#i am sorry they are NOT going around in lightweight cotton. and have you seen how much oil stains they do not wear velvet or silk either

[neonhellscape]

okay his outfit has really been bothering me for absolutely ages so here. bastard man.

[loridrabbles]

Ok like Mandoa’s s/o revealing she’s pregnant after they like just met or for a one night stand or something, and she’s really nervous and thinks he’s going to leave her alone or be mad but he’s ends up actually being happy and admits his feeling for her or something like that ;))

One Night | Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Slight nsfw. I leave you hanging when it's about to get xtra steamy.

     (Y/n)'s heart pounded in her chest and her hands grew cold and clammy as she fidgeted in her spot next to the campfire the Mandalorian had built for the two of them to keep warm for the night while they rested. She'd been working with him for months now, but barely knew a thing about him. Not that he was a cold person, in fact, he had been quite welcoming, but he wasn't one to talk. She knew he was a human, around 40 years old, his parents were killed and he was taken in as a foundling, and that he is never, ever allowed to remove his helmet. That's it. 

     It was evident that he had been lacking the touch of another person from a young age. He'd probably never felt the sensation of another person' under his fingertips, their breath on his skin, or their lips against his neck, felt someone's heart pound in their chest, or hear their cries in his ear. It didn't bother him. It didn't bother him. "It doesn't bother me." He thought.

     He had had enough one night. He returned to the ship after his venture out alone, (y/n) sitting in the cockpit, unsuspecting of his return so early. His breath was heavy with anger from having been bested by an enemy, something that never happened. Was it frustration that allowed him to be so distracted? (Y/n) turned to him, white cotton shirt she would have worn to bed draped loosely over her torso, the lightweight fabric contouring her breasts, her nipples gently visible through the garment. She had never been in anything less than full tactical gear around him. Embarrassed, her chest heaved. He watched behind his helmet. He stared at her clean face, unmarked by dirt and grime from the elements. He had never noticed her features before. They were...alluring.

     "You're back early." 

     "I am." He responded, blunt as ever. He watched her hands tug on the hem of her shorts at the top of her thigh, tugging them from where they had ridden up between her legs. He wanted to reach out and stop her. She didn't want to stand, feeling that it would expose more of her body to him. She stayed put, breaking the awkward silence.

     "What happened?" She asked quietly. He never went into details. "You seem upset."

     "I'm not." He assured. His chest was still heaving, but by now it was arousal. 

     "Oh." She said quiet as a mouse. "Sorry if I knew you were coming back I wouldn't be so...u-under dressed."

     "It's ok." He said, taking a step towards her. She shifted in her seat, biting the skin of her cheek upon noticing that his garb did nothing to hide his growing erection. He'd seen countless nude women before at bars and shady joints and they never did anything for him. What was it about her? Her own breathing grew heavier and she ran her fingers through her hair, avoiding having to look at him. She knew he had likely never been intimate before and understood why he was having feelings for her. She wished there was a way to convey to him that it was ok, She could feel his gaze. Hoping he would notice, she licked her lips then bit down, slowly drawing her eyes to him. She couldn't make it to where his eyes would be without breaking, but his chest did just fine. 

     "Up until now I've been so good at pushing this away." He finally spoke. His unexpected words coaxed her eyes to his visor. "I'm sorry."

     "It's ok." She said as he stepped backwards towards the door. "Um..y-you don't have to go. If you don't want to."

     "I just- are you sure?" He asked. She nodded. "I-I can take care o-of myself." She had never in all her days of knowing him heard him so nervous. She'd never heard his voice break. He needed this.

     "You don't have to." She said, finally standing, grabbing his wrists gently, coaxing him to his pilot's seat. She was bold with her next move, but his positive, well neutral, reaction to the prior gave her the confidence. She pushed his legs apart with her hand, sitting on one of his knees. His hands formed uneasy fists on the armrests as her fingers grazed along the gathering of his cape by his neck. Her hand then fell to his, guiding it to cup her breast. He was hesitant, but as her hand left his, he squeezed and kneaded her breast, just as she had hoped.

     "May I?" She asked, tugging at the snap at the wrist. He nodded ever so slightly, so quickly. She undid the button, taking the tip of his middle finger between her teeth removing the glove. As soon as his hand was free of its burden, it fell right back to her breast. She expected it to be calloused and rough from years of work, but it was soft and tender, protected by the thick leather. As she leaned into his touch, her hand pressed against his erection, now hard and prominent beneath the fabric. She heard him let out a deep labored breath, modulated by the helmet.

     "Are you sure this is ok?" He asked.

     "I'm sure." She answered. He was elated.

     "J-just for tonight..." He said, picking her up and placing her back down in his seat. He removed his other glove, followed by the rest of her clothing and as she sat by the fire, the rest of that night was a blur. Their camp was minimal, a couple of bed rolls and their back packs, Mando's various weapons and (y'n)'s pistol. As they settled in for the long night, warming up, he noticed, apart from how gorgeous she looked in the lighting, her discomfort. 

     "Well be back at the ship by tomorrow." He said, taking a guess at what was making her uncomfortable.

     "Yeah I figured as such." She said, trying to hide her nerves in her voice. A man of few words isn't any good at making conversation. "It's nice out here though, under the stars. Even though we spend most of our time up there, I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at the night sky."

     "Yeah it's nice." He paused. "Y/n), you seem uncomfortable." He said. "If I'm correct, may I ask why?"

     "Actually, there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about, but I don't know how to start."

     "There's something I may want to talk to you about too." He said. She nervously fiddled with her fingers, watching from her peripheral vision as he stood from his position on the ground across from her and moved closer, almost next to her. 

     "What is it?" He asked. 

     "You go first."

     "I asked you first." He said. He was joking, but (y/n) could tell there was seriousness behind it.

     "Well..." She bit her cheek to keep the tears irritating her eyes from falling. "I- I really screwed up. I'm so sorry I-" She failed, and the first tear fell, cold as it hit her wrist where it sat in her lap. He didn't say anything to coax her, he was patient. He noticed her trembling hands and took one into his own, giving her a reassuring squeeze removing it quickly. realizing what he'd done. She collected herself and sniffled back more tears. "I'm pregnant."

     He was silent next to her.

     "I wasn't thinking and I got ahead of myself a-and if you're mad I can leave and never come back and you won't have to worry." She rambled to fill the silence, hoping and praying he wouldn't actually leave her by herself. "A-and I don't care what you have to say about it, but I'm not going to get rid of it. Ever." 

     "Good." He said. She sniffled again and wiped her face.

     "What?" She asked, really not expecting more of a one word response from him. If he did decide to let her stick around, she imagined he would do it because he had to. Their relationship wouldn't progress, she'd go through the pregnancy alone with no support, she'd give birth alone, and she'd just be... alone.

     "I would never ask you to get rid of it." He said, moving closer. "This news is so sudden, but I'm...happy."

     "You are?" She asked. He took her hand in his again.

     "What I've been meaning to say is that I have feelings for you. Feelings I've never felt before. What happened that night between us, I've never shared that with anyone else before. In fact, it's a little taboo in my culture, but...I love you, so it doesn't matter to me."

     "This is sudden to me, too." She said, trying to shake away her tears with a laugh as she turned towards him.

     "I want us to be a family, and if you will, marry me before the baby gets here." He said. "Will you?"

     "I will." She smiled weakly. 

     "Close your eyes." He said. She obeyed and shut them, blackness like the dark sky overtaking her vision. She felt his hands on her cheeks and his warm lips against hers. She shuddered a little, not expecting the kiss, but it made her feel warm inside. His lips left hers and his hands left her face.

     "Ok." He said. She opened her eyes again, and the helmet was back in place. "I love you." He said, both her hands in his.

      "I- I don't think I can say I love you yet, but I will." She said.

     "That's ok." 

     "And if we're going to be married I want to get to know you, like really know you. I don't even know your name. I need you to talk to me. I want this marriage thing to work, but please, just talk to me."

     "I'll tell you my name, first thing when we marry." He said, caressing her cheek. His hand was gloved, but it was still comforting. "I promise. And I'll tell you everything. About my parents, my home, about how I became a Mandalorian."

     "Wait, you weren't born a Mandalorian?" She asked, excitedly, getting up on her knees. He laughed,

     "Nope."

     "Tell me." She sat back down, criss cross, her chin in her hands, waiting for story time.

     "Hey we have to save something for the wedding night." He teased, booping her nose. She scrunched up her nose and scowled playfully.

     "Fine." She sighed, before yawning. He stood again and grabbed his bedroll from across the fire and put it next to hers.

     "Someone's ready for bed." He said, leaning back against the rock at the head of his bedroll. 

     "Yeah." She yawned again, laying down with her head on his lap. She was lucky when he slept, he removed all but his chest plating. "Goodnight."

     "Goodnight." He sighed.

[savedbybangtan]

Intermittent Fasting

Summary: She changes her entire being to be perfect for Hoseok. Don’t you think she has a right to him?

2172

Warnings: fluff?, smut, drinking, drug use

It may not look like it now, but I plan on making a main character in this fic yandere. If you get triggered by possessive, jealous, or controlling themes, then please do not read. Also, those with eating disorders or triggered by them should not read. 

Part 0.5

The saccharine scent of nectarines intermingled with the smell of the ocean, or more precisely the beach. There was a hint of fresh salt and some sweet fruit greeting me when I woke up. The sun was already blinding me with my eyes closed, so I squeezed my eyelids together even tighter to block it out.

The bed was very soft and… smooth? Satin sheets enveloped my naked back and legs in a homely manner, and that was when I realised I was not home in Gwangju, like I had been all week.

With a start, I open my eyes and sit upright.

The entire room seemed dark, in décor not lighting. The sheets were certainly satin but were burgundy along with the comforters and pillowcases. The walls were a glossy black colour and the floors looked to be some smooth grey rock.

Where the fuck am I…

…and why am I half naked?

The door across the room swung open and a girl dressed in a large white t-shirt, that I realised was mine upon further scrutiny, waddled in the room with a glass of water in her hands. On me, my shirt fit quite loosely, but due to her curves, she filled it out more. If she wore makeup, I didn’t notice.

Who was she?

I am sure I’ve seen her before. Her hair reminded me of cotton candy – a halo symmetrically divided in two with colours. The left side of her hair was an inky black and the other side was sky blue. Her smile was warm and welcoming. That smile perfectly fitted her; she was adorable.

I managed to have sex with someone like her?

“Hey, sleepy head.” She smiled at me and handed me the glass of water as I attempted to throw my legs over to get up. She sat in front of my legs casually so now it would be awkward to get my feet on the ground. “I see you didn’t touch your breakfast,” she frowned and practically pouted at me. My heart stuttered. “You need to eat.”

This was when I notice the tray of eggs, bacon, waffles, orange juice, peaches, and some other food items I didn’t recognise. They were neatly arranged on a wooden tray with a curtly folded napkin and silverware.

To get the sad look from such a pretty face, I picked up the tray and dug in with a smile. “I didn’t even notice it! Thank you.”

Her eyes lit up first before she smiled.

I started with the meat chewing animatedly. By the time I finished the eggs as well, I notice that she wasn’t eating. No, weirder, she was ogling my mouth when I ate the entire time. It was strange, so I decided to start a conversation. I remember that last night I went to the club with some friends. We finally finished our first finals ever as seniors. After drinking half a beer, I got very drunk and left to get a cab. I don’t remember much else…

I really should stop drinking.

My eyes couldn’t help but to trail down to her neck and then her breasts that were poking obscenely through my shirt. The window in the back of her helped to outline her Coca-Cola bottle silhouette that she hid beneath.

It was Saturday, I was on vacation from work, and the food was actually good, so I finished the plate eagerly, ignoring the voice in my mind questioning who she was.

I must have flirted with her last night.

As soon as I walked into the club, my friend ordered me a beer. I drank half over the course of 20 minutes and tried to leave before I got too drunk, but it was too late for me to come to that resolve. I would admit I’m a lightweight, but the alcohol was more effective than I thought. I stumbled a few times. Did she help me get a cab?

I drank the orange juice in one gulp. When I rested the glass back onto the tray, she picked it up with a smile and ran just outside the door quickly. The motion made the shirt ride up and her butt – that was the cutest thing I ever saw – flashed me.

She came back a few seconds after I realised I had an erection the entire morning.

She sheepishly walked toward me wringing her hands. “A-Are you okay? Last night…” she trailed off. “I want to make sure you’re not harmed. Did you eat enough?”

“No.”

“I’ll get some more. I made plenty! Did you like everyt-“

I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her onto the bed in one motion. “I’m hungry for something else,” I said in an even tone. I glanced down to where her legs met and then back up at her, an obvious hint as to what I was referring to. “Will you feed me?”

She whimpered over a little flirtation. Was this weird or was she just shy?

She was sat on her haunches looking down at me like she was afraid I would actually bite her. To ease the tension, I dragged my hands lightly from her knees up to her thighs and across her hips slowly. “Will you?”

“Yes! Please, yes. Anything you want!” She started to whine.

Wasting no time, I laid her on her back and pressed her knees a part. Her shirt bunched around her belly, giving me a full view of her vulva. I lifted her legs up so they were pressing on her torso to get a better view inside of her.

“Don’t look!”

Her face was so red, I was afraid it would bleed from her cheeks onto her sheets. When I looked at her sex again, she was already dripping.

I never saw anything like that. She was so ready just from me looking at her.

This would be fun.

To spare her further embarrassment, I dipped my head between her legs and coated my lips, chin, then nose in her essence.

With a moan, I got to work licking stripes from her perineum to the tip of her clit, watching her every reaction to see what she preferred.

I began to suck on her clit since it seemed like she was moaning for every spot I touched. In between the moans and pants, she cried, “Hobi!”

My chest and entire mouth were wetter than usual.

“I’m sorry! I just wasn’t expecting you to actually do that! I’m sorry!” She sat up on her elbows as she recovered slowly from her orgasm. It took me a while to understand that she squirted. I used a finger to swoop up some of it that was still in her, making her shiver, and stretched the fluids between two fingers forming a string.

It was actual cum. Out of shock, the fact that she called me by my personal nickname that only close family and friends knew escaped me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean you up right now.” She was panting as she struggled to use her legs to get out of bed. I grabbed her by her ankle and pulled her down under me.

“Do you want this?” I asked her as she looked at me with blown out pupils. I stroked my cock, preparing to enter her.

“Yes!” She practically screamed and opened her legs further, although her face burned crimson still.

I entered her in one quick motion straight to the hilt. “Fuck”

“Mmmm, Oh my God, Hobi! It feels so good,” she sang.

Was she oversensitive? All I did was put it in. I know that first penetration is normally the best, but surely it wasn’t that good for her to be moaning still.

I pulled out slowly until only my head rested in her. Her moans were frantic and strangely comforting. It encouraged me.

I decided to stop torturing myself and pistoned into her. I pressed down on her knees so that she would be even more wide open. She was too tight, and it was bordering on pain. “Shit, you’re so damn tight.” I leant down and started peppering kisses and lovebites over her neck and jaw.

Her insides contracted suddenly. After a few minutes, she gripped me into a vice hold as her own orgasm washed over her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she scratched my back. It was painful but I was too focused on my own cum leaving my body to mind it.

Completely spent, I got off her and l lied on the side. “That was amazing. Short, but amazing. I want to go again.”

She stared at me wide eyed. “Really? You want to go again… with me?”

At first, I thought she incredulously couldn’t believe I was ready for another round, but now I was perplexed why such a beautiful girl was so insecure. She made it seem like it wasn’t normal for a young man to want to be inside her.

She grinned after I affirmed her question and squealed in glee. “Its good to see you’re so healthy, but you should take it easy. Let me ride you.” She was already straddling me, and I had already agreed before she could finish the sentence.

My semen dripped from her pussy lewdly as she hovered her sex over mine.

She split herself open on my cock slowly with a look of utter bliss painted across her face. “Mmmm, it feels so good!” She spoke with too much emphasis.

I didn’t care if she was exaggerating, apparently my dick liked it.

She kept talking as she bounced up and down on me, never losing her momentum. Sometimes she would rut and grind on me like some energizer bunny, then she would take slow movements, carefully sitting down until she stuffed all of me in her and coming back up just until my head was about to slip out.

It was impressive. She stayed up there lasting longer than I had ever seen any woman in this position. Normally by now, their legs would be tired, but she just kept going.

The tshirt was on, but did little to hide what was underneath, so I never asked her to take it off. Instead, I grabbed a breast and felt the weight of it in my hand. Her hardened nubs were teased after I pinched each lightly. She sighed in satisfaction. Had I learnt anything from the first round, it would be that she grew quiet and slowed all of her movements when she was about to climax.

Her body stilled suddenly. Wrinkles marred her forehead where she tried to be still just as I was feeling my own end come about.

Was she edging herself, or was she running away from the orgasm?

Either way, I put my feet flat on the bed for extra leverage to fuck her from underneath. Slightly pulling her down onto my body, I tried to aim for whatever strokes she moaned the most to.

Again, she was between keening non-stop and hanging her mouth open in a silent scream. This time, she was not able to stop since I controlled the thrusts.

The velvet sheath that pulled me up to her cervix milked me until all of my own seed was spent. I loosened the grip that I didn’t realise I had on her thighs so strongly and laid her down on the sheets next to me.

We both stared into the ceiling to regain our breaths.

“That was amazing,” I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face.

“More than I …could dream ….of,” she said barely audibly.

Her breaths slowed until she became so quiet that I looked down at her. She started sleeping so easily.

She looked so cute, I couldn’t help but to chuckle at her cherub sleeping form. Carefully, I drew the blankets over her, fluffed the pillows, and kissed her forehead.

From afar, I heard my phone ringing. If I listen closely, I can tell that it was not in this room and the tune told me that it was my job. I donned my shirt and left the room. Surprisingly, the rest of the house did not have the same medieval feel as the bedroom. It seemed like a regular house.

At the door, I found my underwear and my pants was not much further on the staircase.

The kitchen made it apparent that she did not live alone. The family portrait strewn everyone told me she had multiple siblings and her parents living here.

Just as I came to this realisation, I heard a few voices from somewhere else deep in the house. They were coming towards me.

Not wanting an altercation, I quickly found my phone (that was on a table in the foyer) and dashed out the house.

I dared not look back or use the ride share app until I was already down the street.

In my haste, I forgot to get her name, or even her number.

[fireteam-dauntless]

A Tale of Two Guardians V

Part 1 of the Destined Series. Chapter 5 : Lights Out masterlist

word count : 2.6K send me an ask or a pm to be added to the tag list!

I walked down a set of stairs that were just behind the heavy door.  The further I went down, however, I could feel the pulsing of some very intense bass.  The lights were dim and it was almost difficult to see, and a growing sense of nervousness and anxiety made me slow down.  Skinner pressed past me on the stairs, unable to contain himself.  I met him at the bottom, in front of another door, and Maverick was right behind me.  I glanced at between both of them.  The Hunter blocked the way forward, and the stocky titan blocked my way back.  

Skinner placed his hand on the handle of the door, and said in a loud voice,  “Fresh res, welcome, to a real fucking party!”

He threw open the door and we were met with heavy bass and loud music.  My stomach dropped and I tried to turn around and run, but Maverick and Skinner both grabbed my arms and pulled me inside. I tried to pull my arms away and even tried to dig my feet into the ground, but to no avail.  Both of their grips were like iron, and both of them were laughing as they dragged me over to the bar.

“Uh, uh, uh,”  Skinner tsked at me.  “This is your right of passage, right here.”

“What do you mean, my right of passage?” I shouted over the loud music. 

Maverick continued to laugh at my protests.  “Oh come on, I took a bullet to the shoulder, I think you can handle one night at the club.”

“The bartender is a normal dude who figured out how to make a brew that actually gets Guardians drunk.” Skinner said eagerly as he let go of my arm.  Maverick dragged me the rest of the way over to the bar and the Exo effortlessly picked me up from under my arms and sat me on the stool.

“I can sit, you know,” I protested, pushing them off of me.  The bartender approached and recognized the Hunter and the Titan, then glanced at me.  “Let me guess.  Newbie needs to get drunk,”  He said to Skinner.

“Yup!  Three ‘Lights Out’ shots please.” 

“You got it, friend.  Coming right up.”

A minute or so later, he came back and placed down three drinks that were an ominous looking dark purple, or black.  I picked mine up nervously and looked at the two Guardians with me, who picked up theirs.

“Down the hatch, boys,” Skinner said.  We all cheered, but only I hesitated for a moment before downing the shot in one go.  It tasted disgustingly sour, but at the same time, incredibly sweet, like cotton candy. My face twisted as I swallowed and I coughed once I finally pushed it down. It burned your throat as it went down, but once it was down it filled my entire body with a warm and pleasant tingling sensation.  I put the glass back down and wanted to get up and leave now.  The loud music and abundance of noise was starting to overwhelm my senses.  But where I was sandwiched between the two men, I wasn’t going anywhere. 

Skinner and Maverick cheered me on.  After the third round of shots, I’m pretty sure I was drunk off of my ass.  The two men with me were only buzzed.  We were talking and laughing, telling stories of our adventures.  For the first time in such a long time, I felt normal.  Alive, even.  I didn't have the weight of my grief hanging over my shoulder.  Maverick had his hand on my back 85 percent of the time to keep me from falling over, however.

At some point, Skinner walked off to go party, leaving the two of us alone.  Maverick was in the middle of telling me a story about his fireteam, I think, but I had so much trouble focusing on exactly what he was saying. 

“What about you?”  He asked, snapping me out of my trance.  “What’s your story?”

“Huh?”

He laughed at me and slammed a fist down on the counter.  “Skinner was right, this is pretty funny, watching you get that knot between your eyes when you get confused.  I’m asking you if you remember anything from your life before you were resurrected, Rookie.”

I stuck my tongue out at him for teasing me, but ended up laughing along with him.  “Well…”  I pulled the dog tags from around my neck.  I hadn’t taken them off since I was resurrected.  As much as our Ghosts told us to forget about the past, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life I led before.

“Ghost found me wearing these.  I think I was in the French Militia or military or something, but I don’t know what for.  A couple months ago, my fireteam and I went digging through some old office buildings in the French district of the EDZ.  We didn’t find jack squat.  But sometimes, I dream, and I think they’re supposed to be my memories, but they feel out of place, you know?  Like you’re walking through someone else’s shoes.  I get flashes of staring down a scope, of another woman with me, sitting for hours.  And then I see other smaller things.  Like what the French countryside looked like before the collapse.  Or the ocean.  I keep getting images of the same home.  I dunno.”

“What, you said you remember staring down a scope?”  Maverick asked, handing my broken tags back to me.

“Yeah.  I wonder if I was in the military or the militia, as a sniper maybe.  Or recon.  I dunno.  Everything is blurry.  Especially now.”  I started giggling as I pulled the tags back on, then rested my head in my hands.  My heart felt lighter.  “Oh!!”  I exclaimed and my head shot up, maybe a little too fast.  Maverick had to grab my arm to keep my from falling backwards off the chair.  “I think I had a cat too!  I keep remembering this little orange tabby sitting with me in that house!”

Maverick laughed as he steadied me in my seat.  “Okay, I’m never letting Skinner take you drinking unsupervised.  You are such a lightweight.”

I shoved his chest, though the Titan barely moved.  “Shut up, I am not!”

He just kept laughing.

I don’t know how long we were in that club, but at some point Skinner dragged me out of my seat when a small dance competition had started on the floor between Guardians.  And ho-ly, did I dance.  I had no idea that I could, or that I was even that flexible, but maybe that was because the alcohol made me bolder, and I had just finished another shot.  I kept looking back at Maverick, who stayed the most sober out of the three of us.  I kept motioning for him to join us, but he only shook his head or avoided eye contact.  Oh well, his loss.  At some point after the dancing had started, he coaxed me off of the floor and told Skinner he was going to take me home.  

“Awww, why?”  Skinner and I both whined as Maverick wrapped an arm around me. 

“Because you can’t see it, Genesis, but you can barely stand up straight.”

“Pfft, whatever,” Skinner said as he backed off.  “I’ll see you around, Maverick, you behave yourself.”

Maverick rolled his eyes, waved goodbye to his Fireteam member, and led me out of the club. 

The two of us walked through the City, which had grown quiet and hushed.  For the first time all night, it was peacefully, blissfully quiet.  It was around two in the morning.  I looked up at Maverick, who was just as quiet as usual, but there was a small smile on his face that I read in his eyes.  I couldn’t contain my drunken giggles as I clung to his arm while we walked.

“You look happy,” I said as I started to stumble. 

“And you look like a drunken mess.” He scooped me up and I squealed in surprise, then proceeded to kick my legs in opposition.  

“Put me down!” I protested.

“Hold on.”

“Huh? What for?”  Before I could even get out another question, he jumped and started strafing.  I cried out in surprise and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck.  He was jumping from wall to wall, from balcony to balcony, hoisting us up over ledges effortlessly as he climbed the buildings of the Last City.  I squeezed my eyes shut, but soon, he stopped jumping, and he put my feet on the ground.  I didn’t let him go, however, and he started to protest and pry my arms from around his neck.  

“Relax, relax,” he said as calmly as possible.  “You’re okay, you can open your eyes now, crazy.” 

Tension slowly released from my muscles as I released my hands from behind his neck, and I opened my eyes. 

We were on the top of a skyscraper, and had a view of all of the lights in the Last City.  I gasped softly and finally let him go, then covered my mouth with my hands.  “Oh, Maker,” I said aloud.  The view was amazing.  And the stars!  They lit up the sky like lights strung on a Dawning holiday tree.  I had never seen the stars so crystal clear before.  The adrenaline that had been flowing through my veins finally started to decline, and also my sobriety was returning.  I walked up to the edge of the rooftop and leaned my arms on the barriers around the roof that came up to my waist.  The air was cool and refreshing.  Below us, street lights twinkled amber like fireflies.  And above, the Traveller hovered, sleeping and quiet, outlined by stars.  This had to be one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

Maverick walked up to the spot beside me.  “I wanted to let you see this view.  At least, before you moved to your new place.  An old friend of mine, Vision… He took me up here after our first party together.”

“It’s beautiful,”  I whispered softly.  “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He smiled, and silence fell between us.  He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.  Exos were always depicted as cold and heartless, incapable of feeling emotions or empathy.  At least, that’s the way a lot of people looked at them.  They were machines.  But here we were, and I could feel the warmth from the energy that ran through his body.  The wind ruffled our clothes and pulled at the hairs that had fallen loose from my double buns, and framed my face.  I looked up at Maverick, studying the structure of his face while he looked out over the Last City.  

“I know losing your family was hard,” he said quietly.  “But there are still others who need you.  I was talking with Skinner, and he agreed.  If you are willing, we want to make you our third fireteam member.”

I stared at him in disbelief.  I will admit, I did not see this coming from him tonight.  “I’m sorry, what?”

I looked over at him, his glowing red eyes showing no sign of a joke.  He was serious.  “You’re skilled and talented.  The Vanguard can’t keep you on probation forever.  You’re going to need a team.  And… and we need to fill ours again.”

“Maverick,” I said, closing my eyes, trying to process this.  There was still some alcohol in my system, clouding my judgement.  “Can… can we maybe talk about this when I’m not still swimming in alcohol? Please?”

His brows raised,  but then he smiled and chuckled.  “Oh yeah, that’s right.  You’re still a little woozy up there, aren’t you?”  He tapped my forehead with his knuckle.  I couldn’t help but giggle in response.

“Yeah, just a wee bit.”

He shook his head at me, but smiled.  “It's all up to you, Genesis.  Take your time.”

I nodded, then silence fell between us again.  After a couple of minutes, my drunk ass decided it would be a bright idea to hoist myself up on the wall.  I lifted myself up easily enough, but when I sat down, I swayed and nearly fell backwards off of the building. 

“Hey, hey!” Maverick shouted and he moved directly in front of me, catching my arms and pulled me back forward.  “Maker, Genesis, are you fucking crazy?”

I laughed aloud and held onto his biceps for balance.  “Only a little bit. Maybe a little bit more. Who knows.”  I smiled and met his gaze, and I thought for a moment he looked worried.  But soon enough, he sighed and shook his head.

“Crazy…” He murmured softly, and he kept his hands planted firmly on my hips in case I fell again, since I was still swaying a bit. 

My heart started pounding from his closeness, and I started to breathe a tad bit heavier.  My cheeks started to flush pink. I averted my gaze from his to hide it, but he must have already noticed.  

“Hey, are you feeling okay?”  He asked quietly.  “Maybe we should head back to your apartment…”

“No!”  I said, maybe a little too quickly.  “I mean, I'm fine, it's just…” I trailed off.  I reached up and ran my fingers over his cheekbones,  and followed the structure of his face along his jaw.  I met his gaze, and his expression was filled with a mix of confusion, tranquility, and fear.  He was afraid, and honestly, I was too.  But when I was with Maverick, I felt the most normal and alive I've ever felt since my resurrection.  As if he was still hesitating, he slowly leaned his face into my hands and closed his eyes. 

“Maverick…”  I whispered softly, my thumbs running along his metal cheeks.  “Do you trust me?”  Deep in the back of my consciousness, I could hear my Ghost start yelling at me, warning me to not go where I was going, but the alcohol had dulled out her voice.

It took him a moment of contemplation and he looked a bit suspicious, but soon enough he nodded. 

“Good.”

I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck and pulled him closer, and pressed my lips against his mouthpiece. At first, his body stiffened and he didn't know what to do, so I pulled away after a few seconds. But before I could even apologize, he shook his head, as if giving in to an internal battle, placed a hand on the back of my head, and pulled me back in.  He was ready this time, and he kissed me without holding back.  There was a strange warmth coming from him, and his mouth was warm against mine.  My heart was pounding and my brain could barely keep up.  His hand on my hip wrapped around me and dragged me closer, I held on to him tighter.

When we finally separated, I met his gaze. We were both breathing heavy, we both had a desperate yet relaxed look in our eyes, and I think we were both still processing what had just occurred. My Ghost was still lecturing, going on and on about Vanguard rules and this wouldn't work out, that we were setting ourselves up for failure, but I ignored her. 

“Is yours yelling at you, too?” I said softly with a small giggle. 

“Without a doubt,” he said with a small laugh. 

Silence fell between us and I simply buried my face in his neck and shoulder, unable to stop my smile. He gently pressed his lips on my head and kissed my hair. We stayed like that until the sun started to rise on the Last City, and I had fallen asleep.

[funeral-clown]

@demibuckybarnes

it’s jdox

it’s got some smut

it’s got some banter

it’s got some daddy kink

it’s got a whole bunch of girls names

it’s got sins against the pizza gods

read it if you want

The handle of the door dug into his back through the thin cotton of his shirt, leaving JD wincing. He was more concerned with his front, however, where Dr. Cox had him pinned, snarling, hands furled into tight fists around his shirt. The position exposed a frankly embarrassing amount of belly to the cool air. At least he was wearing a shirt, unlike the growling man currently pinning him to the wall.

“Cassandra,” his mentor grit out, “What in the hell were you thinking, dropping in unannounced on my one day off this week?”

JD started to stammer out a response, only to be roughly jostled into silence.

“Let me to that one for ya there, sweetheart. ‘Oh, how I miss my stud of a resident! He must be lonely, up in his apartment with his scotch and his flat-screen tv and his premium sports cable package! I should go annoy him, thus taking away any chance of him drinking himself into the sweet oblivious void where the hospital, it’s patients, and most importantly I do not exist!’ Am I somewhere close, precious?”

JD sulked.

“I just thought you might want a buddy. You have my back in the hospital, and I have yours-”

A sharp whistle cut him off.

“For the last time, Cassiopeia, I don’t “have your back.” I do my job, which is to make sure you don’t kill all your patients! And it’s a damn exhausting effort! So forgive me for wanting a few hours to myself to drink scotch, watch hockey, and put my hand down my pants-” at this JD’s gaze shifted downwards to his sweats-”eyes up HERE sunshine- without any life or death disasters looming over me or sparkly Disney-princess eyed fan girls looming behind me! Now give me one good reason not to kick your ass.”

JD fluttered his eyelashes. Perry growled and shook him again.

“I’ll pay for pizza?”

There was a pause. His eyes narrowed, considering. After what felt like an eternity, he grunted and let him go. JD let out a small breath of relief, giddy at the chance to bond.

“Fine, but we’re getting pineapple and anchovies and I won’t hear you bitch about it.”

“Anchovies on half?”

“You’ll get anchovies on all of it and you’ll like it!”

“Fine.”

JD rolled his eyes and dialed the number as his dubiously enthusiastic companion returned to the couch.

“There’s beer in the fridge.”

“I thought you were drinking scotch?”

“Correctamundo, I am, in fact, drinking scotch. You, however, are a degenerate upon whom fine liquor is wasted. So you will be drinking beer.”

JD grinned.

“Thanks, Perry. Thoughtful of you to provide a drink, knowing I hate whiskey and all.”

The teasing lilt was not missed by his irate companion, who scoffed before crossing his arms.

“I just refuse to see good booze go to waste on the ungrateful. Now go get your pansy water. And hey! Newbie!”

JD froze halfway to the fridge and looked back.

“No more first naming me. We are not friends, we are not buddies, I am your superior, and it’s Doctor Cox, Big Dog, or, since this is my house, My Lord. Got it?”

JD nodded resolutely.

“You got it, Doctor Per-Bear.”

He cackled and ducked away from the pillow sent flying at his head with a snarl.

“First strike, Deirdre.” 

Still quietly laughing, he grabbed a beer and returned.

“So! Who’s playing?”

“Mouth shut, eyes open, princess. You’ll figure it out.”

“What, no rant about the grand history of the sport?”

“Here’s a rant for ya. If you open your mouth again before the pizza gets here, I’m going to spit in your beer like all the waitresses at the bar do.”

“Ha! Jokes on you, I drink appletinis at the bar!”

“Strike two. And now if you talk, I’m going to kick your ass and throw you out.”

JD took a sullen sip and dramatically gestured to his closed mouth.

“Ah, sweet relief. If I’d known how absolutely giddy it would make me to hear you not speak, I would have bribed the Janitor for duct tape ages ago.”

JD stuck his tongue out. He got a raised eyebrow for his troubles.

“Problem, Betsy?”

He shook his head.

“Awww, buck up there, kid. Tell ya what, if my team rallies by the next period, Daddy might just let you have a sip of his scotch like a big girl.”

JD rolled his eyes and took another drag of his beer.

“Thirsty?”

He shrugged.

“Fine, but you better enjoy it. Little girls like you can only have so many. I’ve met your brother, and I’m not letting another lightweight Dorian crash on my couch.”

JD grinned.

“What? Ohhhhh, did I allllllmost call you by your name, there, Suzy? Don’t worry, Newbie, it won’t happen again.”

JD did his best to project his internal thoughts through his eyes.

“Can’t tell if you’re pissed off or turned on. See, that’s the face Jordan makes when she’s angry, and when she’s angry, I usually get laid. But. Well. Hate to ruin your dreams of a white picket fence, but that’s just not happening, Francesca. I’m not the settle-down type.”

JD gave up on projection and simply flipped him off.

“Thatta girl.”

Perry cuffed him roughly behind the head and grinned.

They both watched silently, drinking their alcohol, until the pizza finally arrived. JD looked to Perry, who gave a small grunt and gestured to the door, eyes glued to the screen. JD paid for the food abomination and chattered lightly to the pizza delivery man, just because he could. The sense of his mentor’s growing frustration only heightened the glee he took in finally communicating with another human being. 

“Darlene! Let the nice hostage go, he has places to be tonight!”

Smiling awkwardly, the man took his tip and left.

“Just had to rub it in there, huh, Newbie?”

“I learned from the best, Big Dog.”

The small snort he got in response was accompanied by the tiniest of smiles. Progress, that was almost laughter. Perry must have already been half tipsy when he got here.

“Well come on, sweetheart, you gonna bring the pizza over here like a good little bitch, or am I gonna have to ask the service for a new french maid?”

“Shall I get you a refill too, sir?”

“That’s more like it.”

JD rolled his eyes and acquiesced. 

“Jordan must really be into dirty talk.”

Perry froze, slice halfway to his mouth.

“Come again?”

“I mean. You’re always calling people names, and getting weirdly descriptive. She must be into it, if she keeps coming back to you.”

His eyes hardened.

“Jordan, mythic bitch that she is, is into a lot of things. Namely, making me miserable. None of which is your business, considering, oh, we’ve BOTH slept with her, and I spend my every waking moment trying to forget her little experiment with lesbianism. No, you know what? We’re all friends here. Why dontcha go ahead and tell me there, princess, does scissoring actually work, or is it just in porn?”

“Just porn.”

Perry’s eyes bulged.

“You are perilously close to losing speaking privileges again.”

“You asked!”

“I have seen your penis, unfortunately, I think we could all safely assume it was a rhetorical question.”

“I only know because Elliot told me.”

“You know what? I could actually stand to hear more.”

“Sorry, Doctor Cox,” JD said smugly, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So you frenched a lesbian.”

“Well she said she wanted to be sure!”

“And she decided to go about that by kissing the most effeminate man alive.”

JD pouted.

“I’m not the most effeminate man ALIVE.”

“Darla, you’re a bad wig and a touch of mascara from being a full on drag queen on a butch day.”

“Yes, I get it, I’m a girl, eat your pizza.”

“Damn right you are,” Perry muttered, and continued to do just that. 

JD grabbed another beer for himself, but as he began to sit, a foot shot out to occupy his space. 

“What now?”

“They’re doing a piss poor job out there. Change seats with me.”

“Seriously?”

“Do you want to get kicked out?”

At this point the threat sounded half-hearted. For all his bluster, they were having a good time, easy banter tossed back and forth over pizza and booze. Perry had been planning to spend another evening alone, and while he might have fooled himself he preferred it, the half bottle of scotch warming his belly loosened his facade enough that he could admit, if only to himself, that he didn’t half mind the company. His eyes skated over to JD, settling himself into the warmth Perry had left, mouth wrapped around the neck of his beer, eyes staring off into nothing. He’d been lonely. Now he got a seat warmer and free pizza. It could be worse.

“It’s toasty over here. Like I’m being warmed in a Cox Oven.”

JD’s head tilted tellingly sideways as Perry groaned and threw another pillow at him.

“Alright, Mary Beth, that’s where I draw my line!”

A look of delighted mischief crossed his companion’s face.

“Pillow fight!”

“Wait, fuck, no, the game-”

His protests were cut off by a blunt fluffy force connecting with the side of his head and pushing him against the couch cushions. Damn it, he couldn’t take that lying down. It was on.

Game ignored, Perry launched a full scale feathery assault. Laughing, JD returned volley with his own attacks. They stood up and clashed together, pillows laying mighty blows, hockey game forgotten. JD ducked behind the couch for cover, striking out when his opponent peeked over the edge. Snarling, Perry slammed him with a displaced couch cushion. 

It was clear there was only one recourse if victory was what he hoped to achieve.

“EAGLE!” JD cried, and leaped through the air, tackling Perry over the arm of the couch and against the ajar cushions beneath. His eyes went wide as he went down, bowled over backwards into a soft and pillowy landing. Panting, shaking with laughter, JD beamed down at him.

“I win!” he crowed, and something about the moment, him perched on his chest, the unabashed joy, the rising heat from the exercise, the flushed faces and sparkling eyes, made Cox feel something. 

Not something for the first time. Feel is perhaps not the correct word. As he stared up into the joyous expression on his opponent’s face, he let himself acknowledge something he had been feeling for a while.

Fondness.

Percival Cox was fond of him.

In an instant, he felt it, recognized it, accepted it, and moved on. Fondness aside, victory in the hands of the enemy was unacceptable.

“You think so, huh, Sally Ann?” he murmured, panting himself, eyes half slits.

“Uh, yeah, I totally took your ass down.”

He scoffed, hands coming up to JD’s waist.

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not.”

JD’s breath caught as Perry’s hands squeezed.

“D. Did too.”

He smirked.

“Betcha can’t do it again.”

“Wh. What?”

Startled and off balance, it was easy enough for Perry to lean up, closer, lips nearly brushing against the curve of his cheek, and murmur, “I said. I bet. You can’t. Topple me. Again. Layla.”

JD froze.

“Um-”

Moving quickly, Perry flipped them over onto the floor, pinning him underneath. He grinned viciously.

“HA! I win. Now. Tell me who’s the greatest.”

JD grumbled, still taken off kilter.

“Newbie, don’t make me tickle you.”

“No!” JD squirmed underneath, trying to buck him off. It felt. Interesting.

“Then who’s the greatest?”

Pouting, he gave up the struggle. It was almost disappointing.

“You are.”

“And who can never be defeated?”

“You!”

“And who just kicked your girly little ass all over this living room?”

“I don’t know if I would put it like that, exactly, but-”

Perry brought his arms together to be held down with one hand, letting the other tease at the sensitive skin on his stomach. JD squealed and started squirming again.

“Fine! You did! You totally kicked my girly ass!”

“And that makes you?”

“.....Really thirsty?”

“Sally.“

JD sighed.

“Your bitch.”

“There’s my girl. Now, I’m not letting you up until you say ‘Doctor Cox, you’re the strongest, smartest, sexiest man alive, and I’m so, so lucky that I’m your bitch.’ Got that?”

“I’m not saying that!”

“Why not? It’s the truth. Not like you weren’t thinking it.”

“Can’t I just bark like a dog again?”

“MMmmmmmmnope! Not quite the level of humiliation I’m going for, sugar.”

“Fine! And then you’ll let me up?”

“Swear it on my father’s grave.”

JD grit his teeth.

“Doctor Cox.”

“Yessssssssss, Lacy?”

“You are the strongest. Smartest. S.”

“Say it.”

“Sexiest man alive.”

“God, it’s so good to hear the truth come out. Annnnnnnnd?”

JD gave a last token effort to release himself from his banded grip. Perry simply pressed down on his wrists.

“And I am so, so lucky to be your bitch. You asshole.”

Perry hummed thoughtfully.

“Gonna have to deduct points for the ad-libbing, there, Georgia, but overall a fine performance.”

“Now let me up!”

Perry grinned.

“Confession time, Samantha. I hate my father.”

“Wha-”

He was cut off by his mentor’s tongue in his mouth.

Oh.

Oh.

Well okay then.

Groaning, he opened his mouth wider to let him in deeper. He tasted like scotch and anchovies. It was the single most disgusting mixture JD could possibly think of. But his dick was still more than happy with the change of procedure. Pushing against his hands, he tried to press further into him, but even with the distraction Perry held firm.

Very firm, if what was rubbing against his thigh was any indication. Gasping, JD broke away for air, Cox’s lips chasing after, sliding across the corner of his mouth, his cheek, beneath his ear, down his throat, leaving small painful nips along the way that made JD’s skin tighten and burn.

“Is that your ego, or are you just happy to see me?” he choked out, giggling when Perry growled against his ear.

“Try stroking it and find out.”

“I w. Would love to, there, but I, uh, fuck.” Perry sucked a bruise into the base of his throat, half purring. “I can’t seem to get use of my hands.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” Perry muttered, nosing at his hairline while JD pressed kisses to his face, “Like you right where you are.”

“Perry,” JD whined, trying again to release his hands with futility, “Wanna touch you.”

A sharp bite tugged at the lobe of his ear.

“What’d I say about first names, there, sunshine?”

“But-”

He cut him off with his mouth. Perry quickly decided that this was his new favorite way of shutting him up.

“No first names for you.”

“Well, I am NOT calling you Big Dog when you make me come.”

“Is that what I’m gonna do, Beryl?”

“Come on, I’m already half way there!”

Snickering, Perry ground down hard. They both moaned harshly into each other’s skin.

“Ah, the enthusiasm of the young.”

“N-nnn. Not. Not that young. Jerk.”

“Your creative use of insults has clearly proven me wrong here.” Perry let the hand on his stomach palm JD through his jeans, the heel of his hand rubbing hard on the bulge underneath. “You’re not young. You’re a child.”

“What,” JD moaned as his hips thrust into his hand, “And you’re my Daddy or something?”

Perry froze.

JD bit his lip.

“Doctor Cox?”

He blinked.

“Doctor Cox, I’m sorry, I went too f-”

Definitely his favorite way to shut him up, he decided. Perry finally let go of his arms to tear at his pants. JD brought his hands down to help, only for a dark growl to let out until he brought them back over his head.

Snarling, he finally got them unbuttoned and unzipped, drug them down over JD’s thighs and off his body before pushing his own sweatpants down.

“That what you’re into? Huh?”

His hand wrapped firmly around JD’s dick, pulling him out of his boxers and stroking roughly.

“Don’t know why I’m surprised. Always following me around, daydreaming. This what you wanted?”

JD let out a small whimper at the rough handling.

“This it? Dumb new kid with big lost eyes. You just want Daddy to take care of you? Huh?” 

He stroked faster.

“Well? You gonna be a good girl? Tell me the truth,” he licked at his nipples, biting, “Or you’re getting punished. Can already tell you need a. Ha. A firm hand.”

JD’s teeth ground together as he tried to focus on anything but the building tension in his balls.

“Yes,” he hissed, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yessss, please, more. Daddy, please.”

“Good girl,” Perry crooned, “So good, asking so nice, making me proud of you, go ahead. Get the first one out of your system, princess. Because when I finally fuck you,” JD whined, “When I finally pound that ass like you always dreamed of, I want you to last more than five measly minutes.”

JD let out a small shriek when he came. Perry stopped to admire his handiwork, boxers and shirt now tacky with semen. His hand was a mess. He held it up, smeared it against JD’s face.

“Lick it.”

JD’s nose scrunched up but his tongue still slipped out, lapping away obediently.

“There ya go. Pretend it’s one of those suckers you’re always stealing from pediatrics. What kind of a sick fuck actually takes candy from babies?”

JD nipped at the webbing between his fingers, eyes alight with teasing.

“Oh, carry on.”

JD’s tongue swirled around his palm, between his fingers, tracing the lines on his hand and sucking it clean.

“There ya go, sweetheart. Just like that.”

He wrapped his lips around two of his fingers, suckling gently. Perry moaned at the sensation, thrust them deeper in.

“Ohhhhh, you’re giving me ideas, Kara. Look at you take it, huh?”

He slid in deeper, to the back of his throat.

“If I weren’t so hard up right now I might even take you up on that. But I have other plans.”

His fingers made a popping sound coming out of his mouth, and JD’s lips were slick with spit.

“I’m pretty good at it, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I got a lot of practice. You know, in college.”

“That the only thing you got practice in?”

JD laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, baby. One of these days, I’ll sneak you into Kelso’s office and you can just go to town. My treat. But right now? Turn over and spread ‘em. I’m gonna go grab some lube.”

JD hesitated.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s just, uh. You know. I didn’t actually expect this, coming over. I didn’t really. You know. Prepare, or anything. And we just ate pizza. With anchovies. Could we. Maybe save that for another night?”

His eyes softened.

“Well, obviously. You’re gonna be coming over a lot more often now, anyways.”

“I am?”

“You are. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Newbie,” Perry gestured to the tv, “But my team won. I think you might be good luck, so we gotta recreate this. Every time.”

JD smirked.

“This exactly?”

“Well,” Perry grinned, “The spirit of it anyway. Now. If I’m not fucking you, and you’ve already gotten off once...”

“Pretend it’s a sucker I stole from a baby?”

“There’s Daddy’s girl.”

JD beamed.

Damn it, he really did look like a Disney princess.

Perry’d have to get him a tiara.

[candidlytaron]

TARON EGERTON SONG-BASED IMAGINE #2

►DISCONNECTED (5 Seconds of Summer)

ReaderxTaron

A/N: I feel like this one is very fluffy. I wrote this like August of 2017 but did a little bit of editing, realising some of my mistakes. Warnings: None

• • •

// Life's a tangled web of cellphone calls and hashtag I don't knows And you You're so caught up In all the blinking lights and dial tones //

• • •

    Calls are all over the place. You and Taron are trying to spend the day together because Taron is barely available—busy schedule, interviews and filming schedules almost every damn day. This is the only chance you'll get to spend time with him, but unfortunately he has to attend to some calls, so you are stuck on your phone, scrolling through your repetitive social media timeline. He's been making calls since this morning, and you're starting to grow impatient. He promised he'll catch up on you but the day has been nothing but his phone pressed on his ear and putting his index finger across his lips, signaling you to stay silent during the continues calls he’s been receiving.

    Taron gets off the phone, and you feel his fingers brush against your arm, so you hastily pull away because you are already a little pissed. You feel a bit guilty, though, as he can't help that he gets a shit load of calls and texts from work since this morning.

    "Please talk to me."

    You let out a 'tsk' before facing away from him, staying on your phone and pretending that you're interested in what your screen is showing you.

    You feel his arms slowly brush against your skin, and embracing you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder and watch your thumb glide on the screen. Your news feed is raging with uninteresting statuses, posts with random quotes and incomprehensible photos. You don't read through, you just want to ignore him, inside, you just want to see how he’ll react to it, but you know that you’re going to give in anytime soon.

    Taron is irresistible, though. So you find your hand crawl up to your shoulder and onto his face, running your knuckles gently up his cheek. He lets go of his grip and hold your hand, but you still want to carry on the act. "Taron, please,” you say, trying to hint out that you’re a bit pissed.

    "Babe, come on, this is the only time we get to spend with each other."

    You hastily click your phone off and finally face him. He smiles at you but you shot him a furious expression, still, you don’t say anything.

    He holds up his phone, showing the screen to you. "It's all over, I promise," he says as he holds the off button and make you watch as he completely shuts down his phone. "That's the last call. Now..." he leans in to give you a peck on the cheek. "Now, for us."

     You didn’t really expect him to do such thing, so you drop the act and give him a playful shove. “Don’t do that! Those calls might be important. I’m just playing.”

     “So am I, but I’m serious. That’s the last call for the day. Everything regarding boring work stuff are all cleared up.”

• • •

// I admit I'm a bit of a victim in the worldwide system too But I've found my sweet escape when I'm alone with you Tune out the static sound of the city that never sleeps Here in the moment on the dark side of the screen //

• • •

    "You promise that was the very last call today?" You say, your voice soft, making his heart flutter. "You promise?"

    He nods, smiling to himself. He leans once again to trail kisses on your neck, down, but you gently push him off, shaking your head and he laughs. "What?"

    You take the large glass of wine that rests on the coffee table and take a sip. "We'll catch up first, come on, man," you giggle. He gives you a playful frown before grabbing his glass and taking a swig.

    "Fine," he says. "The never ending calls are from my manager. She wants me to try out for a lot of roles. On Wednesday, I'll be reviewing those roles and see if I want to audition for the parts. Surprisingly, there are a lot of opportunities laid out for me."

    "Does she at least gave you a background of those characters you might be playing?"

    He heaves a sigh. "Well, no. That's why I'll look on it at Wednesday. I'll be on a flight for, I think, more than eighteen hours tomorrow, I kind of don't want to think about it because it stresses me out. With that being said, let's move on to you; what have you been up to whilst I was away?"

    You groan and he laughs. It's like he already has an idea about what you're about to tell him because nearly each and every one of your Facetime chats, you endlessly talk about it. "I'm still stressed. There are a lot of papers that I've still yet to finish, but I've already made progress. Also there's a new assignment and it's a fucking baby thesis. I've seen posts on the internet online about how college students drink so much coffee and get less sleep and their deteriorating mental health. I thought they were just exaggerating the whole thing, but it's all true. But thank goodness you're here. Now I've got time to relax." It doesn't matter if it's summer. You still had to take up courses to catch up because you've taken a leave of absence to attend to your financial state, but gladly it was all settled.

    You've only been talking for three minutes, but you already feel comfort because he's around. It's like for the first time in months you're finally relieved of your stress, though you worry about it coming back when he leaves for another country tomorrow for a press conference on his new movie. You also worry that once again you'll be missing him because he can't stay longer. It's unpredictable when he'll take a break especially when countless opportunities had been banging on his door.

    "Hey, I'm sorry," he says, holding both your hands in the holes of your jumper.

    You shake your head, confused. "What for?"

    "Because this should have been our time together, but I had to attend to a lot of stuff and I've been stuck on my phone nearly half of the day. I hate disappointing you."

    You swallow, pushing your pride down to admit that you also messed up by being internally pissed at him for something that’s beyond his control. "It's all right. It's not your fault. I'm sorry too."

    Taron smiles. He shares the same relaxed state as you do because this is the only time where he feels lightweight. Like a sweet escape. The reason why he treasures each and every time that he gets to spend with you.

• • •

// Hands around my waist You're counting up the hills across the sheets And I'm a falling star A glimmer lighting up these cotton streets //

• • •

    You're laid down the bed with Taron, and you've got your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest as he has his hands placed around yours, rubbing your back.

    "So babe," you say, starting up a conversation after you both have caught your breaths. "What do you think of going out for an adventure on your next break? Maybe out of the country? I've already saved up for that plan, by the way, so wherever you want to go." You chuckle and he does too. It's been a while since you heard him laugh, so it's music to your ears like it was the very first time you realised that you were already falling slow for him.

    You reminisce the time where he admitted to you that he liked you, and that he wanted to take you out on a date. You find that you're still getting the same feelings whenever you see him, and it never gets old. It's a beautiful feeling.

    "Sure. But you know, I'm already contented with you being here with me in bed. This is already everything to me."

    You can't help but blush a little. Although he's always been this sweet to you since the very beginning, it's also something you'll never get used to—his sweet talks.

    You playfully slap his arm. "Taron, you're so corny sometimes," you joke, but even he knows that you love it when he does that.

    He flips you over, so now he's on top of you, using his palms as a leverage as it's pressed against the mattress. All of a sudden, you feel his hand on you waist, and tries to tickle you, but you got a hold of his wrist and you glare at him.

    "I hate you so much right now," you say, but he just laughs. God, that laugh.

    He sits up and look at you. You let go of his wrist and realise that it's a bad idea since he tickles you again. He knows all the places to trigger her to laugh, and it's all very effective. Especially on your neck.

    "Taron, stop!" You squeal, and he's smiling from ear to ear. "Why would you do that?"

    He giggles. "Because you're adorable."

• • •

// turn off the radio Those late night tv shows Hang up the telephone and just be here with me //

• • •

    Your moment together has been interrupted with a ringtone blaring, Taron raises an eyebrow and look at the nightstand just beside the bed. He quickly realises that he turned his phone off about an hour ago, so he shifts his gaze back at you. "That's yours."

    You reach for your phone and see that your work colleague has already texted you thirty minutes ago, and is now calling you because you haven't responded to it yet. You slide your finger to answer and place your phone on your ear. "Yeah?" You answer, a bit against your will.

    "Hey, I need you to cover my shift today. You have to go, right now."

    You eye at Taron, who's been looking very eager for you to end the call soon.

    "I can't," you lie. "I actually have a high fever. I've been like this since yesterday and I think I might go to the doctors perhaps later when my boyfriend arrives."

    "Oh...I'm sorry to hear that," your colleague says. "I'll find somebody else, then. Get well soon!" Then she hangs up.

    You look at Taron, wide-eyed and he reciprocates your shocked expression. "Oh my god, did you really lie to get out of work?"

    "To be with you? Yes, I did."

    He lets himself drop sideways and use his elbow to as a support as his palm hold his head up. "Babe, that's work. You didn't have to do that."

    Your hand catches his nape and you draw him closer to you to give him a kiss. "I wanted to do that. This day is for us."

    "But you'll get in trouble, wouldn't you?"

    You shake your head. "I'll deal with that later. For now, it's all about us, babe. I've missed you too much and I can't lose today to some dumb job I barely even enjoy." And you mean it. There are too many times that you've been yelled at by your boss and you don't understand. You are actually planning to quit, but you require yourself that you must find a job that would substitute it. You are aiming for something more fun—perhaps a barista on a coffee shop downtown, as your friend suggested earlier this month. You're willing to give it a shot, you've already prepared your résumé and your resignation letter as icons on your desktop lest you forget which folder you placed it in.

    "Don't worry, love. You're on your way to achieving your goals, just hang tight." He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. "Just remember, babe, I'll always be here for you."

    Your fingers interlock with each other, and you tilt your head. "Do you promise that?"

    "Of course."

• • •

// I like the summer rain I like the sounds you make We put the world away We get so disconnected

You are my getaway You are my favorite place We put the world away Yeah, we're so disconnected //

• • •

    The whole world is shut down whilst you two are together, sharing a laugh and exchanging stories about what you and he missed about each other whilst Taron was away. And just talking to each other. It brings so much relief. The ambience between you two is peaceful, it's filed under your halcyon days. It has been a while since both of you were ever this happy, because most of the days you guys think about each other and you two get lured into loneliness realising how much you've missed one another, and you hated the feeling so much, you just wish you could do something about him being gone.

    Nothing but the sounds of authenticity fills the room, as you talk and place the plates on the glass table and he awaits for the meal that you prepared for him. He has always been this excited whenever you cook for him. So you decided to cook him his favorite, which is also your forte, with a little twist on it and planting a familiar taste in his tongue for future recognition and originality.

    The rain begins to pour down, and you hear the loud thud of raindrops on the tiled balcony floor and the heated ground. You couldn't believe that a summer rain actually happened so you swipe the curtains sideways to look at the outside, and it is indeed raining. You turn to Taron, smiling ever so brightly and it brings joy in his heart too.

    "It's raining!" You exclaim, as if he doesn't see or hear it yet.

    "I know, love,” he shoots a smile back.

• • •

    You know that the rain is temporary, but it almost seems like you want it to last forever. You lie on the couch and he's seated. Your head is on a pillow on his lap and you guys just talk until you feel yourself slowly falling asleep because he's singing you a song. And for this day, the outside world is just shut out.

[luninosity]

So @brendaonao3 requested, as a birthday present, and I quote, “...I’ve been on a total suit kink lately, so how about executive businessman Sebastian and tailor Chris?”

So this is what happened. Happy birthday, my dear! <3

##

Chris is idly sketching—a round of breathing space between appointments, a golden mid-morning glimpse of possibility in fabric and buttons, the drape of a coat, tiny pinstripes in pencil-grey—when the shop bell jingles. He lifts his head, surprised. Next client? Already? So soon? He knows he loses time when planning new lines, but—

 The morning floods with light, sunbeams through leather and wool and coats on a rack and trouser-legs. The door opens, haloing the person who steps in.

 Chris puts his sketchpad down, exceedingly carefully. Stands up.

 Consequently walks right into the counter. Giant Boston-kid cartoon character on the loose. Wonderful.

 But Sebastian Stan’s in his shop. Sebastian Stan, with stylishly fluffy dark hair and long legs and an interest in fashion and, oh yeah, massive amounts of money, money he’s built up from investments in everything from toymaking businesses to shiny space-age technology, waves upon waves of the future—

 Sebastian Stan’s in Chris’s tailor shop. Chris Evans designs men’s suits, and he’s not bad at it, in fact he’s quite good, a passion for art and an eye for lines and detail and individuality, wanting every guy to feel comfortable and confident, but—

 But. Sebastian Stan. In his shop.

 And looking around somewhat quizzically, not having noticed Chris, who is hidden behind racks of lightweight spring fabrics, experiments of delicate color and pattern, in the back.

 Chris dives out from behind his traitorous desk, which has only mildly bruised his thighs, and thrusts out a hand. “Hi I’m Chris you’re Sebastian Stan hey hi—” And then he misses the desk. Wants to curl up behind it. Sebastian Stan knows his own name.

 Sebastian laughs. It’s a beautiful laugh: warm and sort of fuzzy and soft, a velvet-brown kind of laugh, ruffled plush weave not directed at Chris but along with him, turning the moment into a shared joke between them. “I’m Sebastian. You’re Chris Evans. You come highly recommended, and I’m sorry I’ve not been here sooner.”

 “Oh that’s okay,” says Chris’s mouth, taking over while his brain runs in circles shrieking, “you’ve been busy saving the world, funding missions to Mars, that kinda thing…”

 “We’ll need to be properly dressed on Mars.” Sebastian’s eyes dance. They’re the color of opals in rain, of water-lilies, of Impressionist mist-paintings; Chris wants to find a tie, cufflinks, colors to bring out different hues of grey and blue and aquamarine. Sebastian’s dressed more or less casually today, jeans and a navy blue simple t-shirt and the season’s trendy cold-weather jacket, this one in a camo pattern. Chris has seen photos of him at fashion shows, in purple suits, in green suits, in patterned suits, in pure sinful black. Sebastian’s unafraid of exploration.

 Chris manages, remembering to exhale and not daydream too much, “We can totally design you a matching helmet and spacesuit…”

 “You mean you can.” Sebastian smiles. It’s also a beautiful smile. Wide and enchanting, like he’s carrying around sunshine in his pocket and letting it out in each shift of expression, each beam at the person he’s talking to. “I know you do the design work, and your brother runs the storefront. So…actually, what would the latest design trends on Mars be? Not red. Too much red. Not that I don’t like red. I do. You designed that fantastic workout line with the red shirt. Red is great.”

 Sebastian Stan evidently has the same issue Chris does, as far as figuring out when talking should stop. Chris’s heart finds this unutterably endearing.

 “I like red,” he says, because Sebastian Stan is blushing and this fact has reduced his vaunted artistic and communication prowess to words of one syllable. “I. Um. Sort of. Sunset colors. Mars. Pale gold. Orange. Um. Am I hired? Oh god that was a joke I’m not asking you to hire me to design your company’s Mars mission logo or whatever. Oh fuck.”

 “You are now,” Sebastian says, very seriously, though his eyes’re twinkling. “Send me a sketch. Patches. Off-duty shirts. That kind of thing. Actually right now I need a tailor? Sort of—it’s kind of an emergency and I know it’s totally beneath you, you shouldn’t have to deal with—it’s just taking in a—”

 “No it’s fine show me I can help what do you need?” Breathing. Right. Yeah. Good idea.

 “Here.” Sebastian’s holding up a suit-jacket. In a bag. Has he had that the whole time? Chris can’t recall. “I’ve lost weight—less bulk, I kind of overdid it for that celebrity fitness challenge, I like being in shape but I never meant to add that much—but, um, you don’t need the whole story, anyway, there’s sort of a last-minute dinner thing tonight that I got invited to when they realized I was in town, and I don’t know anyone local, and I accidentally brought this one in the suitcase instead of my other jacket and—”

 “You can’t wear it like that.” Even from a quick glance he can see the waist won’t work. “Come on, I can fix it.”

 Sebastian trails him to the back and the row of mirrors and the loops of measuring tape and stray scissors and pins. “Sorry again.”

 “No,” Chris says, looking up, pins in one hand, Sebastian’s jacket in the other. Their eyes meet for a second; an electric current runs through him, powerful and deep. He catches breath. “I like the hands-on part. Getting involved. Can you put on a dress shirt, so I can check the—”

 Sebastian obligingly strips off his current coat and the shirt underneath. Chris forgets every word ever. That’s a lot of mirrors. Reflecting a lot of shirtless Sebastian Stan.

 Sebastian blushes more. Grabs a shirt off the closest rack without looking. “Sorry, I thought you said—will this work?”

 Chris narrows eyes. Sebastian had felt that electricity too. The stripping-down had been teasing, flirtatious; he’s fairly certain he’s not wrong. The sudden bashfulness is real too: Sebastian seems not quite sure what to do with genuinely returned interest. “No,” he says, testing. “Wrong style.”

 Sebastian pauses. Considers this response. “Can you…show me the correct style? I wouldn’t want to get it wrong. Might make your…measurements…harder.”

 Chris stands there with pins in hand, grinning like a happy meatball, the kind his nephews decorate with ketchup faces, pretty sure this is the best day of his whole damn life. “I can totally do that. Might need to, um, try a few things on you. Just to see what works best. Which combinations.”

 “I’m open to a lot of combinations.” Sebastian’s eyelashes are long. They’re traced by overhead light, in the back of the Evans Brothers custom men’s tailoring shop. The air tastes of coffee and silk and cotton and imported laces and leathers, and Sebastian Stan’s smiling. “Hands-on service? If I end up with a full new suit, will you want to…check an inseam? Would it help if I took off the jeans?”

 “Oh fuck,” Chris says involuntarily, and flails for self-control. “Yeah. Yeah, it, uh, might. Decent measurements. And all. You’ve got, um, great legs.”

 Sebastian’s lips twitch.

 “Sorry! I meant—you do, anyway, but I was—thinking like a—in terms of suits, you have—I just thought for a sec about—”

 “You thought like my new tailor,” Sebastian says, glowing like the sunshine, like a kitten-ball of fluffy hair and great legs and playful delight that’d astonishingly tumbled right into Chris’s shop during his break, “like my new favorite designer, and—and like my plus-one? Tonight? For the dinner thing? I can bring someone? I mean if you’re free, I shouldn’t assume—”

 Sebastian Stan wants to go out with him. In public. Wearing Chris’s designer suits. Not just shirtless flirtation in the back of a tailor shop. Not only a one-morning stand with curious ties and jeans on the floor and coruscating memories. Not only—

 Possibilities pile up so fast they trip over themselves in his mind, on his tongue. Sebastian’s waiting, magical eyes growing a shade dimmer, disappointed and accepting that disappointment—

 “No!” Chris blurts out, which doesn’t help. “No, I mean yeah, yes, I’m—I would—yes, I’m free, I’m so free, I want to, I can—” He waves a hand. “I’ll find something to wear.”

 And Sebastian, following the direction of his hand—the shop, the suits, the burgeoning options—laughs.

 “So,” Chris says, breathless, giddy, hand still full of pins.

 “So,” Sebastian says right back, and bats those ridiculous lovely mischievous eyelashes at him, “for right now, then…would you like me to take off my pants, I think you mentioned exploring new combinations?”