, good idea," Jeanie agreed.

1:59AM

With her bed mere feet away, Jeanie began to strip as if no one was watching. Her clothes began to pile up where she stood: skirt first, shoes next (out of necessity), stockings, and lastly, her bright pink jumper.

Jimmy entered the room seconds later, surprised at how quickly Jeanie had managed her clothes off.

"Mind if I have a piss?" he asked.

Jeanie hummed in agreement, ignoring Jimmy as she pulled her comforter back, exposing her white sheets with blue peonies printed throughout, and diving headfirst onto her creaky mattress. Her pillows and sheets smelled familiar; like home. She smiled contentedly and stuffed her face into the pillow, not minding her makeup in the slightest.

2:06AM

Jimmy stepped lightly into Jeanie’s bedroom, ready to bid her a good night; a rather unusual occurrence after spending an entire night with a woman. She was already snoring when he knocked on the door frame.

“Jeanie…?”

Her heavily exhaled breath was his response.

“Jean…” Jimmy approached the bed. She lay solely in her bra and underwear. He did his best not to stare voraciously at her unconscious body, the curve of her waist, the dimpes in her back. She coughed lightly as she slept. “I’m on my way out…” he continued.

Jeanie stirred, looking over her shoulder at Jimmy. “Stay…I’m cold.”

“I—Jeanie, no, I couldn’t. I’ve got to—“

“Please,” her eyelids opened in mere slits, practically bloodshot with the weed she had smoked.

Jimmy looked over at the clock on her nightstand. He softly stroked Jeanie’s hair and sighed. He’d given way to a woman’s pleas once again. Though he kept his pants on—out of decency—he peeled off the sweat-riddled blouse he’d worn to the Led Zeppelin gig that evening. He wished Jeanie could have been at the show…then asked himself who the fuck would only invite Nadine to the after-party and not the actual show.

He settled into the bed, trying his best not to intrude in Jeanie’s sacred space. It wasn’t long before sleep caught up with him as well.

11:30AM

Jeanie picked at a thread on the sleeve of her pink jumper. “Here’s my number,” she said, handing Jimmy a slip of paper. “Now, you better call me. Or else I’ll have to tell people I fumbled the Led Zeppelin guy.”

Jimmy laughed, scratched at his brow, and pocketed the slip of paper. “I’ll call once I get back home. Today. You’ve got my word. And I’d appreciate if you called me by my full name.”

“And that is…?”

“Jimmy Page.”

“Good name,” Jeanie nodded.

“How’s yours, then?”

“Jeanine Eldridge. It’s no better than Page.”

“Maybe one day I’ll pass it on…” Jimmy winked.

Jeanie blushed. “Go home, Jimmy Page.”

“Leaving, Jeanine Eldridge….” he started away from the door. “Thanks for tea, by the way.”

“Sure…call me,” she said.

“I will” Jimmy answered. He turned for one last look at her. It was different, and filled Jeanie with the same butterflies she had gotten when he kissed her just before she’d poured him tea earlier that morning. She wasn’t one to put out, but something about Jimmy made her want to just leave herself open to his every beck and call. Apart from Jimmy being a world-famous rock star, Jeanie knew this relationship would be different from any other she’d experienced in her life.

---

masterlist !!!

taglist: @knotnatural @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @rosyfingereddawnn @reincarnated70sbaby @starstofillmydream @kyunisixx @blackberryblossom @jimmypages @foreverandadaydarling @lzep @verrbena-in-the-air @groovyysav @mystify1222 @maziecrazycloud if you want to be added to the list let me know!

[thunderousone]

Chapter 13

Summary: 🔥 🔥 🔥

TW: depression, suicide, profanity, graphic depictions of sex, pain kink, childhood trauma, parental trauma, chronic pain

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Status: Finished work! Chapter 13/23.5

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 🤍

masterlist | read it first on ao3

Eirene found herself in Vír's arms the following morning. No empty side of the bed. Eirene was still naked, the sticky sweet sensation of his pleasure and her own still between her thighs. The first this Eirene noticed was the absence of something... Pain. She felt a small vibration of lightning in her hands, but no painful ache. No constant reminder of the terrible power in her. She sat up and squeeze her muscles, looking to find a trigger, something there that would kick start that pain she'd grown accustomed to. 

But found nothing.  

Vír was laying on his stomach, his legs tangled up in the soft sheets, his back and shoulders exposed. She could see the tattoo on his back of the storm cloud, along with flecks of raw, red skin. Places where her sparks hit him last night. Clear lines down his back of red where her hands and nails slid down. She reached in to touch his back softly, no electricity flowing through her palms as she did so.  

He rolled over onto his back and put a hand behind his head to prop himself up. He looked completely different. Nothing had changed physically about him of course. But his expression had changed. No longer cold and unfeeling, but his jaw clenched as he tried to suppress a smile. His eyes looking at Eirene as if he were seeing her for the first time, and allowing himself to enjoy the view. He surveyed her arms and dragged a finger along the currents marked there as her eyes closed to his touch. The magnets between the two of them pulling together in synch. His gaze followed his hand as it slid up and around her arm, across her shoulders and chest, and then slowly let his fingers fall down to her nipples.  

Eirene's head fell back at his fingers on her, her breasts beginning to feel heavy and swollen with need for him again.  

Through no small effort he removed his hand from her perfect breast and sat up with her, both of them propped against the wooden headboard. It felt as if they were in a different world for a moment, each gaze meeting with a new emotion. Joy, lust, need, comfort, love. Vír reached a hand out and touched her cheek.  

A single, loud knock fell on the door. Eirene so startled that the spark that went through her caused Vír to pull his hand back in pain. He laughed, a jarring yet beautiful sound and cursed as he massaged here she stung him. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips and swaggered toward the door. He walked as if he were drunk on emotions, utterly lust filled. He grabbed a plush gray robe that was hanging off of the mirror and threw it on.  

Eirene instinctively got up and went to his bathroom to freshen up and make herself scarce at whatever company was awaiting on the other side of the door.  

The water felt cool on her cheeks and as she washed her face she felt no fear that the water of a bath would do any harm to her, however there was no tub in Vír's bathroom. Only the same large glass walled area with no shower head to be seen. She grabbed a spare robe from the bathroom and once she heard the door close loudly, reentered the bedroom.  

"What's going on?" Eirene asked. "Is it Lyranth? What happened?" Suddenly the real world began to fade into view. Had she been right? Was their mutual release of emotions and magic good god Lyranth? 

"Lyranth is fine, great even. We can go check on them in a moment. That was Lyire. I have... company waiting for me in the study,"  he prowled toward Eirene like an animal stalking it's prey. He pulled on the front of her robe and pulled him into her. Through the robe she could feel his cock twitch on her. She leaned in and kissed him deeply.  

"Before we get carried away, I need to go back to my room and bathe. I smell... well, like sweat. And sex," she laughed.  

"You smell like me," he growled into her mouth as he kissed again. He pulled back in confusion, "Wait, why do you have to go to your room for that?" 

"You don't have a tub, and it looks like you don't have a proper shower. And it sounds like you have someone waiting for you," she added.  

"Well they aren't welcome so I would rather enjoy making them wait," He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, walking her toward the bathroom. Eirene pulled the tie on her robe open as they went. Vír closed the door behind them and she spun to see him, her magic aching just to see his face with life painted across it again.  

"You are beautiful," His greedy gaze eating every inch of her up.  

"You're smiling," she teased. She pulled the front of his robe open and he pushed hers off of her shoulders and onto the cold marble floor. "Still the question remains, why don't you have a bath tub?"  

He gritted his teeth together and snarled as he shrugged off his own robe and kissed her deeply, pushing her into the cold glass door of his pseudo-shower. He pulled open the door next to her and dragged her in with him. 

Slowly, rain began to fall from some clouds above them. Eirene laughed at loud out of surprise. The rain was hot on her skin and as he kissed her deeper the water pressure increased.  

His gray hair fell wet around him and Eirene pulled herself away to look at him. This is what he was supposed to look like. Free from the thunder and storms and shining in the rain.  

The lightning under her skin felt the pull of his magic and she was on him again feeling his long, stiff cock grinding into her. Her kisses across his neck got more and more desperate, each moan a plea. He pushed her against the wall and lifted her up with ease. With one swift pump he was inside her again and her head crashed back against the glass. The sparks that flew were softer than last nights and sit noticed that   even in the water they didn't hurt Eirene, they never hurt her. 

As she dug her nails into Vír's back she saw the sparks fly and ripple in the water, his back arching back, delighting in the pain. He groaned and pulled on her hair to bring her mouth back to his. He flipped her with ease around, her breasts pushed against the glass as he entered her again from behind. Her nipples crashed against the glass as he put his weight behind each perfect thrust. They could see what they were doing through the clear glass to the large mirror above the sink. He left one hand on her waist and placed the other on the wet glass beside her. She turned her head to the side to see him as he pushed into her again and again.  

Eirene struggled with everything in her not to set the bathroom ablaze in lightning as he made her come again and again. She turned her head back to the mirror and caught his gaze there as he thrust into her. She didn’t take her eyes off of him as his head ripped back as he came, emptying himself in her fully.  She spun around to look at him and he put his other hand on the glass, surrounding her in his muscular marble arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and latched into his hair. He pulled her in close under the hot rain water that hit them with strong pressure. 

"I have something to tell you," he remained close to her, not daring break from her grip. He wrapped his arms around her waist tightly. "Try not to fry us both," Vír smiled wickedly.  

"Lyire told me you could see the stars in Lyranth last night. That the clouds rolled away night." 

[x-mencomics]

The Uncanny X-Men #146 - Murderworld!

Storm is a statue. The X-Men have failed. Doom and Arcade are working together. 

But then - 

Outside. Doom could’ve sworn the forecast was for clear weather. Where did this sudden freezing, windy storm come from?

Doom asks the statuesque Storm for mulled wine, and she obeys as though she is his servant. Arcade and Doom discuss defeating the X-Men with Arcade saying he expected more from them. There’s some tension between the two of them as Doom threatens Arcade and Arcade pokes at Doom asking him how many times he’s defeated the Fantastic Four. Speaking of - what have you done with the X-Men, Arcade asks Doom.

Doom shows Arcade how each X-Man is being held in a different trap: Nightcrawler is in a box he can’t teleport out of, Colossus is clinging to a rock surrounded by a whirlpool, Wolverine is in an anti-gravity chamber with black and white checkered walls, and Angel is locked in a giant birdcage. 

Arcade asks how Doom has turned Storm into his servant. Doom shows Arcade that the servant Storm is actually a robot, while the real Storm has been turned into a chrome statue. Inside the chrome, Storm is reliving past trauma of being buried alive, something that happened to her as a child - confinement is Storm’s greatest fear. Her subconscious is creating the terrible storm outside. 

Meanwhile, Havok, Polaris, Iceman, and Banshee search for Arcade’s secret base starting at the amusement park the X-Men were released into after their last encounter with Arcade (see issues 123 and 124). They locate an underground base and Polaris uses her powers to shut down all the electrical systems inside it. 

But it seems some things still function because a hologram of Miss Locke appears and she welcomes them to Murderworld. Trap doors open up beneath them and each one of this second group of X-Men is stuck in their own trap too: Havok is in a space battle, Polaris is on a carousel that spins extremely fast, Iceman is stuck on thin ice with acid underneath it, and Banshee is in a Wild West shootout with Moira tied to a railroad track.

Havok is the first to escape his trap; then Polaris is able to destroy the carousel. But Polaris falls through yet another hole in the floor and ends up with Iceman, who catches her before she hits the thin ice. Then, Iceman freezes the walls around him and is able to break through them. Iceman and Polaris find Banshee and save him and Moira before the train hits them. Inside the train are Candy and Amanda, and they’re safe now too. Progress!

Just kidding. Turns out it’s not the REAL Moira, Candy, or Amanda. They’re robots. And they all explode! Luckily, Polaris is able to create a magnetic field around the X-Men before the explosions hurt anyone. Meanwhile, Havok finds Miss Locke in the control room and shuts Murderworld down. 

The X-Men rush back to the hovercraft they arrived in and discover a huge storm outside. 

Back in Doom’s base, the chrome statue of Storm begins to glow. And Nightcrawler has disappeared from the box!

[goblinontour]

Mister Midnight

how could you say no?

series masterlist

warnings: soft!dom!alex (very soft), smut, piv, oral (m receiving), anal fingering (f receiving), actual anal (tiny bit), some fluff here and there, a bit of tension

word count: 8k

Australia, 2019

To say you and Alex kept in touch after that night in Dublin would be putting it too lightly. The truth was far more complex, a web of late-night texts and secret meetups that spanned nearly a year now. What started as what you’d expected to be a one-off encounter had transformed into something you couldn’t quite define. Each time he was close, he’d reach out, and you’d find yourself tangled up in him again. Physically. Emotionally. And in ways you didn’t want to fully admit.

You weren’t just some passing fling. At least, it didn't feel that way, not with the way he looked at you in those rare quiet moments when the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you behind tangled up in the sheets. 

In the beginning, he’d invite you to shows, bringing you along to places where the energy of the crowd seemed to echo whatever was happening between you two. You’d stand in the wings, watching him perform with that same raw magnetism that had drawn you to him in the first place.

But then things eventually changed. He got a new girlfriend. The invitations to shows stopped, and you felt the sting of being relegated to the shadows. Yet, that didn’t end whatever this was between you. It didn’t stop the late-night calls, the stolen moments in darkened hotel rooms, the electric thrill that surged every time your eyes met. If anything, the secrecy only made it more intense.

You never talked about what this all meant. There was an unspoken agreement between you. No expectations, no demands. And yet, there was an undeniable connection, something neither of you could easily dismiss. It was as if you were both addicted to it all, to the way he made you feel alive in ways that were both exhilarating and terrifying.

Every time he left, you told yourself it would be the last, that you’d break free from the cycle. But then he’d call, his voice smooth and inviting, and you’d find yourself falling back into him, unable to resist the pull. It was a delicate balance between wanting more and knowing you could never really have it.

And so it went, an ongoing affair that was as thrilling as it was torturous. You were trapped in a liminal space, somewhere between desire and despair, caught up in the allure of something you knew could never truly be. Yet, neither of you could bring yourself to let go.

It was pretty late now, and the last thing you expected was a call from Alex, but of course, he called. He always did. This time, though, his voice carried something different. Urgency, maybe even desperation.

“Come here. Come to Australia with us…with me.”

You blinked, half-convinced you hadn’t heard him correctly. “Australia? Alex, that’s crazy. I can’t just-”

“Please.” he cut in, his voice soft but insistent.

You hesitated, trying to find the words to reason with him, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“When?” you asked, your voice betraying the confusion and temptation warring inside you.

“Tonight. Tomorrow, actually. We have the last show in New Zealand tonight, and then we’re flying over there.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re insane if you think I can just go to fucking Australia overnight.”

He was silent for a moment, and then, “I’ll take care of that, you don’t have to worry. I’m bored on my own, please.”

His words hit you hard, and you felt something inside you weaken. “You’re not on your own, Alex, please…”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be about to do what I’m doing right now with someone else in the room.” he replied, and you heard it. The faint sound of a zipper, the slight hitch in his breath.

Your heart skipped a beat. “You’re going to bring me there and not your girlfriend?” you challenged, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “What time is it over there, anyway?”

“Late, 3 I think…4…I don’t know.” he said, his voice growing more breathy, more urgent. “And no girlfriend.” he added, almost as an afterthought, but you knew it meant everything.

You sat there, phone pressed to your ear, trying to process the absurdity of it all. He was across the world, doing God knows what on the other end of the line, and yet, here he was, asking you to drop everything and just join him. 

“Alex…” you started, unsure of where you were even going with this. 

“Please…” he whispered, and you could hear the raw need in his voice, the same need that always seemed to pull you back to him, no matter how much you tried to resist. 

In that moment, you knew you were going to say yes, even before the word formed on your lips.

“When did it happen? The breakup, I mean.” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity from slipping into your voice.

“Does it matter?” Alex responded, his voice slightly strained, followed by a quiet grunt that sent a shiver down your spine. “Before we left for this leg of the tour.”

You realised he hadn’t mentioned it, not even once. “Why?” you asked, needing to understand.

“I don’t really wanna think about that when I’m jerking off.” he said, blunt as ever, his breath hitching again. Alex’s words hung in the air for a moment before he muttered a soft, “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” you replied, a hint of regret in your voice for bringing it up. But before you could continue, he cut you off.

“It’s fine.” he said, his tone steady, though his breathing was anything but. There was a pause where neither of you spoke, only the sounds of your separate rooms filling the silence, and the quiet, rhythmic movement of his hand on himself, slow. Too slow to get him anywhere, but deliberately so. 

“Are you in bed?” he asked, his voice lower now.

“Yeah.” you replied, your own voice softer.

“You wanna do it with me?” he asked, but it was more of a request than a question, one he knew you’d fulfil.

“Yeah…” you said again, the word coming out almost as a whisper, sealing the unspoken agreement between you.

You switched your phone to your left hand, your right one slipping under the covers, fingers ghosting over the warm skin of your inner thighs before moving inside your panties. The anticipation made your breath hitch, but you kept your movements light, teasing.

“I can’t hear ya.” Alex’s voice was low and gravelly, the impatience palpable.

“I can’t hear you either.” you countered, half-teasing, half-challenging him.

He answered with a moan. Exaggerated, loud, and deliberately over-the-top, like something out of a porno. “Was that better?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Much.” The sound wasn’t far off from how he actually moaned when he was fucking you. Loud, raw, and uninhibited. The memory sent a jolt through you, and your fingers slid deeper, the moan that escaped your lips soft but clear enough for him to hear.

“Are you fucking yourself?” His voice was rough, the desire in it unmistakable.

“Yes.” you breathed, your fingers finding a rhythm that made your body hum with pleasure.

“With your fingers?”

“Yeah.” you whispered, pushing them deeper, biting your lip to stifle a louder moan. You could almost picture him on the other end, hand working himself over, the same urgency driving you both.

“God, I need to fuck something so bad.” he muttered, and you could hear the quickening pace of his breath, the sound of his fist moving faster along his length.

“So you’re flying me across the world to fuck ‘something’?” you teased, the words coming out breathier than you intended, but the playful edge was still there.

“Fuck- no. I just miss you.” he admitted, his voice strained, and the honesty in his words sent a flutter through your chest, an unexpected warmth spreading through you.

“Fuck…” he groaned, louder this time, the sound of his breath coming faster, heavier through the speaker. You could hear the desperation, the need, and it mirrored your own, pulling you deeper into the moment with him. The room around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the sound of his voice. 

“Did you finish?” you asked, your voice a little unsteady.

“Yeah…” he replied, still catching his breath.

“Was it good?” 

“Mhm,” he breathed, “Made a mess though. Wish I could’ve done it inside you…instead of it getting all over my chest.”

You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips, and he picked up on it immediately.

“You want that too?” His voice was low, teasing, full of promise.

You murmured a response, barely able to form words as your fingers worked more urgently on your clit, the pressure building as you pressed harder, chasing that feeling, desperate for release.

“So come here then, yeah? And I’ll fuck you good…fill you up, hm?”

The image his words painted in your mind pushed you closer to the edge. Your thighs began to shake, your body tensing as you fought to keep your fingers steady, trying not to lose the rhythm you’d found, not wanting to let it end too soon.

The thought of him, his hands gripping your hips, his body pressed against yours as he filled you, was enough to send you spiralling. Your breath caught in your throat, and you could barely manage to keep the pressure on yourself, your fingers trembling as the sensation built to a peak. You were so close, the tension coiling tight in your belly, waiting to snap.

“Come on, love.” Alex’s voice urged through the phone, breathless and still full of need. “I want you to come for me, yeah? Let me hear you.”

His words sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered, thighs squeezing together as you finally let go, moaning into the phone as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent on the bed. 

On the other end, you could hear Alex’s breathing, heavy and satisfied, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “That’s my girl.”

Of course, you went. You dropped everything and flew across the world to see him. The show was great, as always. And he was great. The moment he walked off stage, he made a beeline for you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place, but the urgency in his steps told you everything you needed to know. Without a word, he pulled you close, and before you could even process it, he was whisking you away, his grip on you almost possessive.

In the lobby, his arm was slung around your shoulder, his face nuzzling into your neck. In the elevator, his fingers traced patterns on your waist, his lips brushing against your ear. By the time you reached the hallway leading to the room, you could feel the heat radiating off him, his need palpable. He got you your own room, but he pulled you into his instead. 

He wouldn’t stop clinging to you, like he needed the contact to convince himself you were really there. His hands roamed over your back, his breath hot against your skin as he rubbed his face into your clothes, taking in your scent as if it was something he had been craving.

He was drunk, not completely out of control, but enough that you knew he’d use it as an excuse later, if needed. 

“Alex?” you called out, trying to guide him toward the bed, but he wouldn’t move, his back hitting the wall as he pulled you even closer, his lips finding your collarbone, his spiky hair brushing against your chin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’ve missed you.” he whispered. The words were simple, but the way he said them made something inside you twist. His lips traced a path down your neck, and then he murmured against your skin, “You smell so good…I love ya.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Did you hear that right? The air seemed to thicken around you, your heart pounding as the implications of what he’d said sank in. Maybe you misheard, or maybe it was just the alcohol talking. You didn’t say anything, couldn’t find the words even if you tried. After a moment, he seemed to brush over it too, his focus shifting back to kissing your neck, hands gripping you tighter. 

But the words hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. Fuck. It couldn’t have been just a slip of the tongue, but neither of you were ready to face what it meant. Not yet.

His lips stilled against your skin, and in the next breath, he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you closer than he ever had before. It wasn’t the kind of closeness you expected. It was tender, soft, and far too intimate. It felt like more than just a physical connection, something deeper, and you knew right then that this moment would haunt your thoughts. You thought he had brought you here just to fuck, like always, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was different. The truth was, it had never been just fucking, had it? 

You threaded your fingers through his short hair, just long enough to grip, and gently tugged him back, forcing a small space between you. “Honestly, Alex, all I wanna do is get naked in front of you.” you said, your voice carrying a hint of mischief, though your heart was pounding with something more.

He looked up at you. His lips were parted slightly, his bottom lip so soft and inviting that it took all your self-control not to lean in and nip at it. “Yeah, fuck, I won’t say no to that.” he replied, his voice hoarse. 

For a moment, he seemed lost in the moment, but then he shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts, and took a step back toward the bed. He began to undress, his movements unhurried but still quick, peeling off his clothes piece by piece until he was left in nothing but his skin, his body illuminated by the dim light of the room. As he undressed, you fumbled with the ties on your heels, your fingers suddenly feeling clumsy and uncoordinated.

By the time you managed to kick off your shoes, he was already in bed, his body relaxed but his eyes keen, tracking every movement you made. He had propped himself up against the pillows, hands resting behind his head, but as you began to undress, he shifted, letting his leg that had been propped up fall beside the other on the mattress. The movement made his hard cock bounce slightly, drawing your attention, just as he intended.

He didn’t look away from you as he wrapped his hand around himself, stroking slowly, teasingly, in time with your little strip tease. His gaze was heavy with sexual need, but there was something more there. As your bra slipped off, exposing your breasts, you saw him drag his thumb across the tip of his cock, his mouth falling open as if the sight of your hard nipples was too much for him to bear.

He moaned softly, the sound almost guttural, and his eyes darkened. The sight of him touching himself, getting off to just the sight of you, made heat pool low in your belly. You could see the tension in his muscles, the way his body strained with each slow stroke, and you knew he was holding back, drawing out the moment just to savour the sight of you.

As you stripped off the last of your clothes, you felt his eyes on you, and it sent a thrill through your body. You knew this wasn’t just about the sex, even if that’s what you both pretended it was. 

You walked over to him, your steps slow, and he let his hand fall to the side, welcoming you with an eager grip on your hip as you climbed onto his lap. His touch was firm yet tender, guiding you down onto him. When you leaned in to kiss him, it was almost surprising that it was the first time your lips had met since you arrived. This time, there was no hesitation, no moment of doubt. His lips found yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender, a mix of passion and something that felt dangerously close to love.

For a brief moment, it threatened to become too intimate, too much, but Alex seemed to sense it. Before the moment could overwhelm either of you, he flipped you over with a playful grin, pressing you into the mattress. His eyes never left yours as he pushed inside you, the sudden stretch making you gasp in pleasure.

Without hesitation, he pressed your thighs back, the angle almost uncomfortable as it stretched the muscles, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the pleasure of feeling him fill you so completely. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, pushing them far enough back that your body arched toward him, the burn in your muscles only adding to the intensity of the moment.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and low as he found a rhythm that was quick but controlled, his hips snapping against yours with just enough force to drive you wild, but not so fast that he lost the connection between you. He wanted to see you, to watch every expression that crossed your face as he moved inside you.

Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through you, the sensation of him stretching you both inside and out leaving you breathless. He was big, swollen, and every inch of him seemed to press against the most sensitive parts of you, making your body tighten around him, pulling him deeper with every movement.

You couldn’t help the way your body responded, hips tilting up to meet his, matching his rhythm as you sought more, wanting to feel him even closer, even deeper. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, made your heart pound, the intensity of his stare almost too much. His hands gripped your thighs harder, his fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks that would surely remind you of this night long after it was over.

He noticed your legs trembling under his grip and let them drop to the sides, releasing the tension in your muscles. His hands moved to your back, pulling you close for a kiss, deep and consuming. As your lips met, he slipped out of you momentarily, shifting to the side and lying down before sitting up slightly, inviting you to straddle him again. You took the hint, and wasted no time, climbing onto his lap and letting him guide you down onto his hard length.

As your hips met his, the stretch was overwhelming, the sensation of him filling you so completely. “Oh fuck, you're so big.” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hand gripped his shoulder for support.

“You knew that.” he replied, his tone teasing but laced with a rough edge. “Fits like a glove inside you. You like my big cock filling you, huh?” His words sent a shiver down your spine, making you keenly aware of just how deeply he was buried inside you.

You were filled to the brim, every inch of him pressing into you, so deep that you could feel the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your sensitive skin. The sensation was almost too much, but you couldn’t get enough of it. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you as he moved you back and forth, the friction getting rougher and rougher. Each time he pulled you down onto him, he hit a spot so deep inside you that it made your breath hitch.

He held you there, buried deep inside, and rocked his hips slowly, savoring the tight, wet heat of you wrapped around him. The rough hair at his base kept rubbing and tickling, front and back, with each movement, heightening the sensation until it felt like you were about to unravel.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” he groaned. He started moving you faster, his hands gripping your hips as he guided you up and down his length. The faster rhythm made you gasp, the pleasure building quickly as he watched you through hooded eyes, clearly relishing the sight of you on top of him, taking him so completely.

Your thighs trembled as you rode him, the fullness almost too much but too good to stop. He thrust up into you with each bounce, meeting your movements, driving himself deeper. His cock filled every inch of you, stretching you out until it was all you could feel, your senses overwhelmed by the way he touched every part of you. 

With every thrust, you felt yourself getting closer, your body tensing as the pleasure built to an unbearable level. His hands slid up your back, pulling you down for a heated kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he took you harder, deeper. The combination of his mouth on yours and his cock buried so deeply inside made you whimper against his lips, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you rode him harder, desperate. 

His hands roamed your body, the desperation in his own touch growing. One hand slid lower, gripping your ass with a harsh, possessive hold. You felt him pause, and for a moment, his hand disappeared. You heard him spit on his fingers, an obscene sound coming from it. His fingers returned, tracing the tight ring of muscle at your other entrance. He circled it, teasing, before slowly pressing a finger inside. 

At the same time, his mouth found your nipple, his lips closing around the sensitive peak. He couldn’t resist the temptation of your tits bouncing in his face, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The dual sensation of his finger stretching you and his mouth working over your breast was overwhelming. His cock continued to fuck into you, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust. 

“One more?” he asked, his voice rough as he teased the entrance with a second finger. You nodded, unable to find the words, and he pushed in. The pressure built, the stretch making you feel impossibly full. The added tightness made him slip out for a moment, and he groaned, his head falling back as he struggled to push back inside. 

“It’s so tight.” he murmured with a slight smirk, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. But then he thrust back in, and your gaze faltered. You bent down, your teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped you from the sensation of being so thoroughly filled. His fingers acted like a hook inside you, pulling you open as his cock plunged deeper, faster, rougher. The rhythm was relentless, the building pressure making you tremble.

“I can feel my cock- fuck-“ he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Feel it on my fingers…every time I push back inside you.”

Your body responded on instinct, tightening around him, the pleasure mounting with each thrust. The rough friction of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the way his fingers stretched you open, and the thick length of him inside you, filling you completely, all combined to push you closer to the brink.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pounded into you, each movement driving you closer and closer to release. His fingers curled inside you, pressing. The feeling of him inside you, in both places, was overwhelming, making it impossible to hold back any longer.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. You could feel the orgasm approaching, your entire body tensing. 

“You feel so fucking good.” he murmured against your lips, his voice strained with need. “So perfect, so tight around me.”

The praise sent you over the edge, your body clenching around him as you came, your release making you shudder against him. His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself. 

He groaned as he felt you tighten around him, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release, driving into you with a force that made you cry out. You began to squirm, the intensity of everything becoming overwhelming. It was too much, too fast, and your body was screaming for a moment to breathe. He noticed, even through the haze of his own need, and didn’t push you any further. 

But the urgency in him was undeniable, an almost primal need that radiated from his every move. He needed to come, desperately, so fucking bad that you could feel it in the way his hands gripped you, not entirely gentle, not entirely rough, but somewhere in between. He shifted you to the side with a mixture of impatience and raw desire, the movement careless in its haste.

Before you could even process the change, your head was on his cock. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, lost in the sensation, while his hands pressed you down, guiding you with an insistence that made it clear just how close he was. His cock throbbed in your mouth, the taste of him invading your senses, and a sudden rush of need washed over you. You’d missed this, missed him, the way he filled you up in every way.

“Can I come in your ass?” he asked, his voice strained, each word dragged out with the effort of holding back. He was so close that he had to pull you off, the tip of his cock twitching as he fought not to release then and there. You nodded, breathless, and he wasted no time, flipping you onto your stomach with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation. 

He loomed over you, the weight of his body a constant presence as he pushed your head into the sheets, his other hand guiding his cock to your entrance.

The push was slow as he worked his way inside. Your hole clenched around him, tight and unyielding, and the size of him made you feel almost numb, every nerve ending on high alert. He let out a low groan as he sank deeper, his control barely holding on by a thread. The heat of him, the way he filled you, was almost too much to bear, and yet it wasn’t enough. His need demanded more.

And then, as soon as the head slipped inside fully, he lost it. He came with a shudder that racked his whole body, the hot, wet flood of him spurting inside you, filling you up until you thought you might burst from the sensation. His cock throbbed, a steady, powerful rhythm that you could feel deep inside. Your hole clenched around him, matching his pulse, holding him in as he spilled every last drop. 

The room was filled with the heavy scent of sex, the air thick with the intensity of what just happened. His hand slowly loosened its grip on the back of your neck, fingers tracing gently over your skin as if in silent apology for the roughness before. You felt the tension begin to melt away, your body still buzzing with the remnants of pleasure, even as the soreness started to creep in.

“Fuck.” he whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction as he collapsed on top of you. The weight of his body pressed you deeper into the mattress, his cock slipping just a little further inside as he went limp. His breath was warm against your skin, his heartbeat a steady thrum against your back as he lay there. 

He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, his cock still buried inside you, the last remnants of his orgasm seeping out and making you shudder with oversensitivity.

He finally pushed himself up, gentle as he pulled out of you slowly, his cock slipping from you with a wet sound. The movement made you gasp, your body still tingling, still recovering from the intense sensations. He left you feeling emptier, the warmth of his release lingering inside you.

Without a word, he shifted lower, his weight pressing down on the backs of your calves as he settled behind you. You felt his hands on you again, soft as he spread your cheeks apart. The touch was tender, yet the intent behind it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. He pulled you open carefully, and with each inch that he spread you, your hole responded, opening wider in the aftermath of him.

He sat there, transfixed, watching the way his release was slipping out of you, a slow, deliberate trickle that pooled between your thighs. His breath caught, and you heard him whisper, “My god…this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice was thick with awe, his words barely more than a breath as he stared at the sight before him.

“You’re so good.” he murmured, his voice reverent, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His hands trembled slightly as he held you open, not wanting to miss a single moment of the way his cum was seeping out of you, the evidence of his need marking you in the most intimate way. His gaze was locked on you, his focus so intense it felt as though he was worshiping you, consumed by the sight of you laid bare before him.

Time seemed to stretch, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft, appreciative noises he made as he continued to watch. He didn’t move, didn’t rush, just sat there taking in every detail, savouring the aftermath of what you’d just shared. It was as if he was committing the image to memory, branding it into his mind. 

He turned you around to face him, his expression softening as he looked down at you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, concern lacing his tone. 

You nodded, too spent to form words, your body sinking deeper into the bed as he shifted beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, his lips brushing against the back of your neck in a tender kiss. The contrast between the raw passion from moments before and the gentle affection now was almost overwhelming.

“Good.” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “Just stay here with me.”

He held you like that for a long while, his breathing gradually evening out, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. The world outside felt distant and unimportant, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough.” he murmured after a while, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

You turned in his arms, facing him, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m okay.” you assured him, your voice soft but firm. “I wanted it. I wanted you.”

His eyes searched yours, as if looking for any sign of doubt, but all he found was the truth in your words. He exhaled slowly, his lips curving into a small, relieved smile. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss, the kind that made you forget about everything else.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Do you want to go to your room and sleep, or…stay with me?” His voice was tentative, like he was unsure how you’d respond. He added quickly, “I haven’t been able to sleep much lately, so I’ll probably be up pretty late, but…” He hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to yours. “But I’d like it if you stayed.”

You smiled at him, your decision made. “I’ll stay.” you said softly. “But I think I need to shower first.”

“Yeah, sure.” he replied, loosening his grip on you and letting you slip out of his arms. You moved quickly, the need to wash off the stickiness and sweat driving you to make it brief. The water was hot, soothing the tension from your muscles as you scrubbed your skin clean. You didn’t linger, eager to get back to him.

When you returned to the room, he was still lying in bed, completely naked. A makeshift ashtray sat beside him on the nightstand, and a lit cigarette was held loosely between his fingers. The dim light of the room cast shadows over his form, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the relaxed curve of his body.

You walked over to the bed, the cool air brushing against your damp skin. He glanced up as you approached, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He took a slow drag from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke as he watched you. The scent of it filled the room, mingling with the lingering heat from your shower.

“Feel better?” he asked, his voice low, almost a rumble in the quiet room.

“Yeah.” you nodded, climbing back into bed beside him. He stubbed out the cigarette, setting the ashtray aside before turning to you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until your bodies were pressed together, skin to skin. The warmth of him seeped into you. 

He didn’t say anything for a while, just held you there in the dim light, his hand gently stroking your back. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

“I’m glad you came.” he murmured eventually, his voice barely more than a whisper against your hair. His lips brushed your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, and you felt his grip tighten slightly. 

“I’m glad too.” you whispered back, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. You closed your eyes, the exhaustion from the night finally catching up to you as you let yourself relax fully in his embrace. 

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he was lying more comfortably, his body still pressed close to yours. His fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, soothing in their gentle rhythm.

You traced the scar on his eye with your fingertip, a mark you’d noticed long ago but never questioned. The roughness of the skin there contrasted with the smoothness of his face. Leaning in, you kissed the spot, and he exhaled a deep, contented sigh, his breath hitching slightly as he whispered, “How do you always know where I need to be touched?”

You shrugged, brushing it off with a gentle smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing the messy spikes. His gaze was intense, searching yours, and just as you thought you might have to look away, he spoke softly. “I think I really love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat as the gravity of his confession settled in. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come right away. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his once more. He kissed you back, slowly. 

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, and you both stayed like that for a while, the silence speaking volumes. 

He held you close, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, and you let yourself sink deeper into the comfort of his arms. You listened to the sound of his breathing, steady and calming, and felt the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Do you think you can sleep?” you asked after a while, your voice soft, almost tentative. You knew how his mind worked, how the late nights and the endless thoughts could keep him awake.

He was quiet for a moment, considering your question. His fingers continued to trace light patterns on your back, the motion rhythmic and soothing. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “But I’ll try.”

You nodded against him, your hand resting on his chest. “I’ll be right here.” you murmured. 

He pulled you closer, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, holding you gently against him. “That helps.” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead.

The exhaustion from the night was catching up to you, and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute. But you didn’t want to sleep, not yet. You wanted to elongate this moment, to hold onto the feeling of being so close to him.

His hand moved from your back to your arm, sliding down to intertwine your fingers with his. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. It was such a tender, intimate gesture that it made your heart ache in a way that was both beautiful and painful.

“You’re good to me, you know that?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “I care about you.” you replied, your voice just as quiet. The words felt inadequate to express everything you felt.

“I care about you too.” he said. “Stay with me.” he whispered. 

“I will.” you promised, your voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His arms tightened around you, and you could feel the tension slowly ebbing away from his body as he let out a long, slow breath. You nestled closer to him, your head resting on his chest, and listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was a comforting sound, one that gradually lulled you into a state of calm.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there like that, just holding each other, but eventually, you felt him start to relax. His breathing evened out, and you could tell he was finally starting to drift off.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to follow him into sleep. The last thing you felt before you completely surrendered to the darkness was the gentle pressure of his lips against your hair, and the warmth of his arms around you, holding you close.

The next morning, you awoke to find him pulling away from you. He moved silently to the bathroom, not looking back. The sound of running water broke the silence, and when he returned, he was wearing shorts, the casualness of it striking a strange contrast to the intimacy of the night before. You pulled the covers around yourself, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“I- last night…can we forget about that?” he asked, voice low, hesitant, like he was testing the waters.

“About what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tension in the air was almost suffocating.

“Right…yeah.” He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, his weight making the mattress dip. His head hung low, eyes on the floor. Then, with a sigh, he stood up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes, heading to the window. He lit one, the smell of smoke quickly filling the room, mingling with the remnants of last night. Turning back to you, he hesitated, his expression unreadable. “You’re still naked.” he said, his voice free of the playfulness it usually carried.

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, whether it was an observation or a statement laced with regret. You sat up a little, the sheet sliding down to pool around your waist, exposing your chest. His eyes flicked over you before he turned his gaze out the window, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

“At least hide your tits.” he muttered, exhaling smoke as he spoke. “I don’t feel like dealing with a hard-on right now.”

“You’ll get hard just from looking at some boobs?” you asked, the teasing note in your voice not quite masking the undercurrent of confusion and hurt.

“Your boobs…they speak to me. My dick likes them very much.” he replied, his voice getting back some of the nonchalance and cockiness. His hips rocked gently as he leaned against the wall, the tension in his posture easing slightly.

“You should shave.” you said, hoping to steer the conversation into safer waters, even though a part of you knew this was just a temporary diversion.

“You want me to shave my head again?” he asked, arching an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“No. Your pubes. They’re way too long, it’s irritating.”

“I don’t feel like shaving.” he said, a note of stubbornness creeping into his tone.

“Then I’m not fucking you again till you do it. At least a trim, Alex.” you insisted. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly weighing his options. “You do it then.” he finally said, his eyes meeting yours, a challenge sparking in the depths.

“Okay.” you agreed, surprising him with the calmness of your response. The room seemed to grow quieter as the words hung in the air, the tension between you both shifting into something more manageable, though the unspoken truths from the night before still lingered, heavy and unaddressed. 

He watched you, his gaze softer now, the edge of his earlier demeanour fading. He flicked the last bit of his cigarette out the window, turning back to you with a casual grin. “Let’s get to it, then. I wanna fuck you in the shower after that.” he said, casually.

“Wait.” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You really want me to do it?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a slight nod, “Do it however you want. I think I’ve got my trimmer somewhere around here. You can make me bald or whatever, free will.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation catching you off guard, and it was a genuine, lighthearted sound that seemed to break the tension that had been hanging in the room. He laughed too, the sound of it easing some of the heaviness between you. 

Without another word, you got up from the bed, feeling the cool air on your skin, and reached for one of his shirts that was lying around. Slipping it over your head, you couldn’t resist glancing back at him, catching the way his eyes lingered on you with a familiar heat. The ease in his gaze was back, the same ease that had always drawn you to him.

“Alright.” you said, a playful challenge in your voice as you moved toward the bathroom. “Let’s see if I can do this without messing it up.”

He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, trimmer in hand, as the two of you exchanged a brief, silent glance. 

“Okay, so how do you...?” you began, but before you could finish, Alex cut you off.

“Just by the sink.” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar, cocky smile.

You glanced at the floor, envisioning the mess, and shook your head slightly. “It’ll get everywhere.” you reasoned, but Alex just shrugged, already stepping out of his shorts.

“I don’t really care.” he replied nonchalantly, his ass hitting the cold sink as he leaned back, passing you the trimmer, his arms crossing over his chest. His expression was expectant, challenging you in that subtle way that always got under your skin.

Taking a deep breath, you knelt down in front of him, the trimmer heavy in your hand. You couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, still trying to figure out the best way to go about it. Alex watched you with a growing smirk. 

“Go ahead.” he prompted, his voice low, almost coaxing.

You turned on the device, the buzzing sound filling the small bathroom. Starting at the top, you carefully trimmed the hair, deciding to leave the little trail on his tummy untouched. You’d always liked it, though you wouldn’t admit that to him. As the hair began to fall in small clumps on the floor, you focused on your task, the rhythm of the trimmer in your hand oddly calming despite the circumstances.

Once you finished with the top, you paused, hesitating for a moment as you looked at the more intimate areas. 

“You can touch my dick, you know.” Alex said, his voice breaking the silence, the teasing edge unmistakable. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” he added with a smirk, his hands now gripping the edges of the counter.

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his remark. He reached down, giving himself a slight tug to move out of your way, his fingers brushing against you in the process. You noticed the way he started to harden under the touch, his breathing getting a little heavier as he looked down at you.

You were hyper-aware of his growing arousal, the way his breath hitched slightly as you worked around his sensitive areas, but you kept your focus, determined to do a good job despite the distraction of his hand slowly moving along his dick. With a steadying breath, you continued, carefully manoeuvring around him, aware of the subtle changes in his body as you worked. His fingers occasionally brushed against your hair, a silent encouragement. 

Alex’s breathing deepened, and you could feel his eyes on you, studying your every move. He shifted slightly, his fingers tightening both on the counter’s edge and on his dick in his hand, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Careful now.” he teased. 

You glanced up at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. “Don’t worry.” you replied, keeping your tone light even as your heart thudded in your chest. “I’ve got this.”

He grinned, a lazy smile that made your stomach flutter. “I know you do.” he said, his voice a soft purr. “But it’s cute how focused you are. Like you’re giving me a fucking fade or something.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head as you finished up. The last few strands fell to the floor, and you switched off the trimmer, the sudden silence in the room amplifying the closeness between you.

“There,” you said, sitting back on your heels and looking up at him, “All done.”

He looked down at you, his expression softening for a moment before he reached out to run a hand through your hair, his fingers gentle as they traced your scalp. “Not bad.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  “Good job.” he murmured, his voice a little huskier now, as if the situation was starting to affect him more than he was letting on. 

“Yeah? You’re not going to have to do this again for a while now.” you replied, trying to keep the tone light, even as the intimacy of the moment wrapped around both of you. You stood up, brushing the stray hairs from your knees. “Told you I’d do it.”

Alex straightened, stepping away from the sink. “Yeah, you did.” he said. He reached out, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer to him until your bodies were flush against each other. “I think you missed a spot.” he said, his voice low, teasing, as his lips brushed against your ear. 

“Oh yeah? Where?” you whispered back, playing along, your hands resting on his chest. 

“Here.” he replied, and before you could respond, he captured your lips in a deep kiss, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head, holding you close. 

The kiss was electric, the kind that made your toes curl and your mind go blank, all thoughts of the trim forgotten as you melted into him. The heat between you built quickly, his hands roaming your body with a possessive hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. 

“Shower?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” 

a/n: i’m kinda falling for this version of alex now. kinda really like how it turned out…

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica 

[sgcstories]

Chapter 7: Fictional Chemistry

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

McKenzie’s pulse quickened as Snape’s gaze bore into her, a silent question hanging in the air. The room seemed to shrink around them, the walls closing in as if to witness this moment of vulnerability and tension. She felt a magnetic pull, an invisible thread drawing her closer to him, despite the warnings screaming in her mind.

Snape’s hand, trembling slightly, reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. The touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. His eyes softened, revealing a depth of emotion she had never seen before. It was as if the mask he wore had slipped, if only for a moment, allowing her a glimpse into the soul of the man behind the stern exterior.

“McKenzie,” he whispered, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a thrill through her. “There are things you don’t understand… things I can’t explain.”

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Then show me,” she replied, her voice barely more than a breath. “Show me what you can’t say.”

For a heartbeat, time stood still. Then, with a resolve that surprised even herself, McKenzie closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of secrets shared in the dark, and of a connection that defied logic and reason.

In the stillness of the room, McKenzie and Snape stood with their foreheads gently resting against each other. The silence between them was profound, filled with unspoken words and shared breaths. It was a moment of raw intimacy, where the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in their fragile bubble.

McKenzie closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Snape’s skin against hers, the steady rhythm of his breathing matching her own. The tension that had once crackled between them now softened into a tender connection, a silent understanding that transcended words.

Snape’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining in a delicate embrace. The touch was grounding, a silent promise of support and solidarity. She could feel the weight of his emotions, the struggles and secrets he carried, and in that moment, she knew she was not alone.

Time seemed to stretch, each second a heartbeat, each heartbeat a testament to the bond they were forging. McKenzie’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, but she found solace in the quiet presence of Snape. It was a silence that spoke volumes, a silence that held the promise of something deeper, something enduring.

As they stood there, foreheads touching, hearts in sync, McKenzie realized that this was just the beginning. The mysteries they sought to unravel were still ahead, but for now, in this shared silence, they had found a moment of peace.

But then, a strange thought flickered through McKenzie’s mind, breaking the spell. How could this be happening? How could she feel so deeply, so intensely, when she was just a character in a book? The realization hit her like a wave, and she pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Snape’s for answers.

“Severus,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What if… what if none of this is real? What if everyone here is just… words on a page?”

Snape’s expression softened, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Does it matter?” he asked gently. “Whether we’re real or not, the feelings we share, the moments we experience—they are real to us. And that is enough.”

McKenzie blinked, her mind racing. Could it be true? Could the emotions she felt, the connection she had with Snape, transcend the boundaries of fiction? As she looked into his eyes, she realized that it didn’t matter. In this moment, they were real to each other, and that was all that mattered.

Snape’s hand moved gently to McKenzie’s cheek, his touch soft and reverent. He caressed her skin, his fingers tracing delicate patterns that sent shivers down her spine. As he closed his eyes, he pulled her closer, their foreheads still touching, their breaths synchronized in the quiet intimacy of the moment. McKenzie felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her own. The world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them suspended in time. She closed her eyes too, letting herself be enveloped by the safety and comfort of his presence.

Snape’s hand lingered on McKenzie’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with hers, filled with a mixture of tenderness and intensity. Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between them once more.

McKenzie’s heart raced as she felt the warmth of his breath against her lips. Time seemed to stand still as Snape’s lips met hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken promises and deep, uncharted emotions. She melted into the moment, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, holding on as if anchoring herself to this newfound reality.

But despite the warmth of Snape’s kiss and the comfort of his embrace, McKenzie’s mind couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that gnawed at her. The thought that this might all be an illusion, a figment of a story, lingered like a shadow at the edge of her consciousness.

Suddenly, the moment was shattered by a deafening explosion echoing through the halls of Hogwarts. The ground beneath them trembled, and the walls seemed to vibrate with the force of the blast. Snape’s eyes snapped open, his expression instantly shifting from tenderness to alertness. He pulled away, his hand still gripping McKenzie’s as he turned towards the source of the noise. “Stay close,” he commanded, his voice firm and protective.

McKenzie’s heart pounded in her chest, the unease she had felt moments before now replaced by a surge of adrenaline. She nodded, gripping his hand tightly as they moved towards the door. The corridors were filled with the sounds of distant shouts and hurried footsteps, the air thick with tension.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Snape replied, his eyes scanning the hallway for any signs of danger. “But we need to find out. Stay behind me.”

Together, they navigated the labyrinthine passages of the castle, the echoes of the explosion still ringing in their ears. McKenzie’s mind raced with questions and fears, but she pushed them aside, focusing on the immediate need to stay safe and uncover the source of the disturbance.

As they rounded a corner, the sight that greeted them was one of chaos and confusion. Students and teachers alike were gathered, their faces etched with worry and fear. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke, and debris littered the floor.

Snape’s grip on her hand tightened, a silent promise of protection. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together, their bond unbroken by the chaos around them.

As Snape engaged in a hurried conversation with one of the teachers, his voice low and urgent, McKenzie stood slightly apart, her senses on high alert. The chaos around them seemed to blur, her focus narrowing to the immediate surroundings.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned her head, her gaze locking onto a shadowy figure peeking around the corner of a nearby corridor. The figure’s face was partially obscured, but the unmistakable glint of a frightening grin sent a chill down her spine.

The grin was wide and sinister, eyes gleaming with a malevolent light. McKenzie felt a surge of fear, her instincts screaming at her to look away, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the eerie sight. The figure seemed to relish her terror, the grin growing even wider as if feeding off her fear.

As McKenzie stood there, trying to steady her racing heart, a cold, eerie whisper slithered into her mind. The voice was chilling, filled with a sinister glee that made her blood run cold.

“McKenzie,” it hissed, the sound echoing in her thoughts. “You can’t hide from me. I see you. I know you.”

She gasped, her eyes darting around the corridor, but there was no one in sight. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog.

“Who are you?” she thought, trying to project her question back to the source of the voice. “What do you want?”

“Come find out,” it whispered, the words dripping with malice. “If you dare.”

Unbeknownst to her, her feet began to move of their own accord, leading her towards it. The sounds of the castle faded into the background, and she found herself in a dimly lit corridor she didn’t recognize. The air was colder here, the shadows deeper.

As she stepped into the darkness, an overwhelming sense of unease washed over her. The air grew colder, and the silence was oppressive, pressing down on her like a weight. She could barely see a few feet in front of her, the dim light swallowed by the encroaching shadows.

The shadows seemed to move, slithering along the walls and floor like living entities. They twisted and writhed, their shapes constantly shifting, as if they were watching her, waiting for the right moment to strike. McKenzie felt a shiver run down her spine, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, but the pull was relentless, urging her forward.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Every step felt like a struggle, her feet heavy as if wading through thick mud. The darkness seemed to close in around her, the shadows growing bolder, reaching out with tendrils that brushed against her skin, cold and clammy.

“Scarlet,” she called out, her voice trembling. “Where are you?” McKenzie felt a sudden, sharp tug at her ankles and looked down to see Scarlet, her fur bristling and her eyes wide with alarm. The cat was hissing, a low, menacing sound that sent a chill through McKenzie’s veins.

Scarlet’s eyes darted around, her body tense and ready to pounce. “Something’s here,” she hissed, her voice filled with a mix of fear and defiance. “Something dark and dangerous.”

McKenzie felt a surge of panic, her heart pounding in her chest. She could sense the presence too, a malevolent force lurking just beyond the edge of her vision. The shadows seemed to close in, their whispers growing louder, more insistent.

“Stay close to me,” McKenzie said, her voice trembling. She reached down to scoop Scarlet into her arms, the cat’s body warm and reassuring against her own.

Then, from the depths of the darkness, the figure began to manifest. At first, it was just a vague silhouette, a shadow among shadows. But slowly, it took form, its presence becoming more tangible, more menacing. The figure’s outline sharpened, revealing a tall, gaunt shape cloaked in darkness.

McKenzie felt a chill run down her spine as the figure’s face came into view. Its features were twisted and contorted, a grotesque parody of a human visage. The eyes were hollow and dark, gleaming with a malevolent light. But it was the grin that sent a wave of terror through her—a wide, sinister smile that seemed to stretch impossibly across its face, filled with sharp, jagged teeth.

The figure’s grin widened as it stepped closer, its movements slow and deliberate. McKenzie could feel the weight of its gaze, the cold malice radiating from it. Scarlet hissed again, her fur bristling, but the figure seemed unfazed, its grin growing even more grotesque.

“Welcome, McKenzie,” the figure’s voice echoed in her mind, a chilling whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

McKenzie swallowed hard, her fear threatening to overwhelm her. But she couldn’t back down now. She had to face this darkness, to uncover the truth behind the sinister presence that haunted them.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling but defiant. “What do you want?”

The figure’s grin twisted into something even more horrifying, its eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement. “All in good time,” it replied, its voice a sinister purr. “But first, let’s see if you have the courage to face your deepest fears.”

As the figure loomed closer, McKenzie felt a surge of determination. She tightened her grip on Scarlet, drawing strength from her loyal companion. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it head-on, ready to confront the darkness and uncover the secrets that awaited them.

[cartoonqueen16]

Jen 10 My DNA chapter 18

Jen pov

"AHH!!" I hit the ground and rolled into a wind turbine. "You are one sorry sight, Omni." Kevin spat as he approached me.  "Kevin...please." I groan and stand up to face him. Kevin growled, "It's payback time for turning me into this freak." I felt anger bubble up into my chest and I clenched my fist. "You aren't a freak Kevin!" I spat and glared at him, he glared back. He wasn't gonna listen, he just wanted to let anger take over.

Kevin extended his arm and fired Diamondhead crystals at me. "Voice command: shield." my shield surrounded me and I moved closer to Kevin, being protected from all his attacks. "Grr, Stop hiding behind your shield and take the beating!!" he roared in anger and charged at me. I dropped my shield materialized my crossbow, and shot Kevin with an electric energy arrow. Kevin hit the ground and groaned in pain, but was up a second later.

Kevin growled and charged at me. I materialized my jetpack on my back,  two big high-tech fans formed and I was in the sky. (Imagine Rex Salazars's hyper jet)

Kevin flew toward me and I flew away from him. "Kevin, I won't fight you!" I called, dodging one of his attacks. "I will!" I looked over my shoulder and saw Albedo aiming one of the guns I designed at Kevin. "Albedo, n-" Before anything else could happen we were all covered by a red light.

Before I knew what was happening I was flying in the dark and crashed into something. I hit the ground and had to digatize my jetpack before the weight of it crushed me. "Maybe I should scrap the jetpack and put air jets in my shoes?" I questioned. Lights suddenly came on "Presenting our newest challenger from planet Earth!" I saw I was in some kind of arena and a crowd of aliens cheering. "What is this?" I questioned then something rolled into my back.

Turning around I saw a robot with blades for hands stand. "Whoa..." I said and the robot began moving closer. I backed up waiting for the robot to strike. "AH!!" the robot raised its arms and swung at me. I jumped and landed on one of the robot's arms and it threw its arm up launching me back. I landed like a cat and looked up at the robot. I charged and jumped on the robot's back, magnetizing my gloves to it, "Voice command: Virus transfer" I said. The robot began to short-circuit as the virus was transferred into its software. I jumped off the robot as it collapsed to the ground then I called back the virus.

I breathed a breath then the wall around me began to lower. "What is the big idea!?" I turned and saw Kevin approaching me. Kevin pounced and smashed the ground, but I was able to jump back in time. "Hey, I know just as much as you right now," I said but Kevin wasn't listening. Kevin drew back to hit me but we were covered in red light again and transported to another room.

I dodged and Kevin hit the ground. "Okay, I don't like that," I said then was greeted by another robot. This robot had some kind of staff, I backed up as it moved closer and tried to dodge but it pinned me to the ground with the staff and branded something on my hoodie. I looked and saw the same thing happen to Kevin. Kevin went to attack the robot and it pressed a button on its arm and me and Kevin were both shocked.

"Kevin, are you okay?" I asked but received a growl in response. I groaned and looked around, "Where are we?" "Your new home." I turned and saw a bunch of aliens behind me and Kevin. "We were all taken from our home worlds and forced to fight for the entertainment of the galaxy." an alien explained. I heard Kevin growl, he grabbed me and pinned me to a wall, "Look what you did!" he snapped. "How is this my fault!?" I asked struggling against Kevin's Heatblast hand. Kevin squeezed me tighter, "I don't know, it just is!" he growled turning his Diamonhead arm into a sharp blade. "Let her go you freak!" Albedo suddenly jumped on Kevin's back and bashed him in the head with the butt of the gun he had.

There was a sudden beep and me and Kevin we're shocked again. Kevin released me and fell back almost crushing Albedo. "Jen, are you okay?" Albedo asked helping me stand. I nodded then some alarm went off, "Meal time." an alien said, and a table was pushed out from the wall. Purple goop was presented onto trays and everyone began eating. I began eating with the rest and Albedo did the same. "Ugh, I'm not eating this slop," Kevin said in disgust. "You should eat before Technorg, comes demanding his offering " "Who is Technorg?" Albedo asked and loud footsteps began approaching.

All the aliens quickly got up and kneeled, "He is the raining champion." an alien said. Me and Albedo shared a look then quickly kneeled with everyone else. Technology entered and picked up a tray, ate the purple goop, and crushed the trey. Technology moved down the line until Albedo's trey was thrown in his face. "Major disrespect, are you gonna take that?" I looked over my shoulder and saw Kevin with a smug look. I was about to say something but Albedo was suddenly grabbed and thrown across the table.

Technorg pounced and I quickly got between them putting a shield between me and him. I was covered in red light again and transported to another part of the ship. When I looked up I saw Albedo and Kevin as well. "What is your problem you freak!?" Albedo snapped at Kevin. "I'm stuck on some alien ship with dead-weight Omni, and a pathetic copycat like you!!" Kevin snapped back. Albedo growled and pulled his gun again and Kevin lit up his Heatblast arm. "KNOCK IT OFF!!" I held my hands up butting a barrier in front of each of them to prevent them from getting any closer.

"My, you are certainly a special one." I looked ahead and saw a figure hidden in the shadows. "I am Slix Vigma." he said then he's tired to the ship, "This is the Megacruiser, I own it and everything on it," he said. I was suddenly pinned down by another one of those robots and the object that had been branded to me was removed and put on Albedo. "What are you doing?" I asked looking from Albedo to Slix. "These two will be the perfect entertainment duo." Albedo and Kevin were shackled together. "As for you...I have other plans for you, Omni." Slix said and I was transported somewhere else.

Albedo pov

'Jen!" I dove for Jen but the shackl prevented me from getting far. "Bring her back!" I demanded but that resulted in me and Kevin getting shocked. "Nice going, Loser." "Put a sock in it Freakazoid!" we were shocked again. "Enough of your bickering, your opponent awaits you," Slix said and we were transported to an arena.

I and Kevin was in a shadow, I looked up and saw Technorg. I was about to aim my gun but Kevin started running, dragging me along behind him. "AHH!!" I bounced and rolled across the ground until Kevin stopped running. I sat up and glared at Kevin, "Aw, I'm sorry, did that hurt?" Kevin asked in a stupid mocking voice. I growled but it turned into a smirk when Technorg came charging. I grabbed the shackled and pulled it right making Kevin trip and Technorg fall on him. "Hey, you did that on purpose." Kevin hissed. I smirked "Well, duh." Kevin growled and started running, dragging me again. As Kevin ran we passed my gun and I was able to snag it.

I aimed and shot Kevin in the shoulder. "AHHH!!" Kevin was shocked again and we lay on the ground in pain. "I hate you." "I hate you more." "I hate you both the most!" Technology grabbed the shackle and began swinging me and Kevin around before letting go and sending us flying into a wall. "Ok...I have a plan." I groaned and climbed on Kevin's back. "Your powers aren't full, so you need to use them in combinations. Use XLR8, Fourarms, and Diamondhead." Kevin raised a brow, "You know this how?" he asked and I groaned in annoyance. "Just do it so we can go save Jen." I snapped and Kevin rolled his eyes but did what I said and we destroyed Technorg's robotic arm, then we knocked him down.

Slix appeared on a hologram, "Finish him." he commanded. "With pleasure." Kevin grinned and stood over Technology. "No!" I grabbed the shackle and pulled it again and Kevin glared at me. "That's it, it's go time, again." Kevin grabbed me and squeezed me tight. Once again we were shocked and Kevin dropped me.

~~~~~~~~~

"We need to go find Jen!" I yelled while Kevin dragged me by the arm. "Ugh, forget about her, you're gonna help me stay champion." I growled in anger, "Only in your dreams." I spat. Kevin growled but quickly got ready to fight. I looked and saw Technorg approaching. I was surprised when Technorg kneeled in front of me, "You have bested the best, then spared me, you are now my master." he offered me a tray of food. "Actually," Kevin took the trey "It was all my idea," he said and emptied the trey into his mouth.

I turned my attention back to Technorg. "Look, I don't wanna be your master, I just wanna get Jen and go back to earth," I said beginning to worry for Jen so much more than I already was. "That is hopeless, we have all tried, no one can get passed the guards." I grinned. These guys have never had a Galven on their team before.

~~~~~~~~~

"Freedom!" everyone ran out of the room and I headed straight for the control room. "Hey, why" "I'm not leaving without Jen," I said and kept running.

We were almost to the control room when we were transported to the arena again. "No, behave yourself!" I looked up and my eyes widened in shock. Standing on a floating platform was Jen and something was wrong, she was crouched down gripping her ha,ir, and had her eyes shut tight. "What's wrong with her?" Kevin asked, he almost sounded worried.

"I said behave!" electricity covered Jen's body, shocking her. Jen rose and opened her eyes, my eyes widened even more. Jens's eyes were now a bright red, read electric lines extended from her eyes, down her face, and branched off down her neck, her arms were the same way. "Finally, I'll need to do something about her fighting back, maybe more programming," Jen said rushing a strand of her hair aside. That wasn't Jen.

"What have you done to her!!?" I growled in anger and Jen looked at me. "Her mind and body are much better than mine, so I decided to take them." My eyes widened in shock. "It was nice to find some of the technology needed already built into her body, some in her arms, some in her brain," Slix said examining his new body.

I hang my head clench my fist tightly and mutter under my breath. "What did you say?" Slix asked *I said, GIVE HER BACK!!!" I lunged and jumped onto the platform. "What the!?" I grabbed Slix and them him off the platform then jumped down after him. Slix quickly stood up and materialized Jen's crossbow. I jumped and rolled dodging arrows. "Alright, new plan." Slix held his arm out and blue energy began to form then fired at me. I was sent flying back Slix laughed and began firing again.

"Let's see, this looks nice." I looked up and saw Slix materialize Jen's taser. "She has many uses." anger gripped me more than it already did. I lunged forward and toward my body, elbowing Slix in the stomach and knocking him down. Slix dropped the taser and I snatched it up and marched over to Slix. "I want her back!" I stabbed the Taser into the center of Slix's forehead. Jen's screams filled the arena but I didn't stop until Slix passed out and began to short-circuit. Slix went limp then Jen's body began to twitch and spasm before going slack again.

I stared down at Jen's body for a moment. Her eyes slowly opened, and they were the lovely green I remember. "Jen." I kneeled and pulled Jen into my arms hugging her tightly. "A-Albedo, I-I..." Jen was trembling and I pulled back, she was crying. "Shh~" I brushed Jen's can't aside and gently cupped her face, "It's okay," I whispered and kissed Jen. I felt Jen's body stiffen before relaxing and she kissed me back.

The kiss lasted several long minutes before we finally pulled away. Me and Jen stared at each other, I was getting lost in her eyes. "We don't have time for this!" Kevin suddenly buded in and threw me over his shoulder then cradled Jen in his arms. "We need to get to the escape pods," Technorg said but none of us knew how. "Any ideas, genius?" Kevin asked looking down at Jen. Jen smiled, "Slix was the control console for the ship, now I am." Jen's eyes and the digital lines glowed and everyone was transported to the escape pods.

"How do we open them?" Four mechanic tentacles appeared from Jen's back and she used them to open the pods. "Everyone go home," I ordered and I didn't need to do it twice. "Finally!" Kevin slung me and Jen to the ground and towered over us. "I've been waiting to-Agh!!" a first swung across Kevin's face, knocking him out. I looked up and smiled at Technorg, "There, now we're even, go home." I said and Technorg smiled.

I watched Technorg get in a pod and then leave, now it was our turn. I looked over at Jen and saw her standing over Kevin. "Jen, we need to go." I tried to pull Jen away from Kevin. "No, I need to help him," Jen said and slammed her hands on Kevin's chest. Jens's eyes and digital lines glowed again, and digital lines spread across Kevin's entire body. Kevin began to de-mutate right before my eyes and once it was done Jen collapsed beside him.

I grabbed Jen and Kevin, bringing them onto an escape pod. I launched the pod and directed it back to earth. I sat back, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief after such a stressful adventure. I looked over my shoulder at Jen and Kevin, both still passed out on the floor. I turned my attention more toward Jen, then something crossed my mind. Slix had said some of the technology needed to control Jen was already in her body, "I'll have to take Jen about that when she recovers." I said and laid beside Jen on the pod floor.

[lonespektr]

OCTOBER 14TH (day late) HORROR WATCH

Something in the dirt (2022)

This is Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead if you haven't heard of these guys strap the frack in.

I have never fully understood any one of their films without at least a second watch

... maybe synchronic

Already on tilt

OCD?

Looks like a morel mushroom but with spikes??

Do not expect an explanation

Ok well guy apparent derelict no furniture sleeping on floor daylight

Helicopter

No subs are

Oh they are okay

The two have been lead actors in their films more than once

Neighbor meet and greet

Divorcee tells him that the apt had been vacant for a decade

Told a big bloody fib about a death

Doesn't explain the vacancy like that's even creepier man

Said something else weird and drove off on a scoot scoot

It was a squirrel omg

Shot of the electricity meters

And a bunch of other things in quick sucession power lines etc then chimes

Ok interview suddenly

Meta about their films lolz

Somebody died

Guy friendship makes me seeth with envy and wrench my clothing

They are best friends now,?!!! U movin furniture??

How??? U just met??? That could be a serial killer an asshole! That's a literal stranger

I hate men

They are chatting like they have known each other for years (they do)

Fish story

They both at each time appeared wary of the other at least

sharing wifi??

That is a STRANG-ER

Behold the promise LAN

First uh tension

Kinda told him after he helped gotta kick u out

Except rolled right into compassion AA convo

Lol 😂 till he said ok cool

Lol housewarming plant dude why would u think he brought a rando plant to a new place obviously

His grandma runs a nursery

Already talking weird, cult vibes

The prism crystal piece he found on the ground just started floating and prisiming

Divorcee saw it and honestly told the new move in guy who was already trying to kick him out but graciously instead of doing the whole wait until it happens later bs as divorcee is leaving it happens again

And unlike the white men they are the bolt out of the apartment

They are literal shots of the text of what is being said randomly interspersed cut into the dialogue

Fights keep passing over head

Three birds just hit the divorcee guys door , dead

They agree that they have to document legitimate supernatural stuff and get rich/ successful

Youth shelter person comes to pick him up

Dude pretty sure that's his PO and he's court mandated

Back to interviews

New guy had stashed the birds in a cardboard box just to make sure they weren't just knocked out

One bird was gone when he went back to check

Lord of heat coming from the closet

Anti title drop??? Cute

This is very meta

Debate about titles they are both rejection sensative like prickly about critiques

He said i guess it waits for you (new guy) but the first time we saw it it was only the divorcee

This is very nope at this juncture

They are tooling up, my Internet is very slow

The chimes are Russian nesting Dolls

Address the obvious P.O.

He said he's on the sex offender registry for peeing in public

The thing is actually moving ( i should clarify it looks like the og big ass crystal ash trashs

Although it's obvious cut in half orb and prismy

They have digital and film cameras

They may have a shot

The geometry of magnetism - rando book that divorcee knows

Lol why was it written in esperanto i mean obvs why but 😂😂

Oh the weird shape that prsim makes is on the cover

Lol divorcee just asked do i sound unhinged and new guys like oh no nono psychologic breaks are totally different 😂😂😂

Lol he just yelled at the paper weight if you are a ghost do something

Now they are like??? Not a ghost

Coulda told you that boys it's very scientific

It's scientific because this is your film and you always do science shit 😂😂

The guy says he has seeing the symbol all over town now

Most of the shots were of old buildings that symbol would have been there for years

Lol new guy said u goin dan brown on me

He's like no man it's just a math thing like the fibbinocci sequence

When a rectangle expressed as a ratio

(how the fuck does one do that #dyscalculia)

It is that irrational number

Lol he said this better not be about Stonehenge 😂😂

This dude is smoking inside like a fucking 1950's film JEEBUS

the whole time there's s discordant plunk in the sound track

(They do this)

This is the third time he has crossed the threshold out of the room and it drops the new guy im googling their names cause im getting irritated

John and levi

The city scape looms large

Planes sirens

They are both a hot mess

Door knob to hot closet that never shits is shaking

Pause for the cause

(the cause being my bedtime)

Gonna switch to something with a better signal and finish that first

OMG wtf the light refractor is floating why was it in the closet?

Omg plot point i couldn't hear

Gravity?

Soil samples (documentary)

High chromium

Earthquake

Wait is the inside of the closet glowing

Now the light is communicating with them

Quartz deposit

More meta

Why did you play youselves reenactment

I love that's is just a series of conspiracy theories

I read this ted talk, i saw this reddit post

Cyotes again

Ace

Pulling random unexplainable things weaving them together

Snake skin

Just random things

Found an old ass recorder like old ass

With sacred number tape on it

Pythagoras

The rose croutons?

Dream logic

Numerology crystals

City planner 1908

Like full ideas of reference

Literally just picked up a rock at 1908 coordinates that had a strip of paper with w website in it

The guy with hx of mental illness ace is uh keeps trying to back out - John new guy

Crystal resonates with sound

There's the symphony conspiracy theory

The crystal almost fell on his head when he was asleep but did why do you sleep in that room with it

Let alone the apartment at all

Levi

Not they are full on literally every single idea of reference

Now they are talking about simulations after seeing a glitch in the stop crosswalk

Mind control cat parasites - which i just heard about

This month

The phenomenon is dried up

John wants to leave as planned

The levi guy made up a bunch of shit and broke in somewhere told john some kies starting to fabric stuff

Lol this tablet was used to design the city

Now my plant is alien in nature ,(from my own grandmas nursery)

Eat the cactus fruit

Inside the cactus fruit is morse code!!!!!!

Here they are

Lol he's been lying from the jump even about the book

Coordinates

Old ass radio on a loop

Redacted script

Very convenient

John tried to do another idea of reference but lim? Levi shut him down

About his spearfishing

Radiation?

Old ass raio

Levi in an effort to fabricate more stuff erased the original stuff

Melted the hard drive

Just when john wanted to go again

The phenomenon started back up

And the guy keeps digging into his criminal history

Even then he wants him to stay

They are fully fighting and dragging each other

Oo literally dragged his sister into it then when he broke he smiled

Like a sicko

It's a full scale read fest very intense

WHILE THE MOST PHENOMENON THAT HAD EVER HAPPENED IS HAPPENING

and they are ignoring it fighting each other

There's an earthquake and not they are drawing a truce

Levi is floating the crystal went high and cracked

John ? Was floating too?

But off the balcony???

Fin

[cardboard-guitar]

NEW FIC

Chapter 1 and 2 posted!!!

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/48539593"><strong>Getting Notions</strong></a> (2161 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardboard_Guitar"><strong>Cardboard_Guitar</strong></a><br />Chapters: 2/?<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Original%20Work">Original Work</a><br />Rating: Teen And Up Audiences<br />Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage<br />Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)<br />Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Robert Plant, Stevie Nicks, Led Zeppelin (Ensemble), Fleetwood Mac Ensemble, Roger Taylor (Queen), Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison (The Doors)<br />Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, 1970s, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Interviews, Band Break Up, Character Death, The 27 Club, British Character, rockstar - Freeform, i cant write songs, but please pretend i can, Not Beta Read, irish character, Rockumentary, Documentary, biography of original character, island records<br />Summary: <p>In 1968, 15 year old Eimear O'Rourke decided she wanted to become a rockstar. So, like any sane person, she dropped out of school and hopped on the next boat out of Rosslare. She later became one of the faces of rock and roll, with her band, Weavers of Fate.<br />Now, for the first time in over 20 years, the band has agreed to speak out about the short lived sensation, including never-before-seen diary entries from the days leading up to her untimely death.</p>

Chapter 1: Introduction

Chapter Text

We all grew up on the voice of a generation, Eimear O'Rourke, playing on the radio. She was the It-Girl of the 70's, no doubt about it. Everyone knew the story of how the Weavers of Fate were founded at an open-mic session in a grimy London bar, when then-frontman Tim Lewis walked out after an altercation, and drummer Sandie Stevens asked her to join the lineup right before they hit the stage. And the rest was history. The name of the pub has never been disclosed by the band, and there are at least five who claim to be the "Birthplace of The Weavers".

The Weavers, as they became affectionately known as, -not to be confused with the American folk quartet of the same name- quickly rose to one of the greatest rock bands in history. Their unique sound was, and still is something completely original. Gibson released a line of electric guitars fashioned after lead guitarist, Raymond Silver's modified les paul, but they still cannot compare to his hand-crafted pickups, and the unusual tone they created. Despite her youth, Eimear managed to write extraordinarily wise, profound and meaningful lyrics, laden with metaphors and double meanings, so that each song strikes home harder every time you listen to it. The vocals, sung by O'Rouke and Silver make for beautiful harmonies, and magnetic duets paired with memorable and dramatic basslines, and the haunting sound of the pair's guitars.

Their debut album, Notions, was an instant success, as Weavers of Fate had already generated a substantial following before their signing to Island Records in 1969. At just 16 years of age, O'Rouke was thrown into the world of touring, and all that comes with it.

The rumors of a relationship between herself and Silver seemed to follow the band everywhere they went. Press went as far as to sneak backstage as crew members in order to gather insider gossip on the pair. Most believe the stress was the cause of Raymond's alcoholism, which he struggled with throughout his career.

Weavers went on to release 4 more studio albums, and 6 live albums before Eimear O'Rouke's death in 1980. She was 27 years of age. Very little is known about what happened leading up to her demise, some speculate that she was murdered, others stating it was a typical case of drug abuse. In this biography, I hope to shed some light on what really happened, whilst remaining loyal to the memory of a true legend.

[silkscream]

SWEETEST KILL | PART ONE: DELIRIUM

pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

warnings: mentions of mental illness, angst, almost-smut, not mcu or comics-canon because the world is my oyster 

wc: 3.8k

summary: you meet spider-man for the first time.

a/n: feedback is appreciated!!!! i’ve read this about thirty times and i cannot any longer. this is more like a prologue if anything so i’ll post another chapter sooner than later <3

also!! all my graphics/promo insinuates the reader is asian because cindy moon is korean-american, but there are no mentions to appearance or ethnicity in the fic itself. (except height) the reader is essentially a mix of my own oc plus cindy moon’s character.

↳ series masterlist / main masterlist / taglist

↳ part two: verdict

You don’t mean to stare at the back of Peter Parker’s brown curls, because, in your defense, he does have a big head. He’s as charming as he is angel-headed, an underdog who has seemed to grow out of his graceless middle school ways. Lately, his aura has manifested into a lightning bolt that hit you square in the heart. Your senses have been attuned to him lately like he holds the other end of your red string.

For some reason, even though you’ve known Peter for all of grade school, you see him differently now. You’re hyper-aware of his presence when he walks past your locker. You feel his eyes on you in class even though you’re seated five seats away from him. You notice his disappearances during the Academic Decathlon trip to Europe. You also notice that Peter’s arms look veinier now, his eyes gleam differently, and he is most likely extremely, inexorably, superlatively in love with Michelle Jones.

You don’t know why this makes you feel angry. You think you must be delusional — the crush you had on Peter Parker in middle school faded away throughout the years. Sure, he was the first boy to hold your hand. Even though it wasn’t in a necessarily romantic context, you figured that as you grew up, your infatuation with him was purely incidental. He was your crash course in adolescent limerence, but the feelings have long dissipated, you think.

You’re terribly wrong.

Somewhere along the journey of teenage dread and banality, you find yourself attached to the boy no matter what, always feeling a magnetic wave surge between the two of you. You didn’t know why and you couldn’t do anything to control it. Was it the horror of teenage hormones that made you look at Peter in that peculiar way?

High school was an amalgamation of girlish limbs, stretch marks, panic attacks, maladaptive daydreams, palms squeezing taut flesh, academic prison, and now, countless dreams about Peter Parker. It didn’t help that you had an eidetic memory, so the mere fact of his existence would conjure memories that were equivalent to a 4k-quality supercut pervading your brain, a parasite of infatuation.

You thought the cursed genetic mutation that God (or whatever the fuck that radioactive spider was) decided to bestow upon you was bad enough to tack on to the purgatory that was puberty. Now, you had the classic bane of teenage mediocrity. A pathetic, intrusive, annoying crush on a white boy.

You don’t know why, but Peter Parker started taking over your mind like ivy on a tree ever since the first week of senior year. The two of you hadn’t shared any classes since freshman year. You weren't even sure if Peter considered you a friend.

It’s a weird, electric feeling, the way Peter makes you feel. Despite barely speaking to one another, other than casual quips during Decathlon, you feel like all of your synapses are chaotically bouncing around your nervous system when the boy is in the same room as you. When you make eye contact, it feels like an entire conversation has already happened through glances. You think that if your heart rate gets any faster during a school day, you ought to ask your psychiatrist to up your dosage of Xanax.

It’s been three years since the spider bite and you want to gratefully forget how your body’s changed since then, especially because the Blip had made it so you were caught in the void for five years. Now, you’re eighteen and you contemplate death every time you attempt to spin webs in your dim bedroom because of your tendency accidentally fuck up the ceiling paint with your sticky palms.

You haven’t told anyone about Silk. Not a soul. You are so used to being alone that you don’t dare follow through with the usual “awakened as a mutated superhuman” narrative. All you did was wake up with heightened senses that only extrapolated your anxiety disorder and what felt like a new set of slender limbs.

You didn’t have any best friends to tell when you’d gotten bitten, and you sure for hell never going to tell Betty, who at an eighth-grade game of spin-the-bottle inside Flash Thompson’s basement, decided to tell the boy about your past crush on him. The “crush”  in question was actually one you had for Flash at age nine, a time when you were stupid and small and smitten for two weeks tops before he spit gum in your hair on purpose during recess. Betty did not mention any of this. This is why, moments later, when the bottle was spun and landed on you, Flash kissed you square on the mouth, to which you punched him square in the eye. No, maybe Betty Brant was a bad option.

Betty Brant was good for some things, like being the closest thing to a best friend to you since the sixth grade despite the two of you being polar opposites. She was certainly talented at dragging you out of your dark lair and forcing you to participate in normal social activities, such as shopping, irregular yoga classes that depended on the fluctuating balance of her membership card at HAUS OF YOGI, and doing her damn best to play matchmaker (she insists that the cashier at your favorite boba shop has his eyes on you).

__

The reflection staring back at you is familiar, but tainted by frills and pastels.

“Betty, homecoming isn’t for weeks,” you mutter.

“It’s really important to be prepared! Also, look at you! I could eat you up,” she gushes, gripping your forearm tightly and smoothing a pink, manicured hand across the silk chiffon magenta skirt of the dress you’re wearing.

“Yes, because I look like a fucking cupcake.”

“A sexy cupcake,” she winks.

After combatting her berating, you don’t leave with anything from the boutique except a pair of sunglasses. Nursing a coffee in your hand, you go back and forth with Betty about possible Halloween costumes.

“Well, Ned and I might wanna go as Ash and Pikachu, but if not, we should definitely go as the Shining twins!” Betty suggests. You shrug in indifference.

“I was thinking of covering myself in fake blood and calling it a day.”

“Ooooh, hot. Very you. Do you think anyone’s gonna ask you to homecoming?”

Betty leans towards you, her syrupy-sweet smile genuine and lighting up all her features. Betty is the kind of person who makes you binge romantic comedies with her, after decorating cottage core-themed cupcakes in her kitchen with old Taylor Swift playing in the background. You’re happy that she has Ned, but the contrast of her bubbly outlook on life makes you feel like Daria.

“Probably not,” you attest, people-watching the sidewalk from across the street. You notice MJ walking out of the record shop. Locking eyes, she waves at you sheepishly. Betty turns her head.

“What about MJ?”

“What about her?”

“I dunno, I don’t discriminate. But I’m saying there is something very fruity about her.”

“Are you implying there’s also something fruity about me?”

Betty smiles, giving you a knowing look. You scoff.

“Okay, well, regardless, I’m sure she’s going with Peter Parker. Those two ogle at each other every chance they get.” You try not to convey any kind of vexation in your voice.

Betty opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by the roar of teenagers nearby. The rowdy boys look a few years younger than you, crowded around themselves like a cult-like blob of hoodies and Jansport backpacks. They move like they’re one being, slowly dispersing to reveal a red and blue figure.

Spider-Man is smack in the middle of them. His body language mirrors that of the teenage boys, though his composure and posture make him the obvious center of attention, the celebrity that these boys worship. They all take turns rotating various items for him to sign, from their ratty sneakers to the back of their portable video game consoles.

You can’t tell if you’re certain but you swear he looks right at you. You blink before confirming and he’s fast enough to dismiss his crowd of fans, swinging away on the street. You watch him wave towards you and Betty, though the people at the café around you also happen to be squealing in awe at the sighting of the masked man.

Maybe if you were naive, you would bask in the same fame that Spider-Man does, but having your powers truthfully makes you want to crawl into a hole. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you were on top of a building, crowds below you screaming your name to celebrate your honor.

You have no intention of being a superhero, but you practice acrobatics just in case. You’ve gotten good at swinging around the city in your weird suit made out of your own web fluid, which Betty would probably call avant-garde. You only swing when you can’t sleep, usually before the sun rises. Even though the city never sleeps, you swing fast enough for normal people to assume your lithe figure to be a bird. You’ve gotten so graceful at it over the years that you wonder if you would enjoy ballet.

It’s incredible what five feet and seven inches of a mutated Spider-girl can do with her body. You swing through the city with your new suit, a sewing project that you’d been working on in the late hours of the night. There have been news articles in the past and viral Reddit threads about a new female masked vigilante with similar powers to Spider-Man. Now with this suit, the speculations will come again, but with the query of a hero.

Maybe it was pompous to make your own suit at all. You don’t want to consider yourself a hero because besides halting basic robberies and subduing scummy men, you want to stay as human as possible. It makes you feel guilty, sometimes, but you justify this with Spider-Man’s existence. New York only had room for one Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Person.

Your Silk-sense floods your body immediately. Your ears perk up approximately two seconds later to the sound of a body hitting the pavement with a thump. You look down to the alleyway and see a blurry figure stumbling and limping up a closed dumpster. The stranger shoots a web toward the next building and swings through the air, fast enough for you to consider that you’re seeing a mirage. You hear a snapping sound and see a broken spider-web caught in the air, with the body flying through the air. You catch him immediately with the webs spurting from your fingertips. You adjust your mask as you examine the stranger, now cocooned into a silky chrysalis. Your eyes widen when you realize it’s Spider-Man.

“Hey, wait… you…” Spider-Man pants as he attempts to squirm out of his safety net.

“Um, are you okay?”

“You’re like… me,” the hero says plainly.

“Oh. Haha. That I am,” you reply awkwardly.

There were thoughts in the back of your mind over the years that maybe you should reach out to Spider-Man, that you should get to know him and follow his wing so that he can train you. But then you thought about the responsibilities that would come with that, and you decide that Silk was a secret best kept to yourself. You aren’t sure what to do now in the presence of New York’s favorite masked hero.

Spider-Man is able to break out of the cocoon and get to the rooftop where you are from the fire escape. He clutches his side and groans as he takes a step closer to you. The nerve-wracking afterthought of having to take care of someone else floods your mind and you curse at your selfishness. You can’t stay reserved all the time. An arduous bruise is flowering under Spider-Man’s suit, and he’s trying his best not to reveal it to you. What if you’re a villain?

“Are… are you okay to make it back… wherever you came from?” you question worriedly.

Spider-Man breathes out from his mask and peers at your face, staring at your eyes. He swears he’s seen you before, but he’s currently too sluggish from his injuries and his night of patrol to get a clear look at you, especially as you recoil into the shadows.

“Yeah, probably,” he coughs. “Who are you? I’ve… never seen you before.”

“Um… call me Silk,” you stammer. You reflexively cross your arms over your chest in cowardice.

When Spider-Man takes a step towards you, your body shakes with something that feels like a voltage of electricity. You’ve felt this sensation before. Heat permeates through your veins and you’re not sure what does it. Yes, you notice the suited man in front of you and how his physique is enough for any woman to get on her knees, but the gravity that pulls you towards him is definitely something else entirely. It’s currently knotting your stomach.

“Silk,” Spider-Man repeats after you. Hearing your name come out of his mouth makes you shiver. You aren’t sure if it’s an illusion, but the rooftop you’re both on feels like it’s tilting. The equilibrium between you two is threatening to break and you’d be relieved to just let yourself fall into the abyss.

“Hey, my apartment is nearby. Do… do you need somewhere to stay until you get better? You seem like you’re in bad shape,” you suggest shyly, unsure of what your boundaries are with this person. Just from the sound of his saccharine voice, you want to do whatever you can to comfort him.

“Are you planning on killing me by any chance?” Spidey’s eyes expand like a cartoon.

“No.”

The softness in your voice makes him give in.

__

Peter knows this is a stupid idea, but his judgment is clouded by your smell, and God, the mere existence of your body being in such a close radius to his makes his body heat up to the point of oblivion. He knows he should walk away and make it back to the apartment so that he can rest and tell Mr. Stark about your little meet-cute later. But your eyes drink him in.

He likes your room. He likes your vintage clippings of nude women from Playboy, your band posters of musicians he’s never heard of, and the dozens of pastel-colored drawings on your wall. In the dimness of your room, he thinks he could stay here forever.

Peter lies on your throw pillows, feeling silly that he’s still taking on the role of his alter ego when he really feels like he’s on an impromptu Tinder date. The glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling aren’t as bright as they were before, but it’s enough to scatter the darkness like a decoration of freckles. He browses your walls for something personal, like a photograph, but there’s nothing telling. A diminutive radio is perched on top of your dresser along with a various array of mismatched knick-knacks that bring the same kind of eclectic comfort a thrift store would give.

He tries to count as evenly as possible as he waits for you to emerge from the bathroom, but the seconds feel agonizingly slow. One spider-man, two spider-man, three.

He doesn’t know why he feels on edge, or maybe wired, or was it anxiety? No matter what, the stability of his usual level-headed self is swapped for a state of frantic curiosity.

You return and blink at him shyly.

“Are you doing okay?”

Peter nods fervently.

“Yes, thank you. Um. Are you?”

The sound of your laugh calms him down. You nod. The awkward tension between the two of you is encapsulated in one large fragile bubble that wouldn’t be hard to pop. You look at him with your big eyes, raking over his muscular body on your bed.

Peter had felt drunk the whole time he followed you home like a stray cat, but now you’re close enough for him to breathe in your scent and examine the shape of your eyes. He knows those eyes. The speculation in his mind haunts him.

Rather than facing it, the cowardly intrusions in his mind force him to ask you arbitrary questions, like how you made your suit and what had happened to make you into something like him. You’re not very good at answering these questions. It almost feels like too much to be near you because he can hear the rhythm of your beating heart so clearly. He could make a song out of it if he wanted to.

“Why’re you being so sweet to me?” Peter murmurs.

You don’t expect him to ask this. Wasn’t being a good samaritan all about helping your neighbors? Plus, he’s Spider-Man. You’re positive any girl would love to be in your shoes right now.

“You’re hurt,” you say simply.

You shift closer to him so that the two of you are thigh to thigh. To your humiliation, he hears you audibly gasp when he grazes your knee with his hand.

You’re slightly uncomfortable when he probes you about your spider bite and you spare the gory details. Instead, you retract from yourself, asking him about the Avengers and what it’s like to always be in the public’s eye.

“How come I never heard about you?” Peter lilts.

“Oh, babe, you’re probably the first to know.”

“Really?” His eyes amplify again.

“Yeah. When this… happened to me, I didn’t know who to tell. Um, you’re basically the only person who knows. And you don’t even know me,” you laugh dryly and quietly.

Quietness looms over the two of you.

“Sorry, I’m not really sure how to talk to Spider-Man.”

“Please, call me Spidey. Spider-Man is my father’s name,” Peter jokes, eyes lighting up his features (he wishes you could see) when he hears your laugh.

Twenty minutes pass (yes, he’s mentally counting) and by now he is absolutely sure he cannot resist his urges. It makes him feel like such a fucking boy. He already knows the ins and outs and the birds and the bees, thanks to painfully embarrassing lectures in the past years by Aunt May, but he feels shame in how even the sight of you makes his stomach flip over.

The tiny cut on Peter’s bottom lip makes his mouth taste more metallic than he expects. Despite feeling inebriated, he feels highly attuned to all his senses at the same time. He breathes deeply, savoring the smell of your rose-scented incense billowing a line of smoke.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice soft, almost lush.

Your eyelashes flutter rapidly like bat wings when he holds your jaw and tugs down your mask. Peter isn’t surprised by the face he sees at all. He curses under his breath.

“What?” Hurt flashes in your eyes very quickly, so you avoid eye contact with the hero.

“Nononono,” Peter pleads. “I’m sorry. You’re just– you’re really, um, pretty.”

Christ, Was he fucking thirteen?

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” You wonder if whatever superhero handbook that exists in the world offers advice on other superheroes hitting on you. Or if you were being deceived. Maybe this is a test.

He’s grateful you can’t see his face underneath this mask. He’s sure he’s flushed with eyes dilated like a goddamn teenager, and then he mentally curses again when he realizes that’s exactly what he is.

“Can… can I try something?” Spider-Man’s voice is desperate but barely audible. He’s shy all of a sudden.

“’s long as you don’t murder me, I guess,” you mumble, pliant in your tone.

“I won’t. Close your eyes.”

You submit to his requests and you can count every second that passes inside this universe as if you’re waiting to get out of school. You’re hyper-aware of Spider-Man and how his head is inching closer to you, hand perched under your jaw, and you stay still for him. He could break you like fine China if he wanted to. For some reason, you think you’d be okay with it.

The soft flesh of warm lips meets yours. You gasp slightly but reciprocate. The taste of him is electrifying enough to heat your blood immediately, arousal flooding your core to your surprise.

“Tell me… You want me… To stop,” mumbles Peter. His eyes are screwed shut under his mask. If he had a clearer head, he’d pull his mask back down to hide his pink mouth and flee your room immediately.

“Why would I?” you breathe in between kisses.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop.”

“So don’t.”

With that, Peter groans as he palms the curves of your body and pulls you closer to him. You imagine his touch like ink spilling into a glass of water, spinning and curdling into itself until the color pervades the entirety of it. Peter feels feverish with his lips on yours, a tantalizing delirium.

It surprises him, his lack of gentleness and apprehension. It surprises you that you let him snake his gloved fingers to your center as it saturates with wet heat, delighting your knotted insides as he puts just the right amount of pressure on your aching core. You’re mewling, whining for more, and clawing at Peter’s jaw and clothed clavicle.

It’s like a ballroom dance, the way you lift your arms for him so that he can undress you with roused determination, suit falling from your shoulders like feathers. His Spider-man eyes expand and it makes you want to laugh — how was this vigilante so utterly boyish?

Slowly, Peter closes the gap between you two again and now you’re straddling his lap, too drunk off his lecherous touch to think even remotely straight. It’s when he palms your breast that his breaths grow even more ragged, wolf teeth nipping at your collarbone. You hiss sharply at the contact.

Your senses are flooded with frenzied avidity, which aptly replaces the angst that’s permeated your body from the past week. There’s a release you’re craving, a cursed catharsis, and he’s not even inside you yet. Hunger makes you a modern girl, doesn’t it?

It takes everything in Peter’s power to break the trance.

He doesn’t mean to shove you or push you that forcefully, even. You’ve stumbled back towards the edge of your bed as Peter backs away slowly. You blink at him and notice how out of place he looks in your room. He pulls his mask down quickly.

You’re convinced that perhaps this is a fever dream. In your bones, you know that when you wake up the next morning, the curve of Peter’s pink mouth will be ingrained in your brain permanently. You sigh.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” Spider-Man attempts. “I didn’t want to do anything we’d regret.”

You pull your knees to your chest and shift uncomfortably. “Right.”

“Not that– not that you’d be a mistake or anything, I– um. I really fucking like the way you make me feel. Even if it’s too much,” he confides, carefully stumbling over his words. His brain is going a million miles an hour. “But this feels… dangerous.”

“What’s your name?” you ask softly. To your disappointment, he shakes his head.

“I’m really sorry. I think I should go. I’ll look for you again another time… if you’re willing,” he whispers.

An awkward beat. He doesn’t say goodbye, but you know he says it with the tilt of his head. You imagine his human eyes, how they’re probably bright and pleading at you right now. Opening your window, he shoots a web, and with a thwick, he disappears immediately.

You don’t fall asleep easily that night.

Chapter Management

____

taglist: @mellithevirgo @icoldee @namoreno​

[my-johnlockficrecs]

Hi. I love your blog. I was wondering what your favourite fic(s) are?

hi sweet anon, thank you so much 🥺💕 i'm so glad you like my blog! and omg, what a difficult question 😂 anyone who's been in any fandom for an extended period of time accrues a lengthy list of favourite fics, and i'm no different. i just know that once i start listing fics, i'll instantly start going "oh and this one, and this, and this, and thi-" for the sake of everyone's sanity, i've limited this list to 15 of my fav fics, in no particular order. if you ask me again some time later, my list would probably be different, because that's just how many excellent fics this fandom has 🤷 (and i'm also just that indecisive 😭)

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (49k, M)

John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most.

An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction (67k, E)

"If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

lean into a loved body by @simplyclockwork (60k, E)

Still reeling from Afghanistan, John Watson moves to farm country after inheriting his late grandfather’s property. There, he tries to come to terms with his new reality, the work cut out for him, and the failure of his marriage.

To top it all off, his awkward, bee-loving neighbour is kind of a madman.

A Firm Hand by Ellipsical (63k, E)

I started writing this fic in a hotel room in Japan two years ago after asking for prompts on Tumblr. This began as a one-shot for the prompt: Make me. And...I kept writing it. Hahaha, I really should know myself better by now.

I know many are turned off automatically by the Daddy kink tag, and honestly take care of yourselves and have a blessed day, if that's a hard no for you. But I will say that this fic begins as a Daddy kink fic and then transforms into something else. It's mainly an exploration of consent and identity and vulnerability and communication and agency and trust building and and and and.... I'll let the tags speak for the rest of it. This happens through sex. Lots and lots of sex. Some of the sex is kinky, but it is always switchy, switchy sex. Neither character is exclusively a top, neither one is exclusively a bottom, in fact I aim to make you question what those things mean. The Moriarty plot was very tangential to my wanting to write this story, but provides much of the urgency, so take it as you will, squinting from far away, perhaps ;)

Your comments are very important to me. If you enjoy this story, please let me know. I'm sending love and peace to you and yours <3 <3 <3 <3

Ghost Stories by @swissmissing (22k, M)

Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

In Need of Quiet Affection and Gentle Words by @kinklock (16k, E)

After John’s girlfriend (of sorts) sends him an online sex guide, John finds himself more intrigued by the guide’s author than anything his girlfriend might have had in mind.

The Printer is Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire) (40k, G)

John is a disgruntled customer who just wants his money back for a shoddy printer Harry ordered for him off of a catalogue. Sherlock is a bored customer service rep working the summer he has off from Oxford. They are both about to get more than they bargained for.

A Doctor in the House by @kitten-kin (32k, teen)

A replacement for Series 3 Episode 1 of BBC's "Sherlock", because my John would never.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (12k, M)

What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: 

Flirting.

He sank deeper into the pillows, let the mist and blur of the wine settle around him, let it shore up his nerves and dim the warning signals that flashed dully in the back of his mind. He let the rest of the disappointment about Lucy and his strange accommodations and about the weekend as a whole fade into obscurity. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there.

He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (5k, G)

"Something in Wilde’s persecution has touched a nerve in Sherlock – snapped that tenuous thread of hope holding him upright – and it feels as if he has taken to bleeding internally."

Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

The Presbury Letters by Katie (17k, unrated)

Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and John Watson battle to survive the Great War.  17,000 words. Also as mp3 or m4b audio.

notes: it's a happy ending <3

Full of Grace by Katie (19k, unrated)

Oscar Wilde's incarceration, a wedding celebration for Violet Smith, and a pair of dancing men.

Twelfth Night by Katie (6k, unrated)

A parody of Forsythian schmangst: how to explain to Holmes that he is in fact homosexual, the effects of alcohol on Watson, and things that make ineffective lubricants. Adult humour.

A Quiet Murmuration by cathedral_carver (4k, teen)

//

Just pay me back with one thousand kisses.

//

things fairytales are made of series by @watsonshoneybee (67k, 7 works)